The Wayfarer King (18 page)

“Let’s have it,” Gavin said, holding his hand out for the tome.

Laemyr clutched it to his chest. “This book means a great deal to me. It’s the culmination of years of research. Please understand I cannot simply give it to you. I could have a scribe copy it, though it may take a few weeks’ time.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand.” Daia stepped forward, intending to intimidate him. “This book could provide the king the information he needs to end the beyonder invasion. The fate of the entire world rests with King Gavin. He has the greatest burden of any person since King Arek himself. Are you saying you would obstruct his work because you’re fond of a book?”

“Well, ah, no, not exactly. Of course not. No, that’s absurd,” Laemyr said. He thrust the book into Gavin’s arms. “Take it with my blessing. Anything else you need, please ask me first. If I don’t have it, I’ll try to get it for you.”

“I need you to swear an oath,” Gavin said. He handed the book to Daia. It was bound in stiff leather, and each page was carefully trimmed to the exact dimensions of the one before it. She couldn’t help but respect the time and care that had gone into making it.

Laemyr ducked his head in a semblance of a bow. “Yes, my liege. I swear I will try—”

“Kneel before the king when swearing an oath,” Daia said. Gavin shot her an annoyed look, and she tried to hide a grin.

The curator dropped to his knees.

“Laemyr Surraent, swear you won’t speak my name to anyone for any reason until I give you leave to do so. You won’t talk about this book or our conversation to anyone. Not even Tolia.”

“On my honor, on my life, I swear to obey.”

Gavin motioned him to rise. Laemyr stood with his gaze fixed on the book. “You will take care of the encyclopaedia?”

Gavin snorted. “I trust her with my life. You can trust her with your book.”

Once they were outside and unhitching their horses, Gavin gestured to the book. “How about you start reading that while I go see the Stronghammers? It’ll save some time.”

Her protective instinct warned her not to leave him alone, even for such a trivial task, but what harm could come to him in Ambryce that he couldn’t handle alone? “All right. Meet me at the Princess Inn when you’re finished. I’ll get us a room there, and we can talk about what I discover.”

Gavin smiled and wagged his eyebrows. “A room? I like the sound o’that.”

Daia laughed. “I’m sleeping on the floor, and you’re not. Give the Stronghammers my regards.”

“Will do.” He mounted and rode away.

She climbed onto Calie’s back and rode to the inn, where she then paid for their best room. After giving her horse to the stable boy, she took the book, her bedroll, and her small pack to the room. It was smaller than the rooms at the Elegance Inn, and the bed too short to accommodate Gavin’s height, but he was probably used to that. She opened the shutters covering the unglazed window and looked out into the street below. Ambryce wasn’t the cleanest city, nor the most affluent, but the sounds of merchants bartering, songs of bards and the clanking of a blacksmith’s hammer were proof that it was a thriving community. A dog ran past with something in its mouth, and a merchant ran after it, shouting for someone to stop the mangy mongrel.

Laemyr’s book in hand, Daia sat on a stool beside the window to take advantage of the afternoon sunlight, and began to read.

Chapter 24

By the time Gavin arrived at the inn, with the last two gems embedded into the hilt of his sword and a new signet ring still warm in his pocket, the sun had set, and the inn patrons gathered at tables in the dining hall. The scent of pork and garlic made Gavin’s stomach rumble with hunger, though Arlet Stronghammer had fed him while he waited for Risan to finish in the foundry. He suspected Daia hadn’t eaten yet, and he begged for some scraps from the innkeeper’s wife.

“Have a seat there at the table and I’ll fetch you a plate,” she said.

“Bring two. I’m with a friend.” He returned to the lobby where the innkeeper was counting coins. “Which room is the swordswoman sleeping in?” he asked.

“As if I’d tell you that,” the innkeeper said. “She didn’t look like the type to seek the company of a ’rant— a warrant knight.”

“You ain’t considering all my charms.” Gavin leaned both elbows on the bar and grinned. “Care to wager she’ll share a table with me?”

“A kion says you come back with a bloody nose.”

Gavin dug a kion out of his pocket and slapped it on the bar.

The innkeeper matched it. “Room five.”

Gavin sauntered upstairs to the room with the number five painted on the door. Daia answered his knock quickly. “What took you so long? I’m starving.”

“Innkeeper’s wife is warming something up. Come on.”

Daia grabbed Laemyr’s book and followed him downstairs. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeh.”

When they walked into the lobby, the innkeeper looked at him in shock and awe. Then his expression turned sly. “You played me.”

“And well,” Gavin said. He picked up the two kions, tossed one back to the innkeeper and winked before following Daia into the dining hall. His bootsteps on the gray slate floor echoed against the white-painted brick walls. His eye was drawn to the fireplace, whose bricks were left their natural red color. Though no fire blazed now, the blackened bricks along the top of the opening told stories of warmth offered to shivering travelers seeking refuge from cold winter nights.

The other dining patrons stopped talking to watch as Gavin ducked his head to avoid the low beams in the ceiling and led the way to a table. He chose one far enough from the others to have a private conversation. The bench groaned under his weight as he sat.

“Let me see it,” she said.

He took the sword off his back and angled the hilt toward her. The previously empty eye socket on one of the snakes was now filled with the King’s Blood-stone, the last gem from the Rune Tablet. Although the sword’s enchantment worried him, he couldn’t help but admire Risan’s workmanship. It was more than a fine weapon; it was a work of art. The blade was crafted of some unusual alloy which gave it the appearance of snake scales. In sunlight, all colors of the rainbow danced on its surface. The hilt itself was pewter, with two snakes intertwined. Three Farthan symbols etched into one side of the blade below the hilt gave it a unique signature. There was no other weapon like it in the world.

“Where’s the blue gem?”

“It looked unbalanced in the snake’s tail, so I had him take it back out. I’ll find a use for it.”

“Well, the sword is beautiful beyond words,” she said. “How’s Risan faring?”

“He’s getting along well. Luckily he’s a lefthander, so his maimed right hand doesn’t affect his livelihood much. Dwaeth is adjusting to life with his new parents, and Arlet’s as happy as she can be with a new son to dote on. They do like to talk, though. I could barely get away.”

“I’m glad they’re well. I’ll bet it’s a relief to have the King’s Blood-stone safely embedded into your sword. There’s no chance you’ll lose it now.”

“Yeh, but the sword already has a mind of its own,” Gavin said. “I’m almost afeared to use it now, with the King’s Blood-stone in it. Maybe I could just point at my enemy and command it to attack as if it were a dog.”

Daia snorted a laugh.

He nodded toward the book. “What’ve you learned so far?”

“Well,” Daia started eagerly, “it starts off describing the realms that King Arek wrote of in various letters. Apparently there’s one similar to our own, whose people tend toward lawlessness and debauchery rather than order and morality. Then there’s the realm of beyonders, where that demon Ritol was summoned from, and one that’s the opposite, filled with beings that are angelic in comparison. Arek surmised that the realms comprise a larger system of order balanced with chaos. There’s also one called the midrealm where order and chaos balance each other — it has no opposite. He discovered that his magic didn’t always work in these places, or at least it didn’t work as he expected. The challenge for him, every time he journeyed, was finding a vortex through which to return.”

As Gavin listened, his mind spun. It was far more complicated than he’d expected. He had no real understanding of the magic he possessed, and the thought of using it to move from one realm to the next without knowing where he was going or how he would get back terrified him. “How the hell am I s’posed to know what to do? I barely know how to use magic here. Now you tell me it works different in other realms?”

Daia smiled and patted his arm. “That’s why you have me.”

“How am I s’posed to find you in another realm?”

“How do you find me now?”

“I don’t know!” The anxiety knotting his muscles came through in his sharp tone. “Sorry.” He rubbed his brow. “The magic just... happens. Sometimes when I’m fighting, I see sparks or flames, but I don’t know how I’m doing it. I don’t have control of it.”

“We’ll talk to the mage tomorrow. I think she’ll be able to help us.”

“What does the book say about finding the vortex?”

“That’s just it, Gavin. This book doesn’t give any detailed instructions. Listen to this.” She wiped the grease off her hands and opened the book, flipping a few pages. She began to read aloud. “King Arek wrote that he used his mystical eye to locate swirls in the air like the wind from a storm that spins fallen leaves. Each had a unique quality he could only describe as a color. He stepped into it, entering a world similar to ours in its landscape but inhabited by strange beings. One such world was populated only with the things we’ve come to call beyonders, every one murderous.”

“How did he get back?”

Daia flipped a few pages, scanning quickly. “Maybe he did the same thing on the other side. Here it says he focused on the gems.” She picked up another pork rib and began to gnaw on the meat.

Gavin did likewise. “What’s that mean?”

Careful not to get grease on the book, Daia held the rib away while she read. “It was essential for the king to have gems of infinite clarity when he journeyed to the other realms. To return, his ability to find the vortexes required him to focus his magic through the gems.”

“That’s it!” Gavin said, pounding the table with his fist for emphasis. Heads turned toward him and conversations quieted. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “That’s what Ravenkind did. That’s why he wanted my sword.”

“Yes, but you have it now. We’ll defeat him easily next time.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

Daia kept her gaze on her food while she ate. “You’re getting better about the ain’ts, but your eating habits haven’t changed.”

Gavin wiped the grease off his chin with the sleeve of his right arm. “I don’t have a handkerchief.”

“It’s not only that, Gavin. The smacking. The talking with your mouth full. The chewing with your mouth open. These habits aren’t very kingly. It’s a wonder you didn’t scare off Miss Feanna with your foul manners.”

He felt his frustration turn hot. “I got enough crap to worry about without you criticizing everything I do. I’m sorry you aren’t getting the nobleman you wanted on the throne.”

She shook her finger at him. “That’s not fair, and you know it. I’ve been behind you from the beginning. I pledged my life to you. I’m only trying to help you step into the role.”

“No, you’re trying to make life easier for yourself.”

“Not life, just meals. You’re a pig, and watching you eat turns my stomach.” Immediately, Daia’s eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear lord. I’m so sorry. That was unacceptably rude. Pig or not, you’re still my king.”

Gavin burst out laughing. Before he could put up a hand to cover his mouth, bits of partially chewed meat sprayed across the table. A few specks landed on her forearms. One stuck to her cheek.

“Ugh! That’s disgusting.” She used her handkerchief to brush the bits of food off herself.

“I’m sorry,” he tried to say, but he couldn’t stop laughing long enough to form the words. A combination of frustration, anxiety and the absurdity of her apology threatened to send him into the abyss of madness. He covered his face with his hands and laughed for a minute longer. At last, with his stomach muscles aching, he looked up. The bit of meat still clinging to her cheek renewed his guffaws once more. He reached out weakly to brush it away. She slapped at his hand then used her cloth to wipe her face.

“Pig, I tell you,” she said with a smile.

For the fun of it, he let out a snort with his laughter, which was enough to get Daia laughing too.

Chapter 25