Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) Read online

  He went armed with all that Shette could tell him: the man had been dressed in shabby clothes of an indeterminate brown color, was balding with his remaining hair cut close in the new Kurtane style, and had a mole under his left eye. He was nervous and while he had a little money, he seemed to set more value on his satchel of papers than his purse.

  In the dim light of the inn's common room, it was difficult to tell indeterminate brown from muddied blues and faded black. Ehren stood to the side of the doorway, letting his gaze wander the room. The occupants generally ignored him, though a few who'd already had too much to drink scowled at him. One of those muttered loudly, "King's Guard don't mean nothin' here."

  Ehren paid him no attention— not once he'd seen the man carried no sword and his knife was skewed on his belt, making for an awkward reach. If the fellow got any sudden ideas, his movement would be easy to spot.

  No, his attention narrowed down to exclude the thick smell of food and ale and sweat. He sorted the clutter of visual details, the bustle of serving girls and the colorful dress of the harlots and the clatter of mugs and the expansive, drink-driven laughter, and came up with—

  There. In the corner, by himself and obviously wanting no part of company. He'd seen Ehren and studiously looked away as if that meant Ehren wouldn't be able to see him in return. He blinked rapidly, making the mole under his left eye twitch a little. On the table next to him sat a small satchel; at his feet lay a bundle of clothes in a blanket. All his worldly goods, no doubt.

  Ehren eyed the number of tables between his quarry and the exit, and stepped back outside the inn.

  Laine and Shette waited, both looking much the worse for wear. Shette was exhausted, and wrung out of tears or any other emotion— it was beyond time to coax some food into her and get her to bed. Laine's arm had stiffened beneath its bandage, and he had his thumb hooked through his sword belt to protect it. Other than that he seemed determined to put what he'd seen and experienced behind him.

  Ehren well knew the encounter wouldn't be behind until Laine faced it head on, but there would be a better time to tell him so. "Stable 'em," Ehren said. "We're staying here."

  Shette didn't even ask if that meant the man was here, but Ehren nodded at Laine's quick, questioning glance. "I'll take care of it."

  Laine shrugged and led the horses toward the riverbank corrals with Shette still perched on the mare, looking as numb as Shette.

  Ehren stood against the side of the inn and waited. The man was a runner, and there was no reason to think he'd change his ways now. After a long moment, the door cracked open. It stayed cracked long enough for someone to get a good look around, and then, in the dim twilight, a small figure darted out.

  Ehren's hand was faster. He clapped it down on the fellow's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks like a rabbit too scared to move. "I think we need to talk."

  "I-I'm a Therand citizen, Clan Shahinian," the little man said, through teeth that were all but chattering. "I've committed no crime. You have no right to hold me."

  "Did I say you'd committed a crime?"

  "N-no."

  "I don't recall saying I intended you any harm, either."

  Silence. The fugitive wasn't about to believe that. With an iron grip, Ehren encouraged him to back a step or two, until his quiet voice came just above the man's ear. "You're well and good caught. I suggest you cooperate for a while, and see where it gets you."

  After a hesitation, the man nodded stiffly, clutching his possessions tightly to himself.

  The inn door creaked open again, and a woman came out, lantern in hand. She cast them a suspicious look and hung the lantern beside the door. "Trouble here?"

  "Not that I know of," Ehren said easily. "Unless you're full for the night, in which case the trouble is ours."

  "I thought he was staying in the common room."

  "His luck has changed for the better," Ehren said. "I have two friends, and five horses being stabled. What about that room?"

  She wasn't about to say no to someone who was spending on five horses. "Of course we have a room, sir," she said. "For a Guard like yourself, we would always find a room."

  For a Guard with the money, she meant, but Ehren smiled at her anyway.

  ~~~~~

  Shette sat on the small room's only bed, her shoes on the floor and her legs drawn up beneath her. She looked askance at the stained blanket, deciding once and for all that she would sleep on top of it, even though the innkeeper had assured them the beds were regularly spelled against fleas. And she wasn't sure if she would ever sleep again— or if she would stay awake even one moment longer.

  The day had left her like that.

  It seemed weeks ago that she had made the impulsive decision to come after this man. And had it only been this afternoon that she'd been in the clutches of bandits, and bound for slavery?

  No, not likely. Maybe it had never happened at all. The only thing she in which she had confidence was the feel of Ehren's strong arm around her, and the leather smell of his brigandine.

  The brigandine was off, now, and he'd changed to a worn linen shirt of a quality Shette had never owned. He stood at the end of the bed wrapping Laine's arm, while the fugitive who had started the whole thing sat on the floor with his back to the corner, miserable as his glance darted from the door to Ehren and back again.

  "Ow," Laine muttered, looking as if he wanted to say much more. Ehren's touch remained sure and even, wrapping the salve-smeared arm with the hand of experience. He tied off the bandage and rested a brief hand on Laine's shoulder.

  "It's not deep, and the edges are clean. It'll heal fine." Then he gave Laine a wry grin. "It'll just hurt like hell for a few days."

  "Tell me something I don't already know," Laine muttered. He looked as tired as Shette felt. Neither of them were used to this sort of adventure.

  Ehren, she thought, must be. Despite the chase he'd undertaken that morning and all the fighting he'd done at the bandit camp, he looked better than any of them.

  The little man spoke from his corner, his words abrupt and clipped. "What do you want from me?"

  They stared at him as one. They'd eaten with this man silent at their table, offering nothing by way of conversation, barely touching the ale they had ordered for him. He'd walked between Ehren and Laine with no objection, climbing the narrow stairs on the way to this room. He'd picked out his corner and he'd watched silently as Ehren tended Laine. And now, finally, he'd found his tongue.

  "If you're going to kill me, do it now."

  "If I was going to kill you," Ehren said dryly, "I wouldn't have brought along these two to help me."

  "What do you want from me, then?"

  "Why were you running?" Ehren countered.

  The man laughed, a high-pitched and slightly panicked sort of sound.

  Shette felt sorry for him. "What's your name?"

  He blinked at her.

  "I'm Shette. That's Laine and Ehren."

  "And what's a King's Guard doing with the likes of you?"

  "Following me," Shette said. "Because I was following you."

  "You? You were following me?"

  Ehren grinned at the man. "You'll have to learn better than to spill your secrets to a whore." He nodded at Shette. "She asked your name."

  Thoroughly puzzled, the man said, "Unai."

  "Unai, a year ago, my king was killed. My friend. Heliga says you know something about it. I want to know what."

  "Heliga?"

  "The whore," Ehren said gently. "The one you shouldn't have talked to." He left the bedside and walked over to Unai's corner. No, Shette decided, it was more of an easy stalk, with Ehren's boot heels loud against the wood floor and the buckles of his blood-spattered greaves jingling counterpoint. He crouched in front of Unai and said quietly, "I've been searching that year for Benlan's killers. I don't for a minute believe you had anything to do with it. But I do believe you know something about it, and the only thing that's going to get you in trouble now is if you d
on't tell me what it is."

  Unai, skewered by that dark gaze, couldn't seem to look away. At last he wrenched his head to the side. "I want to go to Everdawn."

  "You can go anywhere you damn well please after you talk to me."

  Unai shook his head, chancing a quick, sideways glance at Ehren. "I want an escort to Everdawn. If you want what I know, you'll keep me safe till then."

  Ehren glanced over his shoulder at Shette and Laine, something indecipherable in his gaze. "All right."

  Shette blinked. "What about us?"

  Ehren stood, turning his back on Unai— who looked as if he didn't quite believe what he'd heard. "That's your choice."

  Laine gave him an uncertain look. "I thought you wanted to take the caravan back."

  "I'll make it back in time."

  "Ansgare won't wait for him, you know he won't," Shette said abruptly, not willing to say good-bye to Ehren— nor to travel back through that spot she'd been ambushed without him. "We should go with him, Laine. Ansgare's not going anywhere until you get back."

  She expected Laine's immediate protest. What she got was silence. He gave her a speculative look, as though he'd somehow heard her unspoken thoughts. And he looked at Ehren with that same expression. "We might just be in the way, Shette."

  "I want them," the little man said suddenly. "I want them with us, or there's no deal. I'll yell so loud those louts in the common room will hear— there's no love lost for Guards down there, not when they're letting the borders grow so dangerous."

  "Think it'll keep me in line to have her along, do you?" Ehren said, dry amusement in his voice. "It's fine with me."

  All eyes were on Laine. "We owe you," Laine said to Ehren, and that was the end of it.

  "Who owes who what is a little tangled at this point," Ehren said. "But thank you."

  "Good," Laine said, then put a plaintive look on his face. "Now, can we get some sleep? I've had about all I can take out of this day."

  ~~~~~

  Ehren slept by the door. If Unai wanted to go out the small window, he'd drop two stories straight down and clamber over Laine and Shette getting there, but the door was a different matter and the little man had been eyeing it from the moment they got in the room.

  Between Unai's restless squirming in the corner— for the bed was a small one, and barely big enough for Laine and Shette— and his own churning thoughts, Ehren hadn't expected to get much sleep.

  The ring was patently unhappy with him; even strung around his neck instead of on his finger, its mood was obvious. Instead of humming happily, it rested against his skin with a soundless buzzing.

  He wasn't surprised. His orders had been explicit— drop the search for Benlan's killers and find Dannel's family instead. So here he was, following the wrong trail and moving steadily away from the ring's indication.

  With no regret whatsoever.

  For the first time since Benlan's death, he felt he'd found something that would lead further than the execution of another low-level henchman.

  On the bed, Laine made a small noise, instantly alerting Ehren. Not that it'd be unusual to have bad dreams after such a thorough introduction to mayhem and swordplay, but Ehren well remembered the last dream Laine had experienced. He sat up against the door and rested his forearms on his drawn-up knees, waiting.

  There it was, that same soft sound a protest, almost a moan of frustration. He heard Shette shift in the darkness. There was the sound of wood sliding on wood, and the shutters drifted open. Light drifted into the room along with cool night air, and Ehren could see the girl eyeing her brother with some concern.

  Laine twitched, and jerked, and a chilling, raspy protest scraped through his throat.

  That was enough for Ehren. "Laine," he said, and his flat, loud voice made Shette jump.

  "No, Ehren..." she said, as Ehren got to his feet and headed for the bed. But she didn't try to stop him— instead she swiftly removed herself reach. "It's not safe, Ehren, don't wake him—"

  "What's going on over there?" Unai asked, fear in his voice.

  Laine twisted on the bed and enough was enough. Ehren leaned over the low, narrow bed and took Laine firmly by the shoulders.

  "Wake up, Laine," he said, his voice as firm as his grip. Neither had an effect, and he gave the young man a good shake. "That's enough, Laine— wake up."

  Laine exploded into movement. The first Ehren knew of it was when Laine's fist connected solidly with the corner of his eye. Ehren rolled away, hitting the floor— coming to his feet in a crouch, ready to restrain this sudden adversary. But Laine had gone quiet again, on his hands and knees in the bed and slowly sinking to his haunches.

  Ehren blinked rapidly, tears streaming out of both eyes as the one immediately swelled closed. His vision wavered, but he could still pick out the whites of Laine's unblinking eyes. Even in starlight those eyes looked blank. Slowly, he rose to full height, and blotted his good eye against his sleeve.

  "I tried to tell you..." Shette started.

  Unai demanded, "What's going on?"

  "Be quiet," Ehren told him without sympathy. "Laine, wake up now. It was only a dream."

  "It's never only a dream," Shette muttered.

  Laine's voice came distantly; Ehren's relief at his response quickly faded. "There was a man watching," he said. "A man... but he wasn't there."

  Ehren turned to Shette, and she came to him from where she'd been standing against the door. He wondered if she realized it was probably all that had kept Unai from bolting. He nodded at Laine, who was murmuring something about being dead, and said, "What's this about, Shette? "

  "Are you all right? That was an awful sound when he hit you..."

  Ehren didn't gentle the iron in his voice this time. "Shette."

  In response he got a flare of righteously irked teenager. "Ask him," she said. "I'm not the one who does it, am I?"

  He supposed it was better than being fawned on. "I will."

  In fact, he didn't. The next morning found Laine in the sort of daze Ehren had observed when he'd had contact with Wilna's ring, and it wasn't easy to get his attention.

  "I told you not to wake him," Shette observed acerbically, though she managed to say it only once. "You got a black eye and he's not worth a thing. It's best to let him sleep it out when they're that strong."

  Ehren didn't tell her that he'd been afraid to let it get as bad as it had the last time.

  Unai spent the morning testing his limits; he rode the grey gelding and tried to get it to drift away from the group, but he was inexperienced at best and the gelding was a stubborn, herd-bound creature. Ehren let him think he hadn't been noticed and resolved to watch the man, although Unai finally seemed to settle into his new role well enough— half-captured, half-escorted, both by one of the best guards Solvany had to offer. Shette helped distract him from his plight; she seemed to have a sudden need to talk about the events of the day before.

  She kept her little mare— a creature which now bore evidence of her affection in its fancily braided mane— next to Ricasso, which put her head far below Ehren's. And she chattered.

  She asked him if he'd ever killed anyone before, or rescued anyone from bandits before, and didn't seem to mind when he didn't give her more than one or two words as an answer. She wondered what sort of people bought the slaves, and she swore she'd never travel on this road alone again. Unai seemed to take it all in, and by the end of the morning, also seemed to have resigned himself to Ehren's company.

  The road narrowed a little and climbed gradually but steadily, offering regular clusters of inns and amenities, but little in the way of settlements— the terrain didn't allow for it. They rode for two days, and in the end, they didn't quite make it to Everdawn. As they ambled in to the night's lodgings, Shette asked, "Who're all those men in uniforms?"

  He'd seen them. There were two by the barn, and three getting ready to ride out together. And he knew the uniform well enough, even if he'd only seen it in strategy manuscripts.

/>   "Lorakan army," he said quietly. He didn't mention that the army was generally inactive, except for the maintenance of its command structure. Like Solvany, Loraka had other branches of the service to take care of day-to-day peacekeeping duties.

  But these men didn't seem to be doing anything in particular here. They were just... present.

  Ehren eased the King's Guard ailette from his arm, and slid Ricasso in behind Unai's grey to dismount and shrug off his brigandine. He rolled it up lining side out and tied it behind his saddle with the gambeson, pulling his shirt from his saddlebag.

  "Problems?" Laine asked. He seemed back to his old self now, but Ehren had not found the privacy to inquire about his dreams— nor had he completely decided that it was his business, after all. Even if his eye was still damnably sore, and splashed with the greenly dark colors of a hailstorm— or so Shette had informed him.

  Ehren looked up at Laine. "Not that I know of." But he followed Laine's gaze to the two soldiers by the barn. "Just don't want to raise any interest. Being a Guard won't buy me any leeway here." He led Ricasso out in to the front of the group. "Come on. Standing here looking at them isn't going to come across all that well, either."

  Privately, he knew his feeble attempts at camouflage would do him little good if he happened across a man with experience. They would recognize it in one another, and if the Lorakan was looking for trouble, he would be able to make it.

  ~~~~~

  The lingering effects of the Dream left Laine wearied. Shette kept turning into that same vacant-eyed girl, and Unai occasionally faded into a boy he hadn't seen until now, a youngster who usually twirled himself in dizzying circles. And amongst it all, he had the feeling there was someone looking over his shoulder— cold, dark eyes with no mercy in them.

  He fell back into the old childhood habit of closing first one eye, and then the other, searching for some difference in the way his unmatched eyes perceived the world. If only he could find one, maybe he could avoid these unbidden visions.

  But he hadn't.

  Laine remembered nothing of the Dream itself— that was the way of things when he was startled awake in the middle of one. He knew he'd managed to thoroughly blacken Ehren's eye— and even when he didn't want to believe it, there was Ehren, sitting across the table from him and looking like he'd smeared soot on his fist and rubbed his face with it.