The Kinshield Legacy (32 page)

Brodas Ravenkind examined the chest on his desk. He’d long believed that any magic could be defeated, but the gargoyle lock was both ingenious and maddening.

Only three gems remained from his supply, and as he picked up each one, he kenned it, measuring it against the strength of his own magic. “Blasted rocks,” he muttered under his breath. For all but the most basic of spells, they were not nearly dense enough. Soon Lilalian’s battlers would apprehend the rune solver. Without a supply of magic grade gems, Brodas would have to rely on less civilized means to pry from his lips the solutions to the final two runes.

He supposed he could extract the information by laying his hands upon the rune solver the way he healed people. But without gems to focus through, the task would be difficult at best. He would likely faint from the exertion and pain. Losing self-control that way was unacceptable, especially in the presence of the man solving the King’s Runes. No. He needed those gems.

The irony was not lost on Brodas. He needed the King’s Blood-stone to get the answer to the rune that kept him from the King’s Blood-stone. A gem of equal quality would certainly do, but such stones were all too rare in Thendylath. One of the other gems, those already claimed by the mysterious rune solver, would be more than adequate, but until he was captured, those gems were equally inaccessible. Besides, only a fool would carry gems as invaluable as those around with him. Even when they did locate the rune solver, he wouldn’t likely reveal their location without prompting, and for that Brodas would need the very gems the rune solver would have hidden.

If Sithral Tyr’s scheme worked, and his associates managed to secure a gemsmith’s daughter to hold for ransom, a supply of magic quality gems would soon be within reach. In fact, Brodas should have received word by now that the woman was in Tyr’s custody. Annoyance creased his brow. The Nilmarion probably got carried away torturing her and lost track of time.

Brodas spent the afternoon searching his vast library for ideas on how to defeat the gargoyle lock. No such lock had been documented in any of his books, and as he set down one after another, he grew more and more irritated by his lack of progress and the futility of continuing to search.

Someone knocked on the door of his library.

“Come in,” he snapped. The unintentional volume of his voice surprised him and he relaxed his shoulders and rotated his head to ease the tension in his neck.

Brodas expected to see his cousin when he looked up, but instead he found the youthful face of his newest man-at-arms. For once, he felt glad of it. “Ah, Domach, you’ve returned. I take it our guest is comfortable?”

Domach Demonshredder bowed with more elegance than Brodas had thought him capable. “Guest, my lord?”

Brodas sighed. Not so bright, this one. “The young lady you took to Sithral Tyr’s house,” he explained patiently.

Domach’s eyes widened. “I waited at the Lucky Inn for a week, but Lord Tyr’s friends never arrived. I didn’t know I was to escort a lady, just that I would receive a package.”

Brodas scowled. “Never arrived? Did you tell this to Tyr?”

“I received my instructions from Toren Meobryn. Lord Tyr preferred it that way.”

Trying to be careful, Brodas supposed. He didn’t blame the Nilmarion, especially after nearly being caught selling orphans to the slave traders. “All right, have you told Toren, then?”

“Not exactly, my lord. He knew at the time he left the Lucky Inn that the package hadn’t yet arrived. I stayed a few more days and still Tyr’s friends did not come.”

Brodas rubbed his brow. “All right. Why don’t you go relax for the evening and come back tomorrow? I’ll have an assignment for you then.”

Domach bowed and left.

No hostage meant no gems. No gems meant no answers to runes. This would not do. He turned back to the chest with the gargoyle lock. There had to be a way to get past it.

Chapter 35

The city of Sohan sat in the distance, embraced by a tall stone wall. Farmers led their mule-drawn carts through the eastern gate and dispersed into the farms that huddled around the city.

Home. Daia looked forward to sleeping in her own bed, if only for one night.

She glanced at the dried blood on his trouser leg. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” she asked. “That’s too large a blood stain for a ‘mere scratch,’ as you say. Just let me look at it.”

Gavin shot her an impatient glower and said nothing.

Daia sighed. “Fine. I won’t worry about you, then.”

As they rode downhill toward Sohan, Daia grew more uneasy. If the things Gavin had said were true, she needed to find out why. Her reputation within the Sisterhood was far from her largest concern anymore. She’d pledged fealty to Gavin. She was no longer a Viragon Sister. His assertion that the Sisterhood had sent battlers to attack him weighed heavily upon her mind. She did not think he would lie to her, but found it difficult to believe. Gavin must have misunderstood what the two Sisters had told him. “I need to go to the compound and find out what’s going on,” Daia said.

“You took an oath. You saying you want to break with me already?”

“No, of course not. Gavin, the Sisterhood was my home – my family. That a Viragon Sister would attack you under orders from Aminda is disturbing. For my own peace of mind, I need to know why. I need to know whether the guild I spent six years of my life serving is corrupt at its core, or if those two battlers were renegades.”

Gavin shrugged. “If they see you as a traitor, being in Sohan’s prob’ly dangerous for you. Until that other girl returns, they won’t know who I am, but you…”

“Let me go to the compound alone, then, and talk to them. You can wait for me at a place of your choosing.”

He didn’t answer, and they rode in silence until they reached the gate just after dusk. “Meet me at the western gate at daybreak,” he said. “If you’re not there, I go on alone.”

“I’ll be there or I’ll be dead.” She bowed in the saddle and guided Calie down Music Street toward the Sisterhood compound. She owed him a favor for this.

Gavin watched Daia as she left, wondering at the sight of her back whether she would return. If she were a prudent battler, she would exercise caution, knowing that the guild considered her a traitor. If not, then he supposed he was better off without her. The thought was moan-worthy. He enjoyed her company if not the comfort of having her eye on his back.

He dismounted and led Golam through the streets of Sohan on foot. It wasn’t one of his favorite cities, but he knew where to find other warrant knights for ales and tales. Along the main thoroughfares, free-standing cressets had been lit, providing enough light that people needed no torches to find their way.

The clang of metal striking metal brought Gavin to a stop. That sound, familiar in a distant way, stirred a memory of something from his past. He couldn’t quite capture it, like trying to grab a fistful of smoke. It might have had something to do with his father, but no matter how he tried, he saw in his mind’s eye only a tall ceiling and something tan.

He continued through the market, scanning for a food vendor. As he walked along, he caught sight of a familiar face in the crowd: his passionate pendant thief.

He tied Golam’s reins to a post so that he could circle around and approach her from behind. He wove his way through the townsfolk bartering for late-day discounts until he stood directly beside her. The woman stood before a bread cart, squeezing loaves and tearing off small chunks from the bottoms whenever the merchant looked away. With a cool smile, he gripped her upper arm.

She gasped and tried to jerk away, looking up with an expression of shock that changed quickly to recognition and then to dread.

“You didn’t even leave me a pielar for a piece of bread.”

The woman stuttered for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’ll give it back.”

He pulled her through the crowd to stand under a lamp so he could heat his blade.

“Mama!” A trio of children swarmed them. Tiny fists rained down on Gavin’s hand, arm, back and buttocks. “Let her go! Let go-a my mother!” they cried. A dirty-faced boy with matted brown hair opened his mouth wide and set his teeth against Gavin’s forearm.

“There now, stop that,” he said, yanking his arm out of the child’s mouth. Tiny indentations formed two semi-circles in his skin. Something hit him hard in the shin. Gavin turned and saw his would-be pickpocket from Ambryce with the copper-colored hair, snarling like a rabid dog and kicking him repeatedly with her tattered boot. He took hold of the girl by the shoulder, holding her at arm’s length, out of range of her feet. “You again. This is your mother?”

“Yeh,” she said, “and you better leave her alone.” She kicked out again and missed her target by a half-foot.

“It’s awright, Fiora,” the woman said. She put an arm around her daughter and pulled her away from Gavin. “He just wants to talk to me. You and the boys go stand over there a minute.”

The children stopped their attack and glared at him while they backed away. They huddled by the wall of a shop. The girl was the tallest; the two boys couldn’t have been more than four or five years old.

“I already spent most of it,” the woman said as she pulled Gavin’s coin purse from a pocket. “But here’s what’s left. Please don’t take me to gaol -- my children’ll have nobody.”

“Where’s their father?” Gavin asked.

“Bein’ ripped asunder by beyonders, I hope. He promises to do what needs doin’, then runs away like a timid puppy -- just like his own papa. Leaves his children to suffer for his failures.” She held the purse out to him and he took it, but he didn’t have to open it to know that Calewen’s Pendant was not inside.

“The necklace – where is it?”

“Sold it,” she said, glancing away.

“Don’t lie to me. Who’d you give it to?”

She tucked her lips between her teeth. A tear dribbled from one eye and she quickly wiped it away. “The battler you was settin’ with at the tavern. He tol’ me I could keep the money if I stole the necklace and gave it to ’im.”

“Which one? There were three.” He needed proof before he took his sword to the matter.

She hung her head and said, “The blond with the beard.”

To be sure, he relaxed his gaze and looked over the glow surrounding her body. She’d told him the truth. “Why’d you do it?”

She sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “I had to hire a ride to Sohan. It was too far for the young’uns to walk.”

He picked up first her right hand, then her left, pushing up her sleeves to reveal the smooth skin on her forearms. No brands yet. “Dalli, you know I got to do this,” he said softly.

She nodded without looking up.

He drew his knife and held the blade in the cresset’s flame. “Don’t jerk. It’ll hurt more if you do.” He grasped her left wrist tightly to hold her arm still. As he dragged the tip of his knife over her skin, a line of blood rose to the surface. After carving the G, he wiped her arm with his shirt tail before starting on the K. Tears streamed down her face, but she did not make a peep. When he released her arm, it fell limply to her side. She didn’t clutch it, didn’t try to wrap it in the cloth of her blouse. She stood with her eyes downcast.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Take this.” He picked up her right hand and put his coin purse in her palm.

“It never ends, does it?” she asked softly. “My children’ll grow up the way I did and raise their children the same way. Beggin’, whorin’, stealin’. It’ll never end.”

“It can end,” Gavin replied. “But you have to end it. You have to be the strong one. Find yourself a job as a washerwoman or somethin’. Teach your children how to live an honest life by your example.”

She nodded and sniffled. “I will. I got a new friend,” she said. “A wealthy friend. He said he’d help me. I just need to find him, but I’m havin’ no luck.”

“Who’s your friend?”

“Lord Tyr. I tried askin’ the Lordover Sohan where he lives, but the guards wouldn’t let me up to ’is mansion.”

“Sithral Tyr? The Nilmarion?” Gavin asked.

She looked up, her face brightening. “Yeh, that’s ’im. You know ’im? You know where I could find ’im?”

Gavin glanced over at the children watching them from under the shop’s awning. “If you don’t want a brand on your other arm, you’ll stay away from Sithral Tyr. He’s the one who sent you to steal that necklace by way of the blond battler. Look what it got you.”