Barrenlands (The Changespell Saga) Read online

  Ehren's voice held an anger he hadn't intended. "The people that cause the trouble, Laine, are the ones that try to bend the world to their personal whims."

  "In the end, it doesn't matter," Dannel said, and his voice was just as hard. "Life doesn't come with directions, Laine." He looked at Jenorah. "We'll manage. We've done it before."

  "Once we arrive in T'ieranguard, we'll spend a day or two being visible," Ehren said. "And then we'll make some very public good-byes, and I'll head back up the Trade Road."

  "I really don't think you should head out on your own." Doubt drew Laine's brow.

  "There may be another way," Dannel said, realization crossing his face. "There may be..." He sent an unexpected grin at Jenorah. "It's been done before."

  Shette scowled, looking like a kid left out of a secret. She scraped surprisingly crunchy ham onto everyone's plate and plunked the skillet down on the table. "Just tell us," she said, sitting down in the empty chair. "And eat before it gets too cold."

  Jenorah lifted an eyebrow at her, and after a moment, Shette wiggled. That seemed to be enough; Jenorah took up the tined spoon beside her plate and calmly began to eat. "She does have a point. And it might be good for everyone to have a chance to think before this conversation goes any further. Eat."

  They ate in silence, but not for very long. Dannel was the one who broke it. "It's a good idea, I think," he said. "Listen, Ehren. You want to get back home as soon as possible. I want my children in a safer place than T'ieranguard."

  "Ehren taught me how to watch out for myself," Shette said, stung.

  Laine shook his head. "And now I know how to hold a sword correctly. But do you honestly think, Shette, that if the bandits ambushed you today, things would turn out any differently?"

  She looked down at her plate. "No."

  But Ehren watched Dannel. "What have you got in mind?"

  "The summer clan house for Grannor is practically on the border of the Barrenlands. That is how I found Jenny, after all. They'd probably be delighted to take Shette in for a while— and you, Shette, would probably have the time of your life there. Laine'll chafe, but he'll survive a month or two of it." He looked at Ehren and grinned. "And, as I mentioned before, Grannor is the T'ieran clan again."

  "They can give dispensation for traveling the Barrenlands," Ehren said, finally catching where Dannel's thoughts were taking them all.

  "They'd probably be glad to, after you escort Laine and Shette there," Jenorah said, a smile breaking over her face as well. "I knew Sherran, when I was younger. She'll do this for me."

  "Wait a minute," Laine said. "You want me to hole up in Therand and leave you two here alone?"

  "Their best chance is to be alone," Ehren said. "And to be very quiet."

  "I could come back here from T'ieranguard while you take Shette to Grannor..." But Laine trailed off, evidently realizing he'd circled back to the argument that was taking them away from the farm in the first place. He was associated with Ehren, now. He frowned, a mighty thing. "I don't like it much."

  "We'll be fine." Jenorah gestured with her spoon for emphasis. "We're the parents and that means we know what we're talking about."

  Ehren ducked his head, which didn't go far to hide his amusement. Laine rolled his eyes. "It's true, Ehren. That's a rule they made up when I asked why one too many times. It's been a long while since they dragged it out on me, though."

  "In this case, a good rule," Ehren said, still smiling. "And it helps settle things. I want to leave tomorrow."

  Jenorah rose and picked up her plate. "Then I'd best be finding that ring my mother gave me— the Clan Grannor crest with my birthstone. And some paper and a pen. My, I hope I remember how to write."

  Dannel smiled at his wife's back, and gave Laine a wink. "It'll be all right, son. And it's about time you saw something of one of your countries."

  But it was Ehren that Laine looked to for final reassurance— along with Shette, who gave him a worried eye. He nodded. "It's a good plan. It'll work."

  We'll make it work.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ehren limped through the open market of T'ieranguard, feeling very little like a King's Guard. He no longer wore his ailette. Nor did he look the part — with pounds lost in recovery, pants ripped and tied, and a borrowed old shirt too tight in the shoulders.

  The used clothing booths drew him on.

  Laine and Shette were off hunting traveling parties who might take them for part of the journey. They planned to barter on Ehren's ability to protect them— not too much, Ehren hoped. But they needed company, if only so there weren't three of them out on the open road alone, easy to identify.

  Easy to ambush.

  He found himself watched. The old woman sat in the sun on the other side of a table piled with clothes; her overloaded wagon stood behind her. "Don't I just know what you're here for, then," she said, raking him up and down with her gaze.

  He spread his arms in capitulation, glancing down at his clothes, and grinned at her. She smiled back, a toothless expression, and her eyes, permanently narrowed from years of squinting into the sun, brightened as they traveled up and down his frame. "I can fit you well, I'm sure, lad," she said. "Not the fancy things, am I right? Just something broad enough for those shoulders, eh?"

  Ehren moved his shoulders inside the borrowed shirt. "Well-made, well-mended, that's good enough."

  "Pair of trous, too, I can see," she said, nodding at his leg. "I can take the shirt in trade, but those pants go to the rags. Those bloodstains'll not come out!"

  "Not likely," Ehren agreed.

  The woman ran her hands over a pile of shirts, tugging and prodding. "Wrong size…wrong color…" She glanced up at him. "A man like you should have a shirt to show him off."

  He grinned. "That sell you many shirts?"

  "Enough." She pulled a shirt free and snapped it out from its folded state. "But I have eyes, young man." She leaned over the table, stretching her bowed, shortened frame to hold the shirt in front of Ehren. "Not quite. Have you been long, here at the border?"

  "A handful of days." One was more like it, but he wanted to lay a confusing trail, one that would hide the fact that he'd been away from T'ieranguard— one that would obscure his journey to Laine's home.

  "Long enough to pick up some friends, then." The look she shot him was unreadable, but she shifted her gaze to look at something behind him, and then back again. "Ah." She pulled something out from the bottom of a pile. "I was saving this one. See if you like it."

  It had been a deep scarlet, he guessed; now it was something a bit muddier. But it was a thick, tough weave, and the fit looked right. He pulled off Dannel's shirt and held it over. "I bow to your judgment."

  "Something for the other half, then..." Her age-crooked hands prowled through the mounded clothing as he shrugged himself into the faded scarlet and tugged it into place. She glanced up and nodded. "That's just the thing for you, young man. Now then, tell me— you aren't planning to spoil it right off with more of your precious blood, are you?"

  Ehren snorted, more surprised than anything else. "Not if I can help it."

  "Couldn't help but wonder, you see, the way those two have kept an eye on you."

  Ehren forced away the impulse to turn around find those two. He'd seen two men at the inn this morning who looked a little too familiar; he had little doubt he'd discover them now.

  She glanced up at him, and the banter was gone from her gaze. "Here, now," she said. "You just turn all the way around so I can make certain that shirt fits." She gestured the circle with her finger, and then repeated it when he didn't respond immediately. "Go on, then. You don't get to keep it until I've judged the set of it across your back."

  Holding his arms away from his sides slightly, he did as she requested. Yes. The same men.

  "Was that enough?" she asked. "Or do you need another go at them?"

  He grinned at her again, only this one was tight. "I saw them, thank you."<
br />
  "Good. Will these do you?" She handed him a pair of black pants with a line of grey piping down the sides, a soldier's wear. "I judge they'll go the length of your legs, which says something for them."

  "Considering your eye with the shirt, I'll take that on faith." He paid her the few coppers she asked of him, and another besides. "Thank you for your help."

  "Oh, my pleasure," she told him, and sent the faintest of scowls behind his shoulder. "I do know how to take the measure of a man, as you've seen."

  Ehren only hoped those men were as unfamiliar with this market as he was— for if he didn't lose them, he was going to have to discourage them.

  ~~~~~

  In the deep darkness of early morning, Laine tightened the cinch on his father's pony Nimble and made sure the new mule's packs were fastened securely— and wished his thoughts would settle.

  Ansgare had convinced him to make a run of the route when he returned from Grannor, just the two of them— hopeful that the wizard's death during the avalanche would mean their troubles were over.

  Deep inside, Laine knew better.

  Until then, Ansgare would stay here in T'ieranguard, feeling out new connections in case the route remained unmanageable. And he was willing— or, more accurately, eager— to spread misinformation about Ehren's whereabouts.

  Shette led Nell up beside Laine in the inn stable overhang, both of them nothing but dim figures in the new hint of dawn. "Are you sure we should let Ehren talk to these guys alone?"

  Laine hesitated. "He knows what he's doing. But... I'm not sure we should let him do it alone, no." He sighed, testing one last knot and letting the stiff rope fall to the side of the pack with a thwap. "Of course, I'm not sure he's any better off with me there, either."

  "But Laine, his leg..."

  I know, Shette, I know.

  But too much time had passed.

  Laine handed her the mule's lead and tossed Nimble's lead around the hitching post. "I'll go see." He headed for the inn, as uneasy about it all as he'd been the night before when Ehren had told them about the men over dinner.

  "You were followed?" Laine had asked numbly, and the fine venison in his mouth had turned dry and hard to swallow. Ehren's concerns about staying at the farm had been justified, then. And the danger to his parents... Laine longed to return to them, to make sure everything was all right.

  But that would only make things worse.

  He gritted his teeth, then deliberately unclenched them to take a long draught of watered wine. "I take it you lost them."

  "I did," Ehren nodded. "But it was only an exercise. They were here this morning, too."

  Shette's light brown eyes went wide with worry. "What're we gonna do?"

  "Discourage them, I suspect," Ehren said. "And leave tomorrow."

  "I found a small group of travelers," Laine said. "They're willing to have us along— in fact, I think they'd be glad for us. They were just visiting family, and don't seem too confident about being on the road— I guess there's been some trouble here, too. But they're not leaving for another several days."

  "It's more important for us to get out of here. It's time to lose those men and move on, before they decide to do more than just keep track of us." He took a generous gulp of his wine. "We can always wait a few days down the road for the people you've found."

  Laine said, "I think we should. They're heading right for the Grannor summer home. Or the closest town, anyway."

  "Discourage those men... how?" Shette asked faintly, pushing a strip of venison around on her plate.

  "With whatever it takes," Ehren had told her.

  With whatever it takes, Laine repeated to himself in the darkness, pretending his stomach hadn't tightened up at the thought.

  Because Ehren had lost those two men in the market— and then then he'd followed them back to a rougher inn nearby. And now he was there, discussing the situation.

  Discouraging them. Alone.

  Laine navigated the dark, close streets of T'ieranguard and found the Trader's Choice with little trouble. He pushed the thick door open with trepidation, glad to discover a smoking candle lamp at the end of the bar. Light from a back room meant someone was up; probably the cook.

  Laine drew his sword, his hand sweaty on the grip, and quietly found the steep, enclosed stairs to the second story, leaving those in the common room snoring and none the wiser.

  Another flickering candle sent dancing light from the end of the narrow second story hall, picking out the edges of each doorway. No magic light glows in this inn. He stopped at each door, listening, wondering if he'd found the wrong inn after all and knowing there was no way to explain his presence.

  He'd just about decided he'd gotten the wrong inn after all when he caught a murmured word; he held his breath and moved up closer to the doorway, straining his ears— and finally heard the familiar timbre of Ehren's smooth voice. There was nothing in that voice to suggest trouble, but Laine cracked the door and looked inside anyway.

  Ehren knelt on the bed with two men, both of whom still lay there, stiff and uncomfortable. Ehren cast a quick, dark look over his shoulder, saw Laine, and jerked his head in a silent get in here.

  By then Laine realized Ehren wasn't sitting with the two men, but on one of them, straddling the man's stomach. The other lay crowded up against the wall; Ehren's sword rested against his throat, while his dagger pushed into the notch between the first man's collarbones.

  "Shette was worried," Laine said, uneasy at the tension that permeated the room, and the rank smell of fear.

  "No need for it," Ehren said. "These two drink too heavily, and sleep too heavily as well. We were just discussing their orders. Who gave them, their specific intent... that sort of thing." His voice, deliberately casual, held an edge of danger.

  I shouldn't have come. Hindsight was such a wonderful thing. Laine's sword felt awkward in his hand, but he left it there.

  "There's no use to ask," the inner man said; his partner seemed more concerned with breathing under Ehren's weight to be chatty. "We can't tell you anything."

  "Make an effort," Ehren said. "Because if you can't convince me you're going to stop following me, I'll kill you right here."

  Laine winced. "Ehren, do you have to..."

  "Stay out of this, Laine." Ehren's voice was pleasant on the surface and steel underneath.

  "You wouldn't," the man said, but not with any certainty. "All we done is follow you. There ain't no great harm in that!"

  "That's my call." Ehren's grim expression gave no reassurance. "Why don't you ask my friend if he thinks I wouldn't." Ehren nodded at Laine. "And keep your voice down while you're at it. I can cut your throat and still get my answers from your partner."

  Laine struggled with his composure, sure that his horror showed on his face. Ehren, swift and implacable with his sword, Ehren, fighting his way out of the triggered spell and grinning afterward…Ehren, disemboweling one of Shette's captors, taking the other from behind…

  And walking away without looking back.

  The man did look at Laine, as though to ask— but saw Laine's expression and swallowed hard instead. He tried to wiggle back away, but the wall stopped him.

  "We can work something out—" His voice had gotten hoarse at the edges. A thin trickle of blood ran down his neck, dark in the grey dawn light.

  Ehren leaned over the man, their faces only inches apart. His expression and voice were equally hard. "Don't waste my time."

  Laine found himself suddenly sweating. "Ehren—"

  "Your orders," Ehren said, pinning the man with his piercing gaze, still only inches away. "And who's paying you."

  "You don't understand," croaked the man beneath Ehren.

  Ehren never turned away from the man against the wall, never turning down the intensity of his gaze. "Make your choice."

  "We don't know— I mean, we're only to follow—"

  "No, don't— !" his partner gasped.

  Ehren snapped the ridge of his knuckles
against the man's throat in a quick, decisive motion. While his partner choked, the fellow against the wall talked, and talked fast.

  "We're only following you— and just until the boss is satisfied. We make our reports to—" His voice cut off, stopped from within as though by force. His eyes widened, frightened and imploring.

  "I told you!" his partner managed to choke out. "I told you— !"

  The man's mouth moved— useless attempts at speech. Ehren quickly lifted his sword away from the man's neck. And Laine, suddenly aware that his Sight tickled at him, made the effort to See the three men— and startled at the roiling red ugliness coalescing around the stricken man's chest. "Ehren! Magic!"

  Ehren threw himself away from the bed, dragging his prisoner to the floor with him. "Watch him," he snapped at Laine, springing back to his feet with a speed that belied his still-healing injury.

  Laine startled, and barely managed to get his sword into a position that would do the man some damage if he tried to move— or would at least make him think twice.

  But there was no need. They all three had only one thing on their minds— even as the other man managed one last croaking gasp. Red foam streamed from his mouth in an unending froth; the man collapsed in upon himself, his chest sinking and his eyes bugged out and staring.

  "Guides preserve us," his friend whispered, his hand at his nicked throat— and the other creeping toward his groin, where Laine's sword pointed.

  "I think it's too late for that," Ehren said. He shook his head, expression grim, and handed his knife pommel first to Laine. "Cut up his pants and tie him with the scraps. It'll slow him down at least."

  Hardly able to tear his eyes from the fading magic, Laine did as he was told. His captive no longer seemed interested in any kind of struggle— he lay on the floor, expression dulled and hopeless, while Laine divested him of his pants and cut them into long strips.

  Ehren ran his hands over the husk of the dead man in a quick but efficient search. He came up with two daggers and a small purse, and he took them all. When Laine was done, he repeated the process with the securely tied captive.