Six Heirs (12 page)

“There, to the left, shoot!” the warrior yelled, practically in his ear.

Yan pivoted while drawing the bow, searched for his target, and thinking he found it, released the arrow. The bowstring scraped the length of his inner arm while the arrow slid comically straight to the ground. He feverishly darted his gaze here and there among the bushes, not seeing anything.

On the other hand, he clearly felt a strong whack on his noggin from Grigán.

“You’ve never touched a bow in your life, have you? Just try to tell me otherwise!”

Yan straightened, angry and upset. He felt his face redden like a lubilee fruit, all the more upset at being so easy to read.

“You’re crazy! You scared me! That was dangerous, you know. I could have killed someone!”

“It isn’t dangerous if you know how to handle your weapon,” argued the warrior, unruffled. “You shouldn’t have lied to me.”

Grigán’s calm tone and logical argument melted Yan’s anger like snow in the sun. But not his shame. He felt like a small child caught lying to his mother.

“I would much rather like to know where we actually stand. If we really had needed to defend ourselves, it would have been dangerous for you, for me, and the others.”

“All right, all right. I admit I was wrong.”

“Good. I consider the conversation finished. Now, let’s see what can be done with you.”

He went to retrieve the arrow and explained in a few sentences the proper archer’s position and followed it up with a practical demonstration. Yan listened attentively, then shot again at the warrior’s request.

The result was satisfactory: the arrow flew straight, without the string burning his arm.

“Good. That’s it. Now all you need to do is learn to aim, and for that, I’m of no use to you.”

“I’m going to train so diligently you won’t even have to worry about drawing your bow,” Yan joked, displaying his eagerness.

They returned to their little makeshift camp. Yan still felt somewhat foolish and ashamed, but his trust in Grigán had
grown. In the end, the aloof warrior had only one concern: to keep them out of harm’s way.

Léti shouted violently at them upon their return.

“You were gone quite a while! What happened?”

“Nothing, everything’s fine.”

The warrior had no wish to waste time with unnecessary explanations.

“Grigán showed me how to draw a bow. It’s more difficult than I thought, but it’s not too bad once you’ve got the hang of it.”

“Glad to hear it. I hope you have fun with your man’s toy.”

She left him standing there.

Yan was dumbfounded. He had gotten into arguments with Léti before, but up until then he always knew why. What had gotten into her?

Perhaps she was angry because he had taken an interest in a weapon? An object made to kill. That must be it; she scorned men because they only had a mind for destroying one another.

No, that didn’t add up. Earlier, she was the one who suggested Grigán rid them of the rider without further ado.

He went to go after her, to talk, but decided against it. What could he tell her? When she was in this state, all attempts at reconciliation were useless. It was best to wait for things to settle down. Léti was still in emotional shock from the recent events, and she wasn’t thinking clearly.

He could only hope that she would get over it as soon as possible.

“Rey! Hey, Rey, is tha’ you? Rey!”

Reyan muttered one of his vilest curses. Now that he had successfully gotten out of Lorelia without causing a stir, now that he had followed the entire length of the Gisland River all the way to Pont, now that he had almost left the kingdom with complete discretion, now some idiot screamed his name at the top of his lungs in the middle of the street.

Reyan waved discreetly and went to meet him. Since someone had already spotted him, best to avoid drawing more attention to himself by reacting strangely, like feigning deafness or running away.

It really bothered him that he was recognized so easily. He had spent a fair amount of time conceiving an inconspicuous disguise, using all his actor’s talents to choose clothing that made him appear older, taller, and less Lorelien. Well, it’s true he hadn’t gone all the way and used makeup, no hairpiece or shading could hold for the whole trip. He would do better next time.

He was happy enough to be able to take these old rags. When he awoke Barle, three nights earlier, Reyan was scared for a moment that his troupe leader would finish the job started by the Zü. But after a long critique on the good-for-nothing troublemakers, the entertainers, the jokers, the revelers, whom Barle had sworn he would never allow to join his caravan, all of this in a voice much louder than usual, Barle had agreed to help the young actor. He had given him clothing, food, and without Reyan even asking—he hadn’t yet been paid—a full purse filled with gold terces, under the sole condition that he return one day to perform with them and, of course, to reimburse him.

Barle and the rest of the troupe immediately began packing up and headed for Partacle, hoping to lure Reyan’s potential—even likely—pursuers.

But all these efforts would be fruitless if he got himself caught thanks to some moron who kept wildly waving his arms at him. What was his name again? Tiric? Iryc? Rey hurried over to him.

“Do you really need to yell my name in the street like that? I’m not deaf,” he said, trying to hide his anger.

“Ye’ need to lay low, eh? I git ya.”

Rey stared at him without saying anything. The man was visibly very satisfied with the impression he made. He offered Rey a mocking smile, revealing a set of yellowish, rotten teeth. His clothes were filthy, his hair dirty, and his breath suggested a weakness for cheap wine, drunk by the goblet.

How did he know him again? Rey remembered drinking with him and a few other drunkards, but couldn’t remember on which occasion—meaning in which pub—he had met him the first time. If he were being honest, Rey knew hundreds of names and thousands of faces just like his. What did this one do for a living again?

The hideous man waddled back and forth, looking ridiculous but very sure of himself, hands in his pockets.

“Old chum, I don’ know wha’ you did, but you’re definitely most sought after ’round here,” he continued. “The Guild’s offerin’ two hundred terces for ye’ head. But ye’ knew tha’ already, didn’ ye’?”

The Guild. That meant he really was done for. If the Züu were ready to hire the services of organized crime to find him, he really had to leave the kingdom as soon as possible. He wouldn’t be safe anywhere in Lorelia.

“Darlane had even said tha’ if we didn’ find ye’ before Safrost’s men, there’d be some blood between the gangs. The guys are whisperin’ that Darlane’s so scared to botch this
contract that he’s even ready to say to hell with the Grand Guild agreements. Old chum, there’re some people who want ye’ dead, that’s for sure.”

Salfrost? Rey had heard of him before. Wasn’t he the alleged chief of the Goranese Guild?

“But really, don’ worry, we’re friends, like brothers. It’s not me who’ll drop ye’, even fer all tha’ gold. Ye’ know me.”

Not that well, actually. I hardly know you at all, rat face. You work for the Guild.

Rey glanced around. It didn’t seem as though someone were going to sneak up behind him to stab him in the back. Still, best not to try his luck much longer.

“Well, you understand I must leave you now. Thanks for the information. Maybe we’ll see each other again someday,” Reyan said, hoping to rid himself of Iryc.

“Wait! Maybe I can ’elp ye’. Tell me where ye’re goin’, I’ll tell ’em you went the other way.”

“I’m going to Romine. Try to send them toward Goran. And if you really want to do me a favor...”

He grabbed a dozen terces from his bag.

“It would be really helpful if you could buy me a horse and a little food. Now that I know all this, I can’t allow myself to be spotted. All you have to do is bring everything to me at the Pont Inn, you know where that is? I’ll be waiting for you there, tonight.”

Iryc smiled from ear to ear, pocketing the money.

“I’m good for it. See ye’ t’night.”

“That’s right, see you tonight.”

They separated and Rey went down an alley, quickly split down another one, then yet another. He stopped around the corner and waited for a good while, dagger in hand, muscles
tense. But no one had followed him. The terces earned the brute’s trust.

There’s no way he would be at that inn tonight. If Iryc pocketed the money and kept quiet, all the better. If he came through for the meeting, well, then he would have earned himself a horse. And if he were a dirty traitor, his bosses would make him pay for his stupidity in their own way.

No matter what happened, Rey needed to devise a new plan: there was no longer any point in trying to lay low, no matter where he was. The Züu and the Grand Guild combined, that made far too many enemies for him alone.

He had to find the other heirs.

He got on the road to Berce that same day.

“We must not be far from Jerval. We’ll have to take some precautionary measures.”

Yan regarded the warrior from the Lower Kingdoms curiously. If Grigán wanted to take precautions, that could only mean major changes to the small group’s ride, which until then had been uneventful.

“What’s Jerval like? A big city?”

“Not really, no. It’s quite the opposite, actually, compared to the royal Lorelien cities. But we’d better not take any chances.”

“We need a fourth horse,” Corenn reminded them. “I think it would be a mistake to go around the village.”

“I absolutely agree, especially since the detour would cause a useless delay.”

“So, what do you have in mind?”

“We’re going to separate. Temporarily, of course,” added the warrior, noting his companions’ surprised looks.

“Well, what do you have in mind?”

“You, Lady Corenn, along with your niece, will go through the village first. I will follow you, one hundred yards behind. Don’t go too quickly, I don’t want to lose sight of you. Pass through town without making it look as though you’re in a hurry, simple as that. Answer if you are spoken to, but don’t strike up any conversations.”

“And me? What do I do?” asked Yan.

“You’ll give your horse to Léti. Wait until we’re out of sight, then follow us into town on foot and buy another horse. If things turn sour for us, clear out immediately. Otherwise, everything should be fine, since the Züu don’t know who you are.”

“I could be wrong, but if the goal of all this scheming is to pass by unnoticed, it won’t work. When a rider goes through our village, he can act however he likes, but everyone will still stare him down regardless. He’d be the only topic of conversation that day.”

“Not in Jerval. It’s the first little town in Lorelia after crossing the Kaulien border. Riders go through daily, like the one we saw earlier, for example. After all, Bénélia is only a day’s ride away; the villagers aren’t going to raise their heads every time someone passes through.”

“What should we do if we’re attacked?” asked Léti, challengingly.

“Gallop on without turning back. I’ll catch up to you after taking care of the suicidal maniacs who dared to put me in a bad mood. Clear?”

Léti didn’t answer. Yes, it was clear, Grigán didn’t allow his orders to be questioned.

The warrior gave some terces to Yan.

“You’re from a farm not far away. You’ve only come to buy a horse for your father and you must return immediately and be back before nightfall. Barter a little, to mislead them, but don’t take more than a deciday.”

“How much does a horse usually sell for?”

“Seven or eight silver terces, in general. Agree to nine and your man will have no problem believing you’re a stupid farm boy. You think you’ll be able to play the role?” added the warrior, ironically.

Yan looked up and stared at him, a little miffed. By Eurydis! Grigán was grinning! So he could be a little human on occasion.

Yan smiled back. The joke was a bit harsh, but the warrior was making an effort for once.

“Buy something to eat too,” Corenn requested. “Cheese, bread, some meat. A proper meal will do us good.”

“All right.”