DragonKnight (17 page)

         
19
         

T
AKING
C
ARE OF
N
ECESSITIES

The four-poster bed where Holt had last been seen was empty. Bardon sighed his relief.

“I’m going down to the kitchen,” he said to N’Rae and Mistress Seeno. “I’ll get some food to take to Granny Kye and the children. I’ll also get those blankets to take back.”

Jue Seeno gestured for him to lean close so she could be heard. “You better take food for the women in the other cells, or Granny Kye will just give hers away.”

“Right!”

He bought blankets from the innkeeper and also a basket filled with cheese and bread, fruit and boiled eggs.

“That ruins my plans for breakfast, young man,” said the cook. She threw a couple of handfuls of flour into a large bowl, then doused it with a big splash of milk.

Bardon winked at her. “I have every confidence there will be a splendid repast on the table tomorrow morning.”

“You do talk fancy.” Without measuring, she used her fingertips to sprinkle salt over her concoction, then added sugar.

“Have you seen or heard of Holt Hoddack’s whereabouts, Cook?”

“Aye! He came down asking for a potion to settle his stomach.” She didn’t look up from her work, where she kneaded the mixture into a stiff dough. “Likely he needed something for his head, I’m thinking. I gave him water I’d boiled the vegetables in. Of course I added a generous tablespoon of vinegar and mixed it up good. He said it tasted nasty enough to do some good.”

“Did he say anything about finding a ship for us to book passage on?”

“He didn’t.” She turned her head to holler over her shoulder. “Bim and Toa, come help the squire carry this to the jail for the granny. Maybe you’ll earn a pip.”

Bardon smiled as the twin kitchen boys scrambled out from under a table against the back wall. No dirt ringed their necks. They smelled of soap. Only a spattering of freckles darkened their identical faces. They resembled the cook—clean, round, and cheerful. Green pants came down to midcalf. Brown shirts covered a tight-fitting undergarment of printed material. Their scruffy hair hung in their eyes, but it didn’t hide their eagerness to be off on an adventure an hour after they’d been ordered to bed.

The cook grinned. “They’re ten, sturdy and willing.” Her wide smile revealed her obvious pride in her boys. She waved them toward the supplies on her kitchen table. “You each grab a stack of those blankets, follow the squire, and mind you, do exactly as he tells you.”

“You’ll earn a pip apiece,” Bardon said. “One more thing, Cook. Do you know where the Hoddack fellow is now?”

“He refused a good meal and went out again. No good will come of that.” She smacked the dough with the palm of her hand, and her sons looked knowingly at each other.

Bardon tucked the rest of the blankets under one arm and grabbed the basket with the other hand. “Thanks again, Cook. I’ll have your boys back in an hour.”

She nodded and glanced at her sons. The look said they had better be a credit to her, and both boys nodded with understanding.

They went through the inn to the front. Bardon wanted a buggy to take them to the jail. If they were set upon by footpads in the night, he would be hard pressed to defend them all with his arms loaded down.

As they approached the vehicle, Bardon glanced at the southwestern sky. He could see the Wizards’ Plume above a housetop.

That’s not good. We’re running out of time. I could move so much faster if I didn’t have to take N’Rae and Granny Kye along. Of course, I would be making great time to an unknown destination. I’m not sure the granny knows where it is from all her tidbits of information she’s gathered. I don’t know if Bromptotterpindosset can get us there. From all appearances this is a wild-goose chase.

The boys’ excitement at riding in the horse-drawn vehicle amused him. So did their sober expressions as they watched the jailer’s ritual of retrieving the proper key. But amazement touched his heart as he watched them push the blankets through the bars and compassionately hand food to those in all three cells. They spoke softly to the children on the other side of the iron door.

Bardon placed a hand on each head and roughed their hair as they walked back up the stark corridor. He would be sure to tell Cook how graciously they did their task.

When he reported the incident, she beamed and scooted them back to bed.

She stood with her hands on her hips, a berry-stained wooden spoon poking out of one fist.

“They’re good boys,” she said. “Their father’s a sailor and gone too much, but I teach them the ways of Wulder, not like most in this province. And their father tells them the wonders of Wulder he’s seen all over the world. They know the truth, they do. They’ll be all right in this life.”

Bardon next reported to N’Rae that her grandmother was more comfortable. Then he sought his narrow room, his narrower bed, and a time of reflection. His thoughts became a long petition to Wulder to make right the chaos into which his life had fallen.

Gray clouds obscured the morning sun. N’Rae already waited at the bottom of the stairs when Bardon came down. She carried Jue Seeno’s basket on her arm.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“We have three appointments on our agenda today,” he answered, heading for the common room where breakfast would be served. “We must see to securing a place on a ship going north. We must find a reliable transport of my dispatch to Paladin. And we must free Granny Kye and the children from the jail.”

“The last one first, please.”

Bardon patted her shoulder and then turned her toward their breakfast. “Fortunately, all those problems may be solved by one man, if he is willing.”

“Who?”

“The harbormaster.”

“He can do all that?”

Bardon nodded and pointed to a table with two chairs. “Along the coast of Amara, the harbormasters wield great power.”

They sat, and Bardon handed N’Rae a basket of small, fragrant, sugary breads.

“I’m not hungry,” she protested.

“I am.”

“We must hurry.”

“We won’t be able to get anything done until the clock strikes nine and the business day commences.”

“If this harbormaster is so important, will he see us? We aren’t very important at all.”

“No, we aren’t. But Sir Dar is, and I’m his squire. Hopefully, that will open some doors for us.”

N’Rae picked at her food, but Bardon ate a hearty breakfast and told Bim, or maybe it was Toa, to tell his mother she had lived up to his expectations.

A light rain greeted them as they peered out the front door of the inn. Bardon sighed. “Well, we’ll take a carriage once again. I have walked less in this town than in any other I have ever visited.”

“Is that bad?”

“You get to know a town and its people better when you stroll through the streets.” He laughed.

“What?”

“Sir Dar loves to explore, and he has led me on many a merry chase in towns to the north of here. He is a hard one to keep up with.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Bardon stepped out from under the stoop’s awning and hailed a passing vehicle. He helped N’Rae negotiate a puddle and climb into the closed carriage.

“The office of the harbormaster,” he instructed the driver as he climbed in beside her.

“Is Sir Dar a friend?” she asked.

Bardon nodded. “And a mentor.”

“Is Greer a friend?”

“And a companion.”

“Am I a friend?”

He looked at her, trying to read her expression. “Yes.”

“And?”

“And…a pest!”

         
20
         

L
OST AND
F
OUND

“You can open that dispatch,” said Harbormaster Mayfil, “and add a dozen more deaths by quiss between here and the Southern Turn.” The tall, red-headed o’rant, with more weight on him than most men of his race, stood next to a row of windows in his office. Behind him, ships of all sizes could be seen moored at the piers, docking, and sailing in or out of the busy harbor.

Bardon felt N’Rae shift beside him and understood her impatience to get to the matter of Granny Kye. But the port official had his mind on the threat to his harbor. Of course, the captain of the
Morning Lady
reported the incident upriver and Squire Bardon’s part in slaying the beast. The crewmen spread the tale along the wharf. Bardon had not had to use Sir Dar’s name to get past the clerk outside the office of the most influential man in Ianna.

Harbormaster Mayfil listened to the three things Squire Bardon requested of him. He waved his hand in the air and said, “The
Tobit Grander
sails tomorrow. That’s the boat you need.”

About Granny Kye’s predicament he said, “Hmm? We’ll contact Magistrate Inkleen.”

But Mayfil sunk his teeth into the subject of quiss and would not let go.

After they stood for several minutes while the harbormaster fired questions at the squire, Bardon unobtrusively offered N’Rae a seat.

Either the man has no manners or he’s forgotten them in his fervor to discover all he can about the quiss.

With his hands behind his back and a glower on his face, Mayfil rocked back and forth, heel to toe. “My brother fought several quiss invasions in Trese. He was a military man, rose to full major lee. I heard many wild stories about the swarms of sea creatures walking on land in bands of a hundred to a thousand. He said they weren’t particularly hard to slay, but the sheer number caused problems. And when the battle went against the quiss, the beasts never turned and ran. They just kept coming.” The harbormaster shuddered.

Though truly interested in the man’s story, Bardon took the opportunity to steer the conversation back to where it would be useful to their immediate plans. “I would be glad to include your observations of quiss activity in this area in my report. Do you have the name of someone who will carry the document to Vendela?”

Mayfil stroked his chin. “There aren’t many pledged to Paladin in these regions. Not that they are disrespectful of the calling. We’re more interested in practical matters. But my brother was one to follow, and he has a grown son I can send with your papers.”

N’Rae surprised Bardon by speaking up. “You refer to your brother in the past tense, sir.”

“Yes, he died in a battle at Bartal Springs Lake. Risto’s bisonbeck army was defeated, but at a terrible cost.”

“Should the battle not have been fought, then?” asked N’Rae.

“There are many here who think not. But I had the advantage of hearing my brother’s firsthand accounts of the evil he encountered. He’d say that unless a wound is cleaned of the festering, rotted flesh, the whole body will sicken and die. My wife once objected and said the body was
their
body—she was talking about the Creemoor Province at the time—so it was
their
problem and not ours.”

He shook his head. “The look of sadness on my brother’s face when my wife said that stunned me. I did not know him as a man of much emotion. He had plenty of military bluster. He’d get heated up about his views of politics. Otherwise, his demeanor was cold, rigid, what you would expect from a military man. But that night he looked as though the sorrows of every man lost under his command weighed heavily on his heart. I thought he would agree with her out of his pain. But he said, ‘You are wrong, my dear. And you do not know Wulder’s heart.’”

Harbormaster Mayfil sighed deeply. His hands, hanging by his side, lifted briefly and fell again. “And now the infection comes to us to knock us out of our complacency.”

“We must send a message to Paladin,” Bardon said.

“We have ignored Paladin for centuries.” The powerful official sounded lost in his despair. “Why should he respond to our need?”

“Maybe you have forsaken Paladin,” said the squire, “but Wulder has not forgotten you.”

Mayfil sighed again and moved to his desk. He picked up a quill pen, pulled a piece of paper close, and bent to write. “We shall send the dispatch to Paladin and see what happens.” He straightened, folded his note in half, and went to the door. Mayfil spoke to his clerk for several moments and then returned to his desk.

“My nephew will come to pick up your papers, Squire Bardon. You may use my desk to add to your account while you wait. I’ll send in Gregger, the man I’ve had investigating the various reports. He can fill in the pertinent details.

“The purser from the
Tobit Grander
will come here to make arrangements for your passage. And if you will allow me to accompany your young friend, we will go visit the magistrate to see about freeing her grandmother.”

Three hours later, Harbormaster Mayfil returned alone. Bardon had just sent a sealed document off to Paladin, confident that it would be delivered within a week. He’d booked passage for four on the
Tobit Grander
over an hour before. The sense of satisfaction that resided in his thoughts slipped away when he saw Mayfil’s scowl.

“Something wrong?” Bardon asked.

“She wasn’t there.”

“Who wasn’t where?”

“Granny Kye was not in the jail. If Inkleen weren’t such a good friend, I would have been embarrassed beyond all measure. I call an important man away from his duties. We go to rescue a poor old woman and orphans from the jailhouse, only to discover when we arrive that there has been a jailbreak. Our old lady and street urchins have escaped.”

“How did she do it?”

“No witnesses.”

“No witnesses?” Bardon paused, and with an effort, he restored calm to his tone of voice. “Both cells on either side of her held numerous women.”

“They are not talking. Seemed to enjoy us looking like fools.” He waved a finger in the air. “I fired that lummox of a day jailer and left a message for the night man that he was fired too.”

“For allowing prisoners to escape? How do you know which one is at fault?”

Mayfil stomped around his desk and threw himself down in his chair. “No, not for that. I fired them for filth. Most disgusting civil office I’ve ever seen.”

Bardon frowned. “Where’s N’Rae?”

“She was most distraught. I took her to the inn. We thought her grandmother might have gone there. But she had not. A young man of your acquaintance, a fellow named Hoddack—I know of the father, a kindia trader—took over with N’Rae. They were going to search the marketplace.”

“The market?”

“The girl thought her grandmother would want nicer clothes for the children.”

Bardon nodded in a numbed state. “Yes, yes, she would.”

“I sent out a runner to the constable stations. They’ll be on the lookout for her.”

“She’ll be arrested again?”

“Well, yes, but I still think old Inkleen will let her out. He thought the whole fiasco was quite amusing.”

Bardon sank into the chair N’Rae had sat in earlier.

What is the logical course I should pursue? I don’t think there is a logical course.

The harbormaster cleared his throat. “Ahem. Isn’t there something you should be doing, Squire Bardon?”

“I should be miles to the north of here, on the back of a faithful dragon, on my way to right a wrong, pleasantly ensconced in the execution of a quest of noble purpose.”

Mayfil looked a bit confused. “I thought you might want to join the search for the fugitive granny and her accomplices.”

“Yes.” Bardon stood. “Thank you, Harbormaster Mayfil, for your cooperation. I’m sure your nephew will return with an answer from Paladin. We have our arrangements for our departure, and I appreciate your efforts to extract Granny Kye from her legal entanglements.”

“Yes, very well said.” Mayfil stood, put a hand on Bardon’s elbow, and guided his visitor toward the door. “I can tell you’ve been spending your time in those fancy higher courts in the north. Why don’t you find that girl’s grandmother so I can finish the job of having her exonerated?”

The harbormaster left the squire outside his office. Bardon stayed where he had been deposited.

What is the logical first step? To look where she was last seen.
Bardon started forward and stopped.
I have to find N’Rae.
He paused.
Logical. I have to find Granny Kye first.

Rain still sprinkled the streets when he emerged from the three-story office building onto the wharf. His nose caught the unfamiliar odors of the sea, brine and fish, sodden hemp ropes and sun-bleached sails.

He bolted across the wet wood planks and into the stone street. Traffic posed no problem as he made his way across a third of the city. Most people had enough sense to stay out of the rain. Bardon did not doubt that he would eventually find the old emerlindian drenched and happy.

She is almost always content, and she doesn’t have the sense to get out of the rain.

At the jailhouse, he found no jailer but two women cleaning the office. Without speaking to them, he went to the desk cabinet. An easy blow to the latch with the side of his hand opened the door. He took out a key and went to the door where the tumanhofer had kept the next set of keys.

He heard one scrubwoman speak to the other. “Do you think he should be doing that?”

“Don’t worry about it, dearie. Even soaking wet, you can tell that one’s important.”

“He does look somewhat like a prince, doesn’t he?”

“It’s the fine clothes. Maybe he is a prince.”

Bardon crossed the room with the large, rusted key ring in his hand. “A knight, ladies. I’m to be a knight, not a prince. And I’m only a squire now.” He entered the opening to the stairway.

“That explains it,” said one of the women. “A knight would have the right to be messing about with the keys, don’t you think?”

Bardon raced down the steps and didn’t hear an answer. Walking much more quickly than they had the night before, he reached the end of the underground passageway. He unlocked the last door and swung it open.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not bothering to keep the astonishment out of his voice.

“I was arrested, Bardon.” Granny Kye sat on the floor of her cell, combing a girl’s wet hair. “Surely you remember. You came last night and brought us food and these blankets.” She gestured at the folded piles. Three of the children sat on the small blanket towers. Two lay stretched out on the floor, playing a game with sticks and small stones. Bardon strode across the entryway and grasped the iron bars.

“You weren’t here. The harbormaster came to get you out, and”—he paused and spoke slowly, distinctly—“you were not here.”

“He came to get us out? How nice.”

Bardon sought to calm his voice, soften his voice, remove all vestige of emotion from his voice. Finally, he spoke. “Where were you?”

“Giving the children baths. Those nice women who were here yesterday were here again this morning. We all agreed the children needed washing. So we took them to the prison laundry room and bathed them all, including their clothing.” She went back to combing the urchin’s wet locks. “I think we should get them new garments, Bardon. Perhaps we can go to the market on the way back to the inn.”

Bardon dug his fingers into his hair and pulled. “N’Rae is at the market with Holt.”

“Those two really should be chaperoned, young Squire. Of that much, I agree with Jue Seeno. I don’t think Holt is a bad boy, but natural, healthy attraction does happen between young people. Perhaps you’d better go find them.”

“First I must go back to the harbor and disturb Mayfil once more on your behalf.”

Granny Kye merely nodded.

Bardon ground his teeth. “Do you think you could stay here long enough for me to get you out of here?”

She tilted her head. “Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” he answered. “I want to get you legitimately released so you won’t be arrested again for breaking out of jail.”