The Wayfarer King (3 page)

Then Gavin remembered the map his pal Domach had given him showing the location of a farmhouse outside of Calsojourn. That map would still be in his bag. He snapped his fingers. “I might know where he is. I’ll be right back.” He went out to the stable behind the inn. Golam, outside in the corral eating hay, looked up and nickered. “How now, mule. Eat up. We’re going for a ride in a bit.” He went to the tack room and found his saddle and saddlebag.

The stable boy peeked around the corner. “Help you, m’lord?”

Gavin dug into the bag, searching by feel. His fingers found the paper and pulled it out. “No, I found it.” He jogged back inside and handed the map to Edan. “Have the Sisterhood send a scout to this farmhouse to see if he’s there. Chances are good they’ll find him, then they can send a couple dozen battlers and kill him.”

Daia rejoined them at the table and poured herself a glass of wine from the carafe. “If you didn’t have enough to worry about, Galiveth told me Hennah’s missing. That’s the second guard to vanish.”

Gavin scowled. “Missing?” Apprehension made him shift in his seat.

“Gali was on guard with Hennah and said she went to piss. When she got back, Hennah was gone. Gali’s been calling, but there’s no sign of her.”

Pressure started building in his temples again. “Seven hells!” He didn’t want to believe that one of his defenders would simply walk off her post and abandon him. He needed every one of them, and the Viragon Sisterhood had too few to spare to replace her, especially since he had no funds to pay them. “Think maybe they went back to Sohan?”

“No, they wouldn’t have done that.”

“Who’s the second?” Edan asked.

“Tennara. During the night, she disappeared after a beyonder fight. Nobody knows what happened to her except that she survived. Ragetha saw her slay the last one, but Tennara never returned to the inn afterward.”

With the beyonder attacks becoming more frequent, Gavin wondered whether the rift could have opened and pulled the swordswomen into the beyonders’ realm. Barring that, he could think of only one other possibility. “Ravenkind?”

She shook her head. “Gali didn’t notice anyone suspicious. I put Taria on duty with her. Both know Ravenkind on sight.”

“Maybe some o’the townsfolk saw what happened.”

“I’ve sent a few battlers out to search for Hennah and ask around. I’ll let you know the second they return with news. Meanwhile, I’ll have Dona come with us to Saliria.”

Gavin chewed his right thumbnail. Could someone have abducted Tennara and Hennah? Maybe they saw something suspicious and went in pursuit. He picked up his sword and stood. “I’m going to look for them myself.”

“I told you I have people searching. Relax, Gavin. We’ll find them.”

With a deep sigh, he sat back down, but he couldn’t relax. The muscles in his shoulders felt tense. With everything he had to worry about, he sure as hell didn’t need this too.

Chapter 4

Feanna Vetrin moved five-year-old Tansa to her left hip and took the quill the lordover’s chancellor offered. When she looked at the paper, it blurred. She blinked and quickly wiped away the tears that dribbled down her cheek. This wasn’t a compromise. It was a robbery. She lowered her quivering hand to sign and stopped.

“Couldn’t you give me one more month?” she asked. “I’ve posted an advertisement for my new business on the community board in Saliria, and I’ve already received one client.” That she hadn’t the heart to ask the grief-stricken man for money after delivering the news about his son’s death was a detail better left unsaid. “More will—”

“I’m sorry, my lady,” the chancellor said. His black, bushy eyebrows over beady, golden eyes made him look predatory. “His Excellency has already extended your deadline twice because of the kindness you show to the orphans.” Both looked at Tansa, who hid her face in the beige cloth of Feanna’s dress. Iriel and Trevick watched and listened quietly from the great room. “You don’t have the means to work the land anyway. It’s for the best.”

The farm had been willed to her husband then left to her upon his death last year. If she sold the wheat field, yes, it would pay the overdue taxes, but in a few months, she’d be back in the same situation with no wheat field left to sell. If she had to sell the property, it might be best to sell the entire thing, rather than piece by piece. She looked around at the cramped, four-room house where she’d lived since marrying Henrik seven years ago. It wasn’t luxurious, but it was clean, it was warm in winter, and it was home. Then where would she go? With three children to care for, it wouldn’t be long before even that money ran out and she found herself — and the children — living in the gutter. Perhaps soon she would have a few paying clients.

“Your monthly tax burden without the wheat field would be much more manageable,” the chancellor reminded her. He peered down his hawkish nose at her and tapped the paper, urging her to sign.

Feanna set Tansa on the chair and sat on the stool beside her. She tried to read the paper once more, but the words ran together in her mind numbed with sorrow, worry and the feeling of powerlessness. She was only giving up the wheat field, nothing more. She hadn’t sown a crop this year because harvesting last year had nearly killed her. Trevick had been only eleven. Between them, they hadn’t the strength or endurance to get the entire crop cut, baled and threshed. She’d spent part of last year’s income on Henrik’s burial and hadn’t enough money left to hire labor. With a sigh, she dipped the quill into the ink pot and signed her name.

“Very well,” he said. He wrote out a receipt and laid it on the dining table. “Your overdue tax debt is paid, and the next tax collection will be in three weeks. Good day.”

She saw him to the door and watched the footman help him climb into his shiny black carriage, then take his position on the rear step. The driver pulled away, steered the four-horse team to the main road and back toward Saliria.

“Are we going to lose the farm?” Trevick asked.

Feanna closed the door and went to sit beside him on the worn, gray sofa. She lifted Tansa onto her lap and put her arm around Trevick’s shoulder. “Now, don’t you worry about that. I’ll have clients soon, and all will be well. You’ll see.”

“I could work as a torcher in Saliria,” Trevick said. “I’m old enough.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Let’s see how my business does first.”

“Could I?” Iriel asked hopefully. Her smile was lopsided, with one incisor missing and the other half grown in. “I’m almost nine.”

Feanna’s heart ached. The children worked hard around the house as it was. That they would be so willing to take on extra work both touched her and troubled her. “When you’re twelve, we’ll talk, hm? Let’s get supper started, shall we?”

She kissed Trevick’s forehead before he could squirm away, set Tansa down, and went to the kitchen. She opened the cold box and noted the ice was nearly melted. “We’ll need to go to town tomorrow for a new block of ice.”

Someone knocked at the door, startling them all. Living outside of Saliria in a small farming community, they didn’t often receive visitors. If it were Liera Kinshield or one of her boys, they’d have called out already. “Who’s calling?” she asked.

“Sorry for disturbing you, m’lady. I’m Adro Fiendsbane.”

The name was unfamiliar. Perhaps he was a new customer, someone in need of her special skill. Someone looking for a lost loved one. His name definitely sounded like an epithet, though. Feanna hoped it wasn’t another battler come to drop his bastard child off with her, hoping she would relieve him of his fatherly burden. Whatever would move a man to do such a thing was incomprehensible, but she’d already turned away two of them this year. After the day she’d had, Feanna wasn’t sure she could be tactful. She went to the door and opened it, prepared for the worst.

A battler stood on the stoop, holding in his arms a girl who appeared about four years old. Her blond hair and brown eyes matched those of the swordsman, and she clung to him, trembling. He wore a brown shirt, whose long sleeves were out of place in the warm spring afternoon. His long hair flowed across his shoulders. Around his neck hung a leather thong, disappearing into his tunic, suggesting a warrant tag hung ready to display on request. “Good evening. I’m Adro, and this is Jilly. Are you Feanna Vetrin?”

Feanna sighed. She knew it. If the child hadn’t been in his arms, she would have filled his ears with thorns. The poor thing must have felt so unwanted, faced with being abandoned to a stranger by her father. “If you’re thinking to leave your daughter here while you gallivant across the countryside without a care in the world, you’re mistaken.” She
shifted
and put a hand on the soft skin of Jilly’s arm.

Feanna was overcome with profound sadness. Lost and terribly alone, she felt the world had ended, yet she went on, unloved and unwanted. The pain in her chest was crushing. She gasped and yanked her hand back, unable to stop the sobs that burst from her. Tears spilled from her eyes.

“My lady!” Adro said, reaching to steady her. “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

She held up a finger as she hid her face and concentrated on dissipating the flood of emotion that had taken her by surprise. What devastating loss had this poor child suffered? Feanna took a corner of her apron and dabbed at her eyes, gathering her wits and flushing the child’s pain from her mind before finally turning back to face her visitors. “She isn’t your daughter, is she?”

“No, m’lady,” Adro said. “Jilly’s parents hired me to accompany them from Sohan to Tern, but we were overrun by beyonders on the way. Sadly, her parents were both slain. Jilly has no family left, and she doesn’t know of any aunts or uncles. A buck like me wouldn’t make a suitable father for a little girl. The Lordover Saliria said you might be able to help.”

The Lordover Saliria who had just taken her wheat field sent another orphan to her? What a bastard. Feanna pressed her lips together and ran a gentle hand across Jilly’s back, careful not to
shift b
efore touching her. “Jilly, I’m sorry about your parents.” Looking into those soulful brown eyes, Feanna knew she couldn’t turn the child away. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. Other children have gone through a similar loss, and some of them live here with me. You’re welcome to stay here too.” She held out her hands, inviting Jilly to come to her.

Jilly lifted her head from Adro’s shoulder. Her eyes were glassy, her expression numb. She held her arms out limply. Feanna took the girl from her guardian and held her close. Jilly laid her cheek against Feanna’s shoulder.

“Has she any belongings? Clothes, shoes or toys?”

Adro bent his head. “The bags got scattered and torn apart in the fighting. Didn’t think to collect any of it. I could ride back to the site, try to retrieve some stuff for her.”

“That would be very helpful, Adro. Thank you. May I offer you something to eat?” Feanna didn’t have the time or inclination to entertain at the moment, but to feed the man who’d saved this child was the least she could do.

“Thank you, m’lady, but I’ve asked enough of you for one day.” He extended his hand, and Feanna shook it. Shifting, she felt his shame over failing to protect his charges. She also felt his attraction to her, a feeling she didn’t often experience. Although she felt lonely from time to time and wished for the romance her marriage hadn’t given her, she had more important concerns now: the children.

“I’ll ride out and try to gather some of her belongings.”

“There’s no rush,” Feanna said. “I can find something for her to wear in the meantime. Be careful, Adro.”

He smiled. Twin dimples gave him a charming, boyish appearance that was at odds with the otherwise roughened visage. “Yes, m’lady. I will.” He ran a hand over Jilly’s hair, and his smile disappeared. “Sorry, sweetheart. Miss Feanna will take good care of you.” With a bow, Adro bid them good-bye and left.

Feanna went into the house and closed the door quietly.

She sat with Jilly on the sofa, cuddling her close. She
shifted
and laid her hand on Jilly’s leg. Despite the pain, she wanted to keep tabs on what the girl was feeling. If Jilly became overwhelmed, Feanna would send the other children to their room while her newest orphan grew accustomed to her new surroundings.

Iriel put her hand on Jilly’s head. “My mama and papa were killed by beyonders too,” she said quietly. “I’m going to be a Viragon Sister when I grow up. Then I’m going to find the rest of the beyonders and slay them so this never happens to children again.”

Jilly lifted her head and looked at Iriel. Through her contact, Feanna felt hope like sunshine peeking through the dark clouds of a terrible storm. Then Jilly settled back against Feanna’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

That first night, Feanna poured each of the children a small cup of milk as they gathered in the kitchen. “Have you said your prayers?” she asked.

The girls nodded dutifully, but Trevick said nothing. He tossed his milk back and wiped his mouth.

“Trevick?” Feanna prompted.

“I don’t believe in Asti-nayas,” he said. “I’m not going to pretend to pray anymore.”

Feanna touched him gently,
shifting,
and confirmed what she suspected. His confidence had waned, and he only needed reassurance. “Darling, I love you, no matter what you believe. You don’t need to pray if you don’t want to. I’ll think of you as my son either way.” She kissed his temple, hoping she’d eased some of his fears of abandonment that surfaced now and then. “Tansa, how about you?”