The Vlakan King (Book 3) (8 page)

"Davan, you must do this," said Jaele. "I will stay here with Tera and Aravan in case Ian comes back."

"Me? I've never gone more than a day's walk from Peradon. Where do I go? Do we know where the Talos Company is? Uncle Loric's stories always said they wandered around the world. If I find them, why would they believe me?"

"They do wander," said Brevin. "Loric Greyrawk is one of the Talos Company. But some have homes that they return to now and again. I know where a few of them live. I think Blackthorne would be the most likely choice as he travels infrequently with the company."

"Blackthorne the sorcerer?" asked Davan.

"I didn't meet him," said Jaele. "But I heard he is unpleasant."

"That is true," said Brevin. "But he could also contact the others quickly. You will need Kerreth's involvement for the Talos Company to help. They will follow his lead without question. Blackthorne is your first step. I would strongly recommend it."

"Where does he live?" asked Davan.

"Calendia," said Brevin. "And that is where I am heading. You could travel with me. I am ready to leave immediately."

Jaele nodded her head. "I'll pack the things you will need." She stood up. Davan grabbed her hand.

"Mom, I'm not ready to leave home."

"And I'm not ready for you to leave either, but the choice is not ours. You must take some large steps Davan. You must find Kerreth and find your father to cure him. I don't know what else to do."

"Your choices are wise," said Brevin. "Trust me."

Sneppe left the back door where he had heard their discussion. He walked back to his camp where his soldiers waited for him. Sneppe was burly man, scarred and prematurely aged. The camp was two hundred yards into the woods behind the inn. His men watched him approach but gave him no acknowledgment of rank; they had been together too long in too many difficult situations.

"Dogbitter!"

"Yeah sergeant?" Corporal Dogbitter stood a head taller than Sneppe, wiry with cold blue eyes.

"Davan is heading west with Tarbin."

"Do we go with him?"

"No. We are still needed here. There might be more Vlakan hunting for them. The inn must be protected. Polesnap and Docaw. You follow Tarbin's wagon. He'll know you are there so no need to show yourselves. Try not to alarm Davan. Loric told him the Talos Company was protecting him but did not tell him about us."

"Sergeant, I'm getting tired of this forest," said Pappa. "How much longer until we are relieved?"

"Two weeks until Leto's squad arrives, but if more trouble comes we will remain longer."

"I understand that, I just wanted a notion."

"Who's on patrol now?"

"Gileas and Linal," said Dogbitter. "They are taking opposite directions around the town."

"Good. I want someone watching that back door to the inn at all times. The lower loading door can be seen at the same time. I was able to walk right into the inn and no one noticed. We can't have another Vlakan get through. Is that understood? The Talos Company does not fail."

"Yes sergeant," said Dogbitter. "We would have caught the last one if Loric hadn't been here. He just moves too fast for us to keep up."

"Yes, Gileas had seen the Vlakan first; Loric just outran her."

"Just be sure we don't need Loric next time, because he isn't here. We have to stop the Vlakan assassins. Keep alert. I'm taking a nap."

"We'll try not to wake you Sarge," said Pappa. "We'll kill the Vlakan quietly."

"Good. See that you do."

The kingdom of Masina on the continent of Amloth was a jewel to behold. There lived more artisans in that kingdom than all Landermass combined and each artist worked with a passion not found in other kingdoms such as its neighbor Eslenda. On Anavar there were flourishes of culture now and again in Calendia, but not much in Wierland or Curesia. For their part, the Daerlan of Liannest kept to song and gardens in their creative efforts and the Tuors were very primitive in their arts and songs except for the fabled Culver of Paglo, a poet of no small renown. The Anetheans were sculptors, Zidar fine craftsmen in wood, but it was the Masinans who drew all branches of art to its culture despite its distant location on Amloth.

From Gerrand's Histories of Landermass.

King Kalen Omer of Masina kept up the traditions of his late father and each year was filled with festivals and workshops for all to learn the crafts. The principal cities of Dael and Danole displayed buildings of the latest styles, ornate and labored over by the teams of artisans that seemed to be everywhere. On the mornings leading up to the Festival of Verra, King Kal sat on an outside throne watching a metal Wight coaxing his strips of metal into an elaborate gate for the King's garden. Often he dozed in his chair and his subjects indulged their king. He fast approached his seventieth year and his mind resisted the dulling of time. His interest in all things of his kingdom, down to the dirt drawings of the smallest child kept him keen and youthful. Still, naps were a king's prerogative, especially one as beloved as King Kal.

For the next fortnight the Festival of Verra would occupy the minds of the Masinans. Artists and musicians from all Masina and the nearby kingdoms of Eslenda, Cresida and some from Nuneland and even Liannest, the Daerlan home journeyed to the city of Dael for the festival. King Kalen had long since ceded the organization of the festival to one of his ministers but he loved to partake in the judging of the various contests.

When the weather was mild the king would walk the boulevard with guards in tow, stopping and examining items at every booth. He wore brown trousers, black boots and a bright blue tunic. He always wore the same colors and on his head was a silver circ holding back his grey hair. His beard and moustache were closely trimmed and King Kalen was fit for a man of his age, but he was less steady in his gait than only a few years ago. If it rained he was carried in a litter and stopped at the displays that caught his eye. And oh did his eyes twinkle during the festival. Other than his granddaughter only the festival could infuse him with energy and drive to be doing things. With his granddaughter he walked around the town, worked in his garden and regaled her with stories of the horrible Turuck war. His wife forbade him from telling those tales to his children and grandchildren but she had passed on, rest her soul, and his granddaughter heard every story in great detail.

The king provided many awards and none was coveted more than his patronage for the coming year that he would provide for the top ten award winners. Few things delighted the king more than the delight of the recipients of his largesse.

Of course there were winners who were rude and ungrateful. King Kalen did not make an issue of it publicly but after the time of patronage ended he would have no more to do with them. The best stalls for the next festival would be denied them and they lost any future chance at the King's patronage.

A great cheer rose from the northern part of the city. King Kalen knew it was the arrival of King Henry Islen of Eslenda, his old friend. They had first met during the Turuck invasion of Amloth forty years earlier and became close allies afterward. Both had lost their fathers during that time and Kalen looked up to the older man. Henry also lost his wife and grown son in the battles and dedicated the remainder of his life to being a fair and just ruler to bring Eslenda to its potential. Henry never took another wife and lately named his sister's grandson as his heir. Kalen found himself a bit jealous of Hal at times because Hal didn't show the same infirmities of age despite being nearly two decades older. Hal walked straight and steady plus he could hold out a sword and his hands wouldn't shake. No, Hal was a different creature.

King Kalen stood on the lower steps of the keep when the company from Eslenda reached their destination. King Henry extracted himself from the wagon and strode forward to greet Kalen. The Eslendian king stood well over six feet tall and his shoulders remained broad, showing little of the droop from age. He towered over his friend. They hugged.

"Welcome, my friend," said Kalen. "It has been too long."

"Yes, it has. Thank you for your welcome. I am looking forward to the festival. The change of scenery will do me good. Let me present my sister's grandchildren, my heir Jahnn Cane and his twin sister, Merie Cane."

The two teenagers stepped forward together and bowed to King Kalen. They were tall and Jahnn only slightly taller than his sister. While Jahnn was flaxen haired and fair, Merie was dark with flowing black hair. They bore a slight resemblance to King Henry until they smiled and then the family connection was strong.

"Pleased to meet you," said Kalen. "My own granddaughter Krysta is somewhere organizing the artists. I'm sure we shall see her soon enough. Let us go to the hall and have some refreshments. We can discuss the schedule for the festival. I would be pleased if you could award some of the honors."

"I'd be delighted," said King Hal. "I feel ready for some festivities. I hadn't felt well in the past month but now I am ready for anything."

Princess Krysta watched the man heat the glass until it softened and glowed from the heat. She had spent much of the day watching Master Raeind Arayr work the glass. The heat from his fire kept most of the curious from staying too long but Krysta did not mind it and silently observed the movement of the artist. Ornate glassware bordered his booth and a small boy handled any transactions. The boy was busy because the glass was unusual and popular in Masina. Raeind Arayr's reputation was renowned and he hadn't been in Dael for three years. The city was abuzz with the news of his return.

Krysta first spotted him setting up his booth two days ago and spent most of her time since watching him work. He was a slender man near to middle age with a wiry strength in his hands and forearms. Sweat glistened on him and he worked steady. She never spoke to him and he did not seem to notice her and thus they passed the days. She was barely five feet tall with auburn curls cascading to her waist. She never wore the long dresses preferred by the women of the court. She often wore a long tunic over trousers and leather calf boots. Krysta sat on the bench near his booth. People passing her greeted her and she often responded with a smile, but her gaze did not leave the glassmaker for long.

A woman with a soldier escort came up behind Krysta and curtseyed.

"Pardon me, Princess Krysta," said the woman.

"Yes, Certina?" She did not turn her head away from Raeind Arayr.

"King Kalen requests your attendance at lunch. King Henry has arrived."

"Oh good. Thank you Certina." Krysta turned away from the booth and walked back toward the great hall. After a moment, Raeind Arayr looked up and watched the princess until she was out of sight.

Krysta entered the room with the two kings seated next to each other and a young man and woman sat across from them. Guards stood near each king with the colors of their house identifying them. She noticed Laretes, King Kalen's Captain of the Guard watching his Eslendian counterpart closely. Her grandfather waved her over.

"Krysta! Come and welcome our guests. King Henry of Eslenda, Prince Jahnn and Princess Merie, allow me to present Princess Krysta. Krysta please sit between the Prince and Princess."

The teenagers ate quietly while their grandfathers talked.

"Have you been to Masina before?" asked Krysta.

"No," said Jahnn. "We've been kept close to home. It was a wonder that we were able to come on this trip."

"Grandfather commanded our father to let us go. We're the closest to grandfather in lineage so if anything happened to us it might mean civil war."

"But Prince Richard's your father, correct? Wouldn't he be next in line?"

"Normally he would," said Jahnn. "Father's mother is sister to King Hal. But Grandfather Cane opposed Hal for king after old King Henry died. King Hal made Richard's children his heirs, but not Richard."

"Whew! Glad there's just me," said Krysta.

"Yes, but you will have to marry someday and the nobles will have a say in that," said Jahnn. "You will fulfill your duty to your kingdom."

"Great. Now I'm not hungry anymore."

"Oh, don't listen to Jahnn," said Merie. "He's so gloomy. It wouldn't kill you to smile once in a while."

"I smile," said Jahnn with a grimace.

"Oh, was that a smile?" asked Krysta.

"Krysta," said King Kalen. "Be polite to the guests."

Krysta rolled her eyes and Merie giggled. Jahnn grimaced.

The kings took a walk through the artist's booths after lunch and King Hal greeted the Eslendian artists warmly and made note of their names. The royal teenagers followed and Krysta pointed out a great many items of interest. After a while she led her charges down a different path and to the glassblower's booth. Raeind Arayr did not look up or acknowledge their presence. They watched him in silence for a few minutes. When it became apparent that Krysta was in no hurry to leave, Merie walked a few paces away.

"Will there be many musicians?" asked Merie.

"She always chases the singers," said Jahnn.

"I do not." She punched her brother.

"There are a fair number of them," said Krysta. "They usually show up around evening when the real drinking begins. So many artists drink a lot of wine. Masina probably sells a quarter of the annual production of wine during the festival. The Serbetan Red is my favorite although King Kal tries to keep me on the straight and narrow."

"How old are you Krysta?" asked Merie.

"I'm eighteen."

"We're sixteen," said Merie. "I didn't think you were older."

"You are tall for a woman," said Krysta. She turned to Jahnn. "And you have your grandfather's height."

"Well, I will be king," said Jahnn.

"Ah, and that will help?"

"Well, I will be respected."

"And I won't be respected when I am queen?" asked Krysta. "Hmm, I'll have to do something about that."

"Oh, he didn't mean…"

"I'll handle this Merie," said Jahnn. "Princess, a king has more power and responsibility than a mere queen."