Inheritance (46 page)

“I know he is small, sir, but Migam is stronger than he looks. He will carry the three pots without falling behind.” He turned to Lynan. “This noble gentleman is purchasing several of our wares, but he needs three samples to show other Chett buyers who are staying with him while the caravan is here. You will carry them to his home for him.”

Lynan nodded curtly. His stomach was doing somersaults. “Which pots, sir?” he asked the Chett, trying to keep his voice even.

The Chett did not bother speaking to Lynan but merely pointed to the three he wanted. Lynan groaned inside. They
were
big. He put them one in the other and lifted the lot up to his left shoulder like he had seen the other servants do. The Chett walked off and Lynan followed. They crossed the camp and were soon among tall spray trees, their trunks sectioned in rings; beautiful lion flowers grew from them, nodding in the evening breeze. They reached a dirt track and started passing homes and shops still open for business. The smell of food was everywhere, reminding Lynan that he was hungry again.

“Do not turn around, but we are being followed,” the Chett said casually. “Five men wearing cloaks, but I can see leather armor underneath.”

Lynan’s heart started racing. “Sir, I think they mean me harm.”

“Probably,” the Chett said, but seemed unconcerned by the prospect. “I would prefer any confrontation not to occur in such a public space.” They passed an outdoor tavern and turned left down a narrow alley crowded on both sides by buildings.

“But this is a dead end!” Lynan cried.

“Walk ahead of me and put down your pots,” the Chett said calmly. As Lynan passed him, he turned on his heel and drew a long knife that had been hidden beneath his poncho. None too gently, Lynan rested the pots against a wall and stood behind the Chett. Five men turned into the alley, shadows against the setting sun. They stopped when they saw the armed man facing them. One of them, the biggest, stepped forward.

“We are not after you,” he said to the Chett. “We want the lad.”

“You can take the pottery, but I am responsible for the boy until I return him to his master.”

The mercenary spread his arms in a wide shrug, simultaneously showing the long cavalry sword hanging from his belt. “We wish him no harm. My captain has business with him.” He reached for a pouch on his belt and shook it. Coins jingled. “We will pay you to leave him in our care. You could tell his master he ran away. No one will be the wiser.”

The Chett considered the offer for a moment. Lynan readied himself to pounce. If he could take the Chett’s knife, he might be able to force a way through the soldiers before they had time to react. Then, to his surprise, the Chett shook his head.

“No, I think not.”

The mercenary sighed and waved for his fellows to join him. The narrow alley forced them into pairs. As one they threw their cloaks over their shoulders and drew their swords. “I am sorry to hear you say that,” the big one said, and he advanced with his weapon held out in front of him. The Chett suddenly leaped forward in a move that surprised Lynan as much as the mercenaries. His knife flicked once, twice, and he sprang back again. The leader fell, hitting the ground face down with a satisfying whack. Blood seeped from underneath his body. The other mercenaries hesitated and threw each other nervous glances.

“I can dispose of four of you in this confined space without much difficulty,” the Chett said, his tone almost bored.

“He’s right,” one of the mercenaries said. “Three of us can wait outside the alley while the other gets help.”

There were mumbles of agreement and they started to retreat. Because they kept their gaze on the Chett and Lynan, they never saw the two figures appear in the mouth of the alley behind them, one huge and the other somehow malformed. They heard the snick of steel sliding against scabbard, but before they could turn, three of them were savagely cut down. The fourth yelped, twisted to face the Chett, then desperately twisted again to meet the threat behind him. A giant shadow loomed over him. For a split second, light sparked off a sword swung high in the air before it was brought down so hard it split the mercenary’s head in two. Blood fountained into the air and what had been a face slapped into the dirt. Amazingly, what was left of the mercenary remained standing, his body teetering, the blade that had drunk his life lodged in bone and tendon. The giant twisted the sword and pulled it away. The dead man fell back against a wall and crumpled to the ground. His legs and arms twitched obscenely and then were still.

Another, slighter figure appeared at the end of the alley. “Lynan?”

Lynan took a hesitant step forward. He recognized the voice, and the shapes of the two swordsmen, but dared not believe it.

“Grief, your Highness, you’ve led us on a long run,” the giant said.

“Do you know these people?” the Chett asked.

In answer, Lynan ran forward. He jumped onto the giant, his arms wrapping around the broad shoulders, his hands slapping the back. “Oh, God, Kumul! Kumul!” Tears stung his eyes but he did not care.

The giant hugged Lynan in turn and lifted him off the ground. “I thought we had lost you forever, lad,” he croaked.

Ager and Jenrosa came up to the pair and added their weight to the huddle. They started springing up and down like children, back-slapping and hugging.

The Chett looked on with an amused smile. “Well, that answers my question.” He cleaned and sheathed his knife and waited patiently until the celebration ended. When the four friends finally parted from each other, he said: “Migam. Lynan. Whatever your name is. You still have three pots to deliver.”

Lynan wiped his cheeks and nodded. “Yes, of course.” He looked up in sudden remorse. “I haven’t thanked you for defending me! I’m sorry, sir—”

The Chett waved aside his apology. “I am grateful for the opportunity of sticking one of Rendle’s mercenaries. Besides, Gudon would never have forgiven me if I let any harm come to you.”

“Rendle!” Kumul exclaimed in surprise. “He’s the bastard behind all of this?”

The Chett regarded Kumul with something like respect. “Indeed. I recognized him as soon as he arrived with his company.”

“Was Jes Prado with him?”

It was the Chett’s turn to look surprised. “Prado is riding with him? All the gods of earth!”

“You know Gudon?” Lynan asked.

“He’s waiting for you at my house.”

“So you are Kayakun,” Lynan said with something like relief.

The Chett bowed deeply. “Your Majesty.”

“Who is Gudon, Lynan?” Kumul asked, frowning.

Lynan laughed. “I am sorry. This must be confusing for you.”

“To say the least.”

“Gudon was the pilot of the barge Prado stole. It was he who saved me from the man, and suffered great harm because of it. And Kayakun is Gudon’s contact here at the sooq.”

“Contact?” Kumul looked puzzled. “How does a barge pilot have a contact in the Strangers’ Sooq?”

“Gudon is a Chett as well.”

“Ah,” Kumul said. He still looked puzzled but asked no more questions.

Suddenly, Jenrosa gasped and reached out to touch the scar on Lynan’s jaw. “Lynan, what happened to you?”

“A present from Jes Prado,” he said.

“I’ll fillet the bastard,” Kumul said lowly.

“Come,” Kayakun said. “We must leave here. I will arrange for some of my people to clean up the alley. Captain Rendle will never know what happened to his men.”

Lynan picked up the pots. Kumul offered to take them, but Lynan refused. “It takes training to do this job properly,” he said, smiling.

Kayakun stopped at the mouth of the alley to make sure no one was keeping an eye out for them, then led the way onto the street. They had to go only a short distance before they reached one of the larger houses in the town. Instead of going through the front entrance, Kayakun took them to the back door, a solid piece of spray tree crisscrossed with iron bars. They entered a large kitchen. An iron stove along one wall warmed the room, and a long wooden table took up most of the space. Bustling servants came into the room. One took the pots from Lynan, another gathered their coats and cloaks, a third took Lynan’s tunic with Gatheras’s insignia and gave him a Chett shirt. Then Gudon appeared. He showed surprise at the unexpected crowd but quickly embraced Lynan.

“Truth, little master, did I not say you would be all right?”

“Truth,” Lynan admitted, then introduced Gudon to his companions.

“We have to thank you for looking after our friend the last few days,” Kumul said.

“It was my duty,” Gudon said simply.

For a moment the two men carefully regarded each other.

Kayakun invited them all to sit down. Servants brought clay mugs of spiced wine. Kayakun instructed them to take care of the bodies of the mercenaries in the alley. They left promptly.

“Bodies?” Gudon asked.

Kayakun quickly explained how they were followed by five mercenaries, their short conversation and the sudden appearance of Lynan’s friends.

“We were sitting in the tavern wondering how to make contact with Lynan,” Kumul explained, “when he walked by with Kayakun. Then we saw the mercenaries following them.”

Kayakun described the brief battle, taking obvious delight in the telling.

“That will leave Captain Rendle a neat puzzle,” Gudon remarked.

“So what happens next?” Kumul asked. He had vague notions about escaping at night from the sooq and heading west into the Oceans of Grass until they encountered a tribe with which they could find refuge. He hoped Lynan’s new friends could give them directions or advice about where to go.

“There is little we can do while the mercenaries are camped outside the sooq,” Gudon admitted. “But they cannot wait here forever. They must know that word of their arrival is already spreading to the tribes roaming nearby, and that a Chett war party will arrive to kill them. We remember Captain Rendle and what he and others like him did to our people before the Slave War.”

“How long before such a war party arrives?”

“We cannot be sure,” Gudon said hesitantly.

“We cannot stay here,” Kumul said. “Even if Rendle leaves, he will leave agents behind, or inform those who wish Lynan harm. He may already have done so. It isn’t safe for us here.”

“He wouldn’t ransack the sooq, would he?” Jenrosa asked.

Kayakun shook his head. “Each of these houses is like a small fort. His force is not equipped for fighting in the confined space of streets and alleys, any more than we here are equipped to got out and meet him in the field.”

“Stalemate,” Ager said.

“Unless Rendle receives reinforcements,” Kayakun said. “There could be an army on its way here now from the east.”

There was an awkward silence. Ager cleared his throat. “Just how much do you know about Lynan and the situation in Kendra?”

“Everything,” Gudon said.

“You swear allegiance to the crown of Grenda Lear, and yet you are prepared to help Lynan? That would be counted as treason among some.”

“And yet
you
travel with him and protect him,” Gudon said.

“That is not an answer,” Ager insisted.

Gudon sighed. “I cannot explain all here and now, but I tell you that we Chett will never forget what Elynd Chisal did for us. Prince Lynan is his son, and will always be welcome among us even though every other people in the kingdom turn their backs on him.”

Gudon and Ager locked eyes for a second, then Ager nodded stiffly. “Good enough.”

“We are still left with the question of what to do after Rendle leaves the sooq—if he leaves,” Kumul reminded them.

“There is a way you can all be safe, and none of your enemies may find you,” Gudon said. “I will guide you myself.”

“Where is this place?”

“I did not say it is a place.”

“We have little time for riddles,” Kumul said darkly.

“I am not speaking in riddles, friend of Lynan, but you will have to wait and see. I may say no more about it. You will have to trust me.”

There was another unwelcome silence, then Lynan said: “I trust you, Gudon. I will come with you.”

Gudon regarded him solemnly. “I knew you would, little master.” He glanced at Lynan’s friends. “But what of your companions?”

Before either Ager or Kumul could reply, Jenrosa said: “If Lynan trusts you, so do I.” She glared at the other two. “And so do they.”

“Well, that settles that,” Ager said.

Kayakun slapped his hands together. “How good we are all friends, especially in this troubling time. Now I suggest—”

Before he could suggest anything, one of his servants reappeared and whispered something into his ear. His face became serious. His servant made to leave, but Kayakun called him back. “Bring food for our guests.” The servant bowed and left.

Kumul’s stomach growled at the mention of food. He looked apologetically at their host. “I have not eaten properly for a long time. None of us have.”

“That will be taken care of,” Kayakun assured him. “But now something even more important than food has come up. My servant reports that Rendle and his company are moving out, and they heard from some of the merchants that his men were talking about heading north, to Haxus.” He turned to Gudon. “As soon as they have left, you must go tonight, in case Rendle changes his mind.”

Rendle followed his men out of the sooq. At the first rise he halted with Eder and Prado and looked back. “How sure are you that the boy you saw was Prince Lynan?” he asked Prado.

“Your five men never returned. That should answer your question.”

“One day I will come back to this place,” Rendle said. “I will come back with a thousand troops and raze it to the ground.”

Prado sneered. “You really think the Chetts will let you live that long?”

Rendle ignored him.

“I had best go,” Eder suggested.

“You have your men ready?”

“Yes, exactly as you instructed. Twenty-five riders.”

“When you have finished your business, come straight to Kolbee.”

Eder nodded and left.

“All you need now is for Lynan and his friends to do exactly as you want,” Prado said mockingly.

Rendle caught Prado’s gaze and held it until the other flinched and looked away. “Lynan will flee the sooq. Whatever friends he has left know there is no true safety for him down there. Every day Lynan stays increases his chances of being assassinated, or stolen away again. Only out there on the Oceans of Grass will he truly be safe.” Rendle smiled tightly. “At least, that is what they think, and that mistake will be their undoing.”