The Hekamon (38 page)

After they had gone far enough into the glades, so as to
be out of sight of the village, Galvyn spoke, "What will you do
now?"

"I'm going home."

"I thought we were going to stick together?"

"Just because I leave, doesn't mean I won't come
back."

"Okay," Galvyn said, his anxiety clear in his
voice, "It's just…when you said you wouldn't leave me—"

"Well—" Alyssa looked around, "I
might have just said that, to keep you sweet."

"Oh."

Alyssa looked at Galvyn who seemed crestfallen. Now she
thought about it again perhaps there had been more to it. "What
I mean is, I could have made a run for it but thought we should stick
together, it might be better that way."

"Yes." Galvyn said, cheering up.

"I was a close run thing, wasn't it." Alyssa
said, trying to cheer him up more.

"It was. We held our nerve and kept our word."

"The guards were frightened of the forest too, that
helped."

"Yes," he said, before slowing his pace and
looking around.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me," she could sense something was
worrying him.

"Well, this is the glades," he said in a
whisper, "the guards aren't the only ones who are frightened of
this forest."

She stopped.

Alyssa lived in the marshes and spent most of her time
in a dangerous swamp or forests of one kind or another. It was easy
for her to forget that others would not be as comfortable in these
surroundings as she was.

"We're safe if we stay together," she said,
thinking this might reassure Galvyn a little, but it seemed to have a
more positive effect on him than she'd expected.

"You're right, thank you," his demeanor
improving markedly, "but I'm lost already, where are we going?
Do you know?"

Now that Galvyn mentioned it, she hadn't been paying any
attention to where they were going. All they were doing was putting
some distance between themselves and Tivitay. Fortunately,
this part of the glades was familiar enough to her that she wasn't
lost.

"I know where we are. There's a place nearby where
we can rest and decide what we are going to do next."

"Okay, that sounds like a good idea," Galvyn
said, "I have a decision to make, too, because from what I heard
the guard say, it looks like I can't go back to my lodgings tonight.
They are waiting for me to return."

"Yes, I heard him say that. It looks like you
might have to spend a night in the forest," she said in a
sinister voice, before giggling at Galvyn's expression.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"It will be fine, and do you know why?"

"No why?"

"I will stay with you, we're sticking together
remember."

Galvyn smiled and seemed to relax, and she relaxed, too.
Their near miss with the guards was behind them now and the danger
had passed. They started walking again, with Alyssa leading and
Galvyn wondering aloud about their destination.

"Where did you say we are going?"

"A place called Tivitayall, have you heard of it?"

"No."

"It's not far, I'll show you," she said,
walking east in the direction of the hall.

As the two of them continued on in silence, it gave
Alyssa time to think. And as she did, a thought occurred to her, one she found disturbing.

If Tregarron had been in possession of the
Ettinshel the whole time, why hadn't she sensed it? Might she have
become detached from it and in more ways than one? The idea cause her
some consternation, not least because she'd thought that might be
happening, even before today.

Alyssa had felt for some time its powers had been
waning. Its effect on her had been stronger when she was a child.
Now it spoke to her less often, and her intuitiveness was not what it
used to be.

These days her visions were mundane, or absent
completely, her dreams less vivid and lacking the lucidity they once
had. Was it the Ettinshel's powers that had weakened, or her
connection to it?

There would have been a time, when if it were ten feet
from her she would have known for certain. Now she needed to be
in a receptive state of mind and hold it close just to feel its
presence.

If the Ettinshel's powers were diminishing, then it might
mean it falling into the wrong hands was less consequential.
Tregarron had not seemed to be helped by it, although now she came to
think about it, he had very nearly caught her. The man had got from
the trading post to within a few feet of her in what felt like
seconds. What had been guiding him?

She couldn't take the chance that the necklace was
losing its powers, and besides, it belonged to her and nobody else.
Her mother had entrusted it to her. She would want it back for that
reason alone.

If she had to get her necklace out of the fort, then
that's what she would do.

Kormak felt the land shake, a low reverberation that he
could feel all around him. There was a struggle taking place, an injustice had
occurred and was still ensuing, but something was fighting back.

The
dream felt more vivid than usual, lucid even. It was as though he
could control it, or question and learn from it. He tried to do so,
what injustice? Who was fighting back? But before he could get an
answer, he was interrupted.

"There's someone on the bridge," Palfrey said,
rousing him from his sleep.

"Alyssa?" he said, saying the first word that
came into his mind.

"No, a man, he was crossing but now he's stopped."

Kormak rubbed his eyes and scrambled across the floor of
the crow's nest to get a view of the bridge. His sleepiness had not
left his limbs and he clattered around noisily.

"Quiet," Palfrey instructed, as a nearby raven
sounded its irritation at the intrusion.

"Anyone you recognize?" He asked, trying to
focus his eyes on the man on the bridge.

"No, and now he's moving again."

Kormak found a suitable gap to look through and watched
as the man walked across the remainder of the bridge and onto their side.
The closer he got, the more of the man he could make out, and a few
things were apparent even in the fading light.

"Southerner, do you think?" Palfrey asked.

"Could
be," he said, studying the man carefully.

The tunic suggested Coralainian, but the coat and boots did not, nor his
hair, which was noticeably longer than most Coralainians he'd seen.
Clean shaven, tall, strong looking but alone, and with a large bag
over one shoulder. If he
was
Coralainian, then he might be trying to disguise the fact, and that
worried Kormak.

The man continued walking toward them, fifty feet below
and about the same distance away now.

Palfrey lowered his voice to a whisper, "What do
you think? Should we follow him?"

"No, it's daylight we have to let him go."

"It won't be for much longer, we should follow
him." Palfrey was right about the fast diminishing daylight.
More hours had passed than he'd realized.

"Why would he start across the marshes at this
hour?"

"Who knows, let's follow him," Palfrey was
becoming insistent, "I want to see what he has in his bag."

The man stopped at the fork and looked in the direction
of Ochre Hill. They exchanged a look of amazement.

"He can't be thinking of going…he must be
lost," Palfrey said, speaking as quietly as possible.

"Lost, or looking for something," he replied,
in an equally hushed tone, but for reasons other than not giving away
their position.

Could he know we have the iron grippers? If he did,
he didn't go in the direction of the hill, but took the west fork
and the Fennelbek Way.

The man's look toward Ochre Hill may have been
coincidental, but it prompted Kormak to recall something Saskia had
said. While he knew he'd paid a high price for the grippers, the
herbswoman had thought them to be worth more. If she was right, then
there was a very real chance they were stolen.

The man had been gone for about a minute, when Kormak
heard a call from below. Tolle and the twins had come out from the
den and were standing on the Ochre Way. He and Palfrey started to
descend the crow's nest to join them there, while he
continued his chain of thought.

If the grippers were stolen, might someone be looking
for them?

His mind started to race at this realization and he was
fully awake now. If the grippers could be tracked to trading post,
and if the merchant revealed who he'd sold them to, then they could
expect some visitors. Would Tansley keep quiet? Would he be discrete?
Maybe, or maybe not. He didn't know the man well enough to be sure
but Kormak suspected he knew the answer.

He started to feel a rising panic. The iron grippers
were military apparel and were likely to be possessed by someone of a
senior rank. That had been their attraction to him. And if they
originated form south of the mountains, then the Coralainian militia
might be seeking their return.

He reached the bottom of the tree and steadied
himself, a feeling of nausea was setting in, his mind working on the
ramifications.

What if Tansley were to tell inquiring visitors that
he had sold the grippers to two Fennreans, and Alyssa were to trace
her steps all the way back to the trading post? She had been gone
long enough for her to have done so. He never would have imagined
that she'd have gone that far, but she could be determined when she
wanted to be. His breathing became labored. What might have happened
to Alyssa?

He stumbled out of the undergrowth beneath the tree and
followed Palfrey onto the junction.

"What do you two think?" Tolle asked, in a
whispered voice.

"We should follow him." Palfrey said
emphatically.

"I agree," Tolle replied, "Kormak?"

"I…I'm worried about Alyssa," he said,
unable to keep the panic from his voice.

"We're all worried about your sister, but—"
Tolle stopped, he'd heard something. They all had. It was the sound
of approaching footsteps.

Captain Elidyr Tregarron walked through the main gate of
the fort and into the gatehouse, where he was greeted by the only
guard on duty there. The guard, also called Tregarron, smiled warmly as he arrived.

"How are things?" Kathryn asked, from behind
the duty desk.

His expression probably answered her question, but he
told her anyway, "Busy."

"So I've heard, can I help in any way?"

"Is there any beer?"

It was thirsty work
chasing criminals, and he watched as his wife took a bottle from a
cupboard, but not before raising an eyebrow at him.

"There's been some activity here, too," she
said, handing him the beer.

"Are you talking about the three bound men that
were brought in?" he asked, removing the cap on the edge of the
desk and taking a few gulps.

"Yes, they've been secured in the prison, the
bailiff is there as well."

"Good," he was pleased to hear the bailiff was
in charge of them, "I will question them later, but right now I
have to see Lord Jephson, is he in his office?"

"I don't know but I would imagine so. I've been
here in the gatehouse by myself for most of the afternoon, where is
everyone?"

"Strung out from the bridge to the pass," he
said, between swigs.

"The bridge?" Kate asked, alarmed, "Fennreans
are involved?"

"Yes, it seems so."

"Jephson won't like that," Kate said, shaking
her head.

He finished the last of the beer in one go. "I'm
counting on it."

"Another?"

"Not right now."

It was only weak table beer
but he wanted to stay focused.

"Will I be here on my own until the night watch
arrive?" she asked, with a hint of worry in her voice.

For some time now, the most dangerous enemy they faced
were drunks and the occasional thief, nothing that Kate couldn't deal
with. She could be a formidable guardswoman and handled a truncheon
deftly, as many of those worse for drink had discovered. It was this
lack of any serious threats that had prompted Jephson to wind down
the number of guards under his command.

On this occasion though, Tregarron thought his wife's
concern was understandable. The injuries to the merchant and armorer,
along with Coralainian prisoners and talk of Fennreans, was obviously
more than she could be expected to deal with on her own.

"You'll get some help before long, Tivitay is a
small village and some of the men I have searching there will be back
soon."

"Good, I could use some company. Update me on
things when you get a chance."

"I will, and if the men report back with any
important news, have them bring it to me. I will either be in the
keep or the prison."

"Okay, will do."

Walking from the gatehouse, he crossed the courtyard and
entered the keep by the main entrance. The large oak door was heavy
and opened slowly, once through he proceeded down the short stone
passage that took him into the great hall, before crossing the
flagstones purposefully. Several doors lead off from this crux of the
keep, but his destination was the door that lay directly ahead of
him. It was the door to the chancery, Jephson's office, and the place
from where most of the affairs of the fort, and indeed Demedelei,
were run. The door was open, as it so often was. Very little could
happen without its occupant knowing. Just about everything had to go
by this door.

Tregarron walked up and knocked, more out of courtesy
than necessity, and entered.

"Lord Jephson," he said, on seeing the large,
heavy set man seated at his desk. The lord's stocky build, shock of
red hair and full beard, gave the man had an imposing presence.

"Captain Tregarron, Brigantia tells me you were
looking for me earlier," Jephson replied, while indicating for
him to take a seat, which he did without hesitation.