Myrren's Gift (32 page)

“So I hear. I guess I have the touch.”

She remained silent.

“Knave, now you go and find Fynch. Take him to Briavel. Keep him safe.” He knelt down now and looked up into the large dog’s eyes. “Watch over her for me, boy.” Wyl felt odd talking to the beast with such confidence, yet he felt strangely certain that the dog understood. The animal seemed to be as touched by enchantment as he was himself.

The animal lingered just long enough for Ylena to touch his great head affectionately and then he loped off into the dark, presumably to catch up with Fynch.

“Do you think he misses Wyl?” she asked in her faraway voice.

No point in answering. “Ylena. about your husband.” Wyl said gently. “Where would you like us to lay him to rest?”

She did not hesitate in her reply. “He must go home, Romen, to Felrawthy in the north. His family must know of this outrage. The Duke will respond as he sees fit.” Unlike his sister, Wyl did hesitate. He knew it would be unwise to incite an uprising of the nobility right now. There were too many unknowns. Who would replace Celimus? Would the nobles support such treachery—and why should they trust Romen Koreldy? And he had still to convince himself that, when it came to it, he could betray the Crown to which he had sworn unswerving allegiance. He returned his thoughts to Ylena. “Will you allow me to take him to his home?”

“You would do this for me?”

“Surely. You have suffered enough.”

She considered his offer. “I would appreciate it but I will need you to tell the Duke and his family that I will travel to Felrawthy as soon as I can.” Her voice turned hard.

“We will mourn together and then we will make plans to make Celimus pay.” Wyl left it alone, as much as he wanted to caution her. “Good. Now, about Argorn.”

“Yes?”

“I would prefer if you don’t return immediately.” Wyl counseled, expecting a harsh reaction.

It was not forthcoming. She spoke calmly. “Celimus will follow…is that your suspicion?” He nodded, impressed that she was, in spite of her weak and still addled state, able to follow the train of his thought. “Once we’re discovered gone I cannot imagine he will just shrug his shoulders. Our sneaking out of Stoneheart will confirm that Romen Koreldy is a traitor to him. We can easily argue that you were forced to come with me but your life means nothing to him. Yes, I think he might follow the obvious trail to Argorn but it’s my intention that it will be a cold one.”

“Where then do you suggest?”

Once again Wyl was grateful for the glimpses of Romen’s memory that remained. “There’s a little-known monastery at Rittylworth.”

“Ah, yes, I recall you mentioned it to Jorn.”

“Hmm, I wish I hadn’t, to tell the truth. The fewer people who know the better.”

“For how long would I remain there?” Ylena asked evenly. Wyl was proud of her composure.

“Long enough for your recall of recent events to dim, little one,” he said.

She looked up at him strangely.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

Ylena shook her head as though clearing it of a bad thought. “Yes… well, no. That was Wyl’s pet name for me. He always called me Tittle one.‘” She smiled sadly. “After our father died I used to climb into Wyl’s bed and he’d hug me tight and tell me not to cry. And then he’d spin me great tales of how I would be the most beautiful maiden in all of Stoneheart, with one of its towers all to myself.” Ylena choked back a quiet sob.

Wyl wanted to bite his own tongue out. “The monks will be ever kind to you at Rittylworth, I promise,” he said, not that he could know this for sure. All he could pull from Romen’s mind was the name of the monastery—none of its inhabitants, though—so it was surprising this was where he felt inclined to flee.

Fortunately he knew how to find Rittylworth itself. “Four to five moons perhaps and then we can bring you to Argorn. By then I will have organized proper protection for you as well,” he added.

“Your plan is wise, Romen. I will do as you suggest, thank you.” He breathed out with relief.

“And you?” she said, unexpectedly. “Where will you go?”

“Back to Briavel. There is unfinished business there but first I must find a seer.” Ylena actually laughed. “Why?”

“Oh; just call me superstitious. We all are in my family.” he lied.

Ylena managed to make such good distance through the night that they reached Farnswyth in the early hours of the next day. They took a room at its least expensive inn in order to remain as anonymous as possible in the relatively small village. Wyl realized that Romen had been a man who could fit into most situations—as comfortable around royalty as he was simple folk—when he took so easily to swapping ribald jests with a pedlar who was treating himself to a night in a bed at the Ship Inn. It was not an especially clean establishment but Ylena did not make comment. She moved swiftly up to their airless room and threw open the small window; her only request was for fresh water in the jug.

They slept for several hours and. after eating heartily of a surprisingly delicious lamb and potato stew.

Ylena returned upstairs to rest again while Wyl headed out to buy horses. His choice was limited but he was not looking for quality animals. Right now he needed two serviceable nags who would get them to Rittylworth. He stocked up on food and water too, explaining to Ylena when he returned to the inn that he had no intention of risking being seen between this village and Rittylworth. This was usually a three-day ride but probably twice that if they did indeed go across country.

“This is where I intend that our trail will go cold.” he told Ylena. “I can’t be sure that tongues will not wag in this place if they are threatened with a pair of pincers.” he added grimly. “We are not so forgettable.

I’m afraid.”

Ylena made no protest and Wyl felt once again proud of his sister as she resolutely climbed upon her dun-colored horse and followed his lead.

Wyl knew he was looking for something, a landmark of some kind, and hoped his sense of Romen was leading him correctly. Several hours’ brisk trotting from Farnswyth he found a well-concealed path. It was little more than a deer track but he instinctively knew this was what he had been searching for. Once they were shielded by the undergrowth, he stopped the horses and returned to the main road. Using a thin branch of leaves, he deliberately moved back a hundred paces or so. sweeping away their prints.

Whatever new hoofprints came down that road would now predictably continue on to the next major town of Renkyn and lead any followers astray, while they would now swing northwest. He even took the precaution of bending a pair of saplings in front of the tiny pathway. It would not fool an experienced tracker but in poor light it was a reasonably effective concealment.

As it turned out they spent six uneventful and tranquil days traveling mostly across country, avoiding humanity as much as possible. It was a blessing for Ylena. who was not easily reemerging from the darkness of her mind into the sunlight of Morgravia’s spring. She certainly smiled more often and conversations lengthened but then Wyl knew how much she used to smile and talk. The old Ylena had been lost on that terrible day of blood and death. They ate sparingly but well, supplementing their supplies with whatever nuts and wild fruits they could gather.

Wyl realized one late afternoon that Romen was in fact as deadly with a knife as he had been warned when the mercenary was alive. He found the knife in the bottom of their sack and once again thanked the lucky stars that had guided Jorn to them. A rabbit was soon roasting over their campfire after a swift and accurate flick of the blade.

On the seventh afternoon Wyl trusted what was left to him of Romen and reemerged onto a road. This was not so frequently used as the road to Renkyn but he felt instantly familiar with it. They followed it for another four miles or so and as they crested a small hill they looked down into a picturesque valley in which nestled a series of squat stone buildings set some distance apart from what appeared to be a village. Ylena squinted to get a better look at the small houses dotted here and there.

“That’s Rittylworth,” he said, relieved.

“It is a serene place,” Ylena admitted.

“Somewhere for you to enjoy some peace, my lady.”

She nodded and they moved on. Monks busy tending the gardens around the monastery straightened their backs from their toil. Someone waved and one. they noticed, yelled something and then disappeared into the building. He returned dragging an older man, and a broad smile stretched across Romen’s face.

“Someone you know?” Ylena asked.

“Er…yes,” Wyl replied, confused. Romen obviously knew and liked this man but he could not dig the old monk’s name from his host’s memory.

The monk grinned back, clearly pleased when they walked their horses into the compound. “I knew you would return one day. Romen Koreldy.”

Romen jumped down and the men embraced. “It’s good to be back,” he said carefully.

“Brother Jakub promised we’d not seen the last of you. Romen.” a breathless young man said.

Jakub
! Wyl thought, silently thanking the enthusiastic young monk for giving him the name he sought.

“Jakub. I want you to meet someone very precious to me.” He helped Ylena down from her horse. “This is the Lady Ylena Thirsk of Argorn.” Wyl deliberately said nothing of her being Lady Donal just yet.

Ylena either did not notice or she trusted him to make whatever decisions were required.

“Welcome, my lady,” Brother Jakub said, bowing along with all the other monks.

Ylena curtsied. “Thank you, brothers.”

The young monk who had first spotted them offered to take their horses. “I see they haven’t shaved your pate yet then,” Wyl said, desperately trying to uncover names and why these people were special to Romen. It was of no use. Romen’s memory was too clouded now.

“Not long now,” the young man grinned. “I’m counting the days.”

“Pil will be ordained in four months. He deserves it,” Jakub said gently with an indulgent smile that Wyl seemed to recognize.

“Come, let us offer you some refreshment,” Jakub said, taking Ylena’s arm.

“I think what my lady would appreciate most of all is a bath,” Romen suggested.

“Of course!” Jakub looked chastened that he hadn’t thought of that when they clearly had dust on their faces from days on the road. He introduced Ylena to a young lad, asking that she follow him and assuring her of privacy. “We will freshen your traveling clothes, my lady, and then perhaps later you may care to join us for a hearty meal.”

Ylena could not help herself. She kissed the older man’s cheek and her thanks were sincere.

Wyl grinned at her. “Enjoy. See you very soon, little one.”

“Thank you for this. Romen…for all that you’ve done.” She kissed him too and Wyl had to stop himself from hugging her back.

Ylena left with the eager Pil trailing her and the youngster, and Wyl turned to Jakub. “I need your help.” was all he said. Directness was best here, he figured.

“I suspected as much. Come, let’s walk.”

Wyl found himself guided to a beautiful herb garden arranged in concentric circles with a sundial at its heart. As he and Jakub settled themselves on a bench beneath a huge old lemon tree, a tray with a jug and mugs was delivered. Its bearer left without a word.

“Our latest vintage is superb, Romen. See for yourself,” Jakub said, handing Wyl a cup.

They drank in companionable silence for a few moments and Wyl appreciated not only the delicious wine but the chance to gather his thoughts, although his nerves were on edge. He prayed to Shar to guide him now. What was left of Romen’s recall was yielding little to him of this place, except its intense familiarity.

“She has the look of one who has suffered terribly,” Jakub finally said.

He heard Romen sigh. “Too much and too recently.” Wyl admitted.

“At whose hands?”

“At his majesty’s pleasure. The new King.”

“I see. And how are you involved with him?”

“A long story. Jakub. Suffice to say if we meet again, we’ll be holding blades at each other’s throats.”

“Ah. And how is the Lady Ylena involved in this intrigue?”

“She is the sister of someone who begged me to help her as he died. He is a man I respected.” The family name of Ylena suddenly fell into place in Jakub’s mind.

“This is the sister of Wyl Thirsk?” He spoke with some awe.

Wyl nodded sadly. “Fergys Thirsk would turn in his grave if he knew of what she has suffered at the hands of the Morgravian Crown.”

“And you can’t tell me more?”

Wyl decided to trust the old monk. “Only that we carry a sack and in it is the head of Ylena’s recent husband. Captain Alyd Donal.”

“Of Felrawthy?” he said, eyes wide.

Again Wyl nodded. “I need you to keep it for me. Have it preserved. One day I’ll come back and claim it…do the right thing. You must never reveal to Ylena that the head is still here. She believes I’m taking it directly to his ancestral home. I can’t, of course—the Duke would immediately rise up. I cannot risk that…not yet.”

“Romen, what has occurred?” Jakub whispered.

Wyl felt suddenly guilty for bringing his troubles to this peaceful place. Already he had told Jakub enough to incriminate him should Celimus trace them to Rittylworth. He hoped he had covered their tracks well enough. “Murder, deceit, betrayal. Celimus will throw Morgravia into perilous times. He chases the crown of Briavel. and pays lip service to marriage with Queen Valentyna. but a toad has more sincerity than this newly crowned King.” Wyl stopped for fear of saying too much.

“And you and Ylena?”

Wyl looked at Jakub, surprised, and then he understood. “Friends only. My bond is with the brother.”

“A brother and sister. Are you seeking redemption, Romen?”

“No!” Wyl said, far too abruptly, wondering at his own vehemence and what was couched in Jakub’s words.

“You protest too strongly. There is no shame in it, my son. Shar will bless you for it.” Wyl was too confused to pursue this conversation that suggested secrets from Romen’s past. He should find out more but in trying he might also reveal himself to be an impostor. It was too dangerous. “I gave a blood promise. Jakub. She is in mortal danger.”