The Wayfarer King (8 page)

Those blazing blue eyes bore into him. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? Get out of my office, ’ranter.” He pointed at the door. When Gavin failed to move, Celónd motioned to Jophet. “Throw that cocky bastard out.”

Jophet stepped forward to obey. Gavin raised a hand, knowing he could change the course of this encounter with two words, but they would not come. Whether it was fear of publicly accepting his role as king or something else, he didn’t know. He only knew that when he opened his mouth to say
it’s me,
his throat closed around the words and would not let go.

Edan shook his finger at the lordover. “We won’t forget this.” He spun on his heel and stormed out.

Gavin drew a rectangular piece of wood from his coin pouch and tossed it onto Celónd’s desk. “I took that from the corpse of a criminal. You might want to look into who’s forging your warrant tags.”

Jophet’s eyes flew wide, but he wasn’t looking at the fake warrant tag. He was looking over Gavin’s left shoulder at the hilt of Aldras Gar. Before Jophet could question him about it, Gavin followed Edan out.

As they stalked across the courtyard, Gavin wondered whether Jophet recognized the gems. More importantly, he wondered how they were going to get Daia out now that they’d fouled her father’s mood.

“Can you believe his arrogance?” Edan asked. “No wonder Daia can’t stand him. Why didn’t you tell him? That would’ve shut him up. Ha!”

“Just didn’t seem like the right time.” Gavin needed a seal of some kind to give his messages an official look until the time was right to reveal his identity. He remembered then that King Arek had given his signet ring to Ronor Kinshield. If Gavin found it, he could press it into a wax seal. Maybe the curator at the Gwanry Museum had it or knew where it was.

“Gavin,” Jophet called from behind. “A moment please.” Gavin stopped and waited while Jophet caught up. Edan continued on, muttering to himself as he stomped angrily to where their horses waited. Jophet’s gray eyes darted to Aldras Gar. “That’s quite a sword.”

“Yeh,” Gavin said. “It’s a beauty, ain’t it?” He figured it was only a matter of time before people started commenting on it. A battler would notice it straight away. “Crafted by a Farthan blacksmith in Ambryce.”

“Listen, I know the lordover can be difficult. I’ll work on him, but I need to ask you one thing.” Jophet met Gavin’s eyes steadily, the way a man would when trying to judge another for honesty. “Are those gems from the rune tablet?”

“They are,” Gavin admitted. “This sword belongs to the king.”

Jophet glanced at Edan. “Why do you carry it?”

Damn.
Gavin didn’t want to tell Jophet the truth, but he refused to lie. Evasion was his best option. “You wouldn’t ask if you’d seen my old sword,” he said with a derisive snort. “So can you help us get Daia out or not?”

Jophet looked again at Edan. “I don’t want to lose my job. Not until I can secure one in the king’s service. Could you, ah, put in a favorable word for me?”

“I’ll make sure he knows you helped us.”

“I think maybe he already does,” Jophet said. He stepped to the side to give Gavin a direct line of sight to the gaol over Jophet’s shoulder. “Look to the right of the building. See the tall hedge? Within the hedge is an entrance to the gaol. It’s locked, but I’ll send the gaol warden to empty the chamber pots. Wait around the corner — you’ll be out of sight there — and go in once he’s passed. Then come through the ward to the front office and get the keys.”

Gavin relaxed his gaze and examined the hazy glow that surrounded the lordover’s captain. Seeing the hazes around people was the first of King Arek’s magical abilities he’d learned after deciphering the first of the five king’s runes. He was still figuring out what the colors and patterns meant, but he learned more every day. He saw no indication of ill intent in Jophet’s haze.

In a loud tone, Jophet said, “Now get going before I arrest you for loitering,” and headed toward the gaol.

Near the horses, Edan was watching the two battlers’ exchange with a curious expression. “What was that about?” he asked as Gavin approached.

Gavin gave Golam a pat. “Edan, I need you to make sure Daia’s horse is ready to ride and Dona and Nasharla are mounted. We’re going to be in a hurry.”

“Gavin,” Edan said in a suspicious tone. “What are you going to do?”

“It looks like she has an ally in the captain.”

Chapter 11

Gavin waited in the hedge as Jophet instructed, with his back against the white stone wall. Soon the door around the corner rattled and creaked open, and a guard placed a brick in the doorway to prop it open. He scurried past, carrying a pair of stinky buckets. Gavin slipped inside and kicked the brick away to let the door swing shut behind him.

The room he entered was dim, filled with buckets, mops, rags and sponges. Beyond the opposite door was a hallway with stone floors and a high ceiling. Metal doors lined both sides of the hall, each with a small window. “Daia?” he called as he peered into each cell. “You in here?”

“Here!” she called. A hand stuck out a cell door opening a few paces ahead, and he went to it. “Gavin. Thank Yrys you’re here.”

“Don’t thank Yrys,” he said. “Thank your friend Jophet.”

“How did you convince my father to release me?”

“I didn’t. Now I need the key. Wait here.” He chuckled as he started toward the door at the far end of the hallway.

“My lord,” someone called. Another hand poked through a cell opening.

He paused and looked in. “Tennara?”

“Yeh, and Hennah’s here too. The lordover’s arresting all women carrying swords in the city. He’ll have your whole guard in here by the week’s end.”

“Damn him. Awright, I’ll take care of it.” The occupants got noisier as he continued up the hallway, men begging to be let out.

Gavin eased the door open and peeked inside the room. Jophet stood at the window with one finger hooking the curtain, looking out. He was alone. Gavin pushed the door open and went in. “Awright, where’s the key?”

Jophet gave him a wicked grin. He held the key ring out, dangling on his index finger. “Come and get it,” he said, his tone like a dare.

Gavin eyed him warily. “What’s this about? I don’t want to fight you.”

Jophet grabbed a chair and broke it over the desk. It exploded into splinters and chunks of wood. Gavin shielded his face with an arm and muttered a curse. Jophet handed Gavin a chair leg. “Hit me with this.”

“You’re jesting,” Gavin said.

“The lordover’s no dunce. Hit me.”

Gavin took the makeshift club but made no move to strike the other battler with it. “Jophet...”

“Hit me, damn it. Make it look real. Knock me unconscious.”

Gavin understood Jophet’s thinking, but the idea of beating an unarmed man unconscious didn’t sit well with him, no matter the circumstances.

Jophet picked up another chair leg and whacked Gavin hard on the arm.

“Ow!”

When Jophet raised his club to strike again, Gavin blocked the blow with his chair leg then hit Jophet at the base of the neck.

“Harder,” Jophet said. “Hit me here.” He pointed to his temple.

Gavin hated this, but he knew it was for Jophet’s sake and Daia’s. If she was going to get out of gaol anytime soon, it would have to be because someone helped her escape, and Jophet would find himself in gaol if anyone found out he’d aided her. He hit Jophet on the side of the head.

The captain staggered and blinked. “Damn. That won’t work. My wife always says I’m hard headed. Guess she’s right.” He took a pewter tankard from the desk and tossed its brown liquid contents onto the wall. “Use this.”

Gavin took it, feeling its solid weight in his hand. “But I might kill you with this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jophet turned his back to Gavin.

“I can’t hit you from behind.”

Jophet sighed. “Just do it. Make it good.”

Gavin swung the tankard and struck the crown of Jophet’s head. He felt the blow absorbed by the man’s skull, and saw blood soak his hair.
Shit!
The key ring fell from Jophet’s hand. The man swayed on his feet for a moment then hit his cheek on the edge of the desk as he went down. Blood gushed everywhere.

“Oh, hell! Sorry,” Gavin said. He squatted beside the fallen man and put a hand on his shoulder. Instantly he felt the heat rise to his hand and the healing power flow into Jophet but only enough to stop the bleeding.

Gavin grabbed the key ring and peeked out the window. No one was in sight. He wondered if he should heal Jophet the rest of the way before he left. If Jophet was found with scars instead of cuts, he would be accused of mischief. Gavin didn’t want to leave him there with a mortal wound. He squatted beside Jophet’s still form and lifted his head out of the blood to inspect the wounds. They were closed but not scabbed. Jophet moaned and stirred.

Good enough. Gavin picked up the weapons lying on the desk, assuming they belonged to the Sisters, before closing the door behind him.

Prisoners beckoned to him as he strode down the corridor, keys in hand. Men stuck their hands through the windows of their cell doors, begging him to stop and free them, claiming they were innocent of any wrongdoing.

“What do you know? It’s Gavin Kinshield,” one prisoner said. “Let me out and I won’t tell nobody you were here.”

Gavin walked on without responding. The lordover would probably suspect him anyway.

“Come on, Kinshield,” the man shouted after him. “I’m bound to get out an audience with the chancellor sooner or later. You don’t want me tellin’ him the lordover’s own captain helped her escape, do you? I heard you talkin’ in there.”

“Yeah, and if he don’t tell,” said another, “I will.”

Gavin reached Daia’s cell and met her eyes through the window in the door. He could see by her angry expression that she’d heard the man’s threat. He tried a dozen keys in the lock before he found the one that fit. The lock clicked and he swung the door open.

“My thanks, Gavin. What was all the commotion in there?” Daia asked, jerking her chin toward the front office.

“Jophet was in there. I had to take care of him.”

She blanched. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

He shot her an impatient look as he headed back up the corridor to release Tennara and Hennah. “I only have one horse,” he said. “I didn’t expect two more riders.”

“Don’t worry about us, my liege,” Tennara said. “We’ll be fine. You two go on.”

Daia rode double behind Gavin on Golam’s back as they galloped to the inn. Edan had her horse ready with a leather satchel strapped to the saddle. As she changed horses, he held her mare steady.

“Listen, Edan, if the lordover tries to make trouble, use my name if you have to. Tell him if he arrests any more o’my guards—”

The sounds of shouting and hoof beats against the stone street drew near. They were coming.

“I got it,” Edan said, giving Golam a slap on the rump. “Go.”

Gavin heeled Golam, and he and Daia headed down the valley and southeast toward Saliria, followed by his two guards.

Chapter 12

Outside the farmhouse, Red was sharpening his sword or whatever battlers did in their idle time. Inside, Brodas opened the cellar hatch, and peered into the blackness below, curious about what antique treasures Tyr might have been hoarding. He lighted the candle and descended the rickety ladder. With each step, the dry, old rungs creaked and groaned, threatening to crack under his weight. Finally at the bottom, and glad of the solid ground beneath his feet, he held the candle in front of him to look around, waving his free arm to tear away the cobwebs tickling his face.

The cellar was empty except for three warped shelves against one wall, stacked with bricks as supports. Various sizes of dust-covered glass jars filled with powders and roots were neatly arranged on the top two shelves. On the bottom was an odd assortment of wooden sticks and feathers tied to them, a jar holding a handful of gems, and a stack of loose papers containing faded drawings and notes. A small leather pouch with a drawstring closure sat on the middle shelf behind a jar of something black and crusty. When he lifted it, it jingled with coin. Nilmarion gold coins, Brodas discovered. At least thirty of them, worth a great deal of money.
Well, well, you sly devil.