By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles) (34 page)

The floor was a mixture of sawdust and fish bones, and it crunched under his booted feet as he and the goblin headed toward the bar. There was a one-eyed woman behind it, idly wiping a cup with a dirty rag. The patch over her left eye didn’t hide the jagged scar that ran from the center of her forehead to the edge of her left earlobe. There was no one else in the bar.

She fixed her gaze appraisingly on Lian, moving her eye slowly up and down his form. He flushed uncomfortably as her singular stare lingered just below his belt. She spared the goblin a glance, and then dismissed him. “What’ll it be, lord?” she asked in a hoarse voice, as if she had been shouting.

Lian observed muscle rippling under her shirt, and that her hands were heavily calloused. “Ale for both of us. Have any fish that ain’t salted to hell?” he asked, managing to keep his tone deep and to recover a little of his poise.

She nodded and grabbed a pair of clay pots from under the bar, drawing ale from the pierced barrel. When she turned back with the ale, Lian nodded toward the axe. “That happen recently?” he asked. It was a safe guess, since there was neither a puddle of ale on the floor behind the bar nor stains from it.

“One of the boys on the
Searcher
got a little rowdy last night and had to buy himself a whole keg of ale,” she said. “Then his captain locked him up on board for breakin’ the peace. The sheriff weren’t too pleased.”

Lian grinned as he drank from his cup. “I can guess,” he said after a long pull. The ale tasted bad enough that the prince suspected he knew why the sailor had thrown his axe. “You got anything better than this pig piss?” he asked gruffly, pushing the pot back toward the barkeep. Snog ignored the comment, apparently savoring his ale.

“Sure I do,” she said, smiling at him. She had all her teeth, and they were straight and even. She had a rough beauty, and an easy manner that Lian found somehow intriguing. She continued, “But it’ll cost ye in coin I ain’t seen yet.”

He slapped down a rough copper coin. It vanished immediately and she drew him another cup from a different, smaller keg. This was a much better ale, although still not in the same league as those Lian had known at home. He sipped it more cautiously and then smiled. “That’ll cover the fish for the both of us, of course,” he said, knowing that it was an excellent price for some ale and a meal.

She nodded agreement and said, “Give me a bit for the fish, lord. Ye can have yer choice o’ tables, like.”

“A question, barkeep?” he asked before she turned toward the kitchens.

She looked back at him with the eyebrow of her right eye arched. “Aye?”

“Why aren’t you out fishing, if I may ask?” he asked, keeping his tone level and flat.

“That’d be ‘cause I own this place, lord. I also help out the sheriff now and again,” she replied, crossing her beefy arms as if she dared him to make a quip about anything she said.

Her attitude agreed with what he knew of the town, and Lian decided that she was a native. Still, he asked, “You are from here, then?”

“And what of it?” she demanded, wondering where the mercenary before her was headed. Given the weapons he and the goblin were carrying, she knew that he could be serious trouble, even with the loaded crossbow she had under the bar. After all, she’d only be able to fire at one of them.

He reached into his pouch and felt around for a bit. The silver coin he brought out made her gasp involuntarily.
Goddess of the waters
, she thought.
I think I’d prefer he be a brigand
.

“Where did ye come by that, lord?” she asked, shaken visibly. She obviously didn’t want to touch the rune-engraved coin, yet she held out her hand for it. She passed her other hand over it while making a soft crooning noise, slightly off-key. When nothing happened, she cleared her throat and looked chagrined.

Her second attempt was in tune, and the coin glistened with a greenish sheen for a moment before returning to its original appearance.

“I’ll ask ye again, lord,” she said, awestruck. “Where did ye come by that?” She handed it back to him as if she were delivering a live, poisonous spider.

This time, Lian answered. “Saul said that it would garner me some help in town. I see he was right.”

“Saul?” she asked, her face a touch paler. “Saul hisself gave you that?”

He nodded. She obviously knew who the erstwhile ranger was. “He owed me, like,” he said, matching her earlier tone. “I need to get passage on one of the ships in port. I’ll need to know whatever you and your folk know about the two crews. Lastly, between the two of us alone, I need to know about any strangers who have come to town in the last few days.”

“Ye be needin’ to get out of Mola, then?” she asked, relaxing as the nature of his questions was revealed. He nodded and she continued, “Then I’ll answer the last first, lord. Yer the first stranger to hit town, ‘cept for the crews o’ them two ships. I’ll get ye word if someone else arrives, ye be sure o’ that.”

Lian could see that she regarded the token very seriously. “And the other things?”

“I’d bet on the
Searcher
, lord. She’s from the south, and I hear that she’s headed ta the Islanders after they repair the damage. The
Gull
ain’t gonna meet yer needs, seein’ that she makes a regular run from Fendar to Nylla to here and back. She’s got a fancy name, but she’s just a fish hauler, when ye come right down to it.

“The
Gull’s
men are mostly fishermen turned sailor, an’ the captain’s a bit-counter named Alric. The master-at-arms knows his finger from ‘is arsehole, sure enough, but I wouldn’t lay any money on the
Gull
if some pirate mistakes ‘er for somethin’ worth hittin’,” she said. “They don’t make trouble ‘ceptin for now and again, and their coin’s Dunshoran, if a mite clipped and battered.”

Dunshor’s mints produced coins with a very consistent purity, and the nation’s coin was readily accepted in most neighboring regions for that reason. The Dunshor coins were also engraved with quite ornate designs that were difficult to counterfeit. Of course, there were always attempts to make fake coinage, but it wasn’t usually worth the trouble to try to mimic Dunshor’s currency.

That the
Golden Gull
paid its sailors in Dunshorian coin didn’t surprise Lian, since the merchantman was obviously part of Fendar Port’s supply system. The garrison force there relied heavily on imported foodstuffs, since the cliffs and rocky terrain didn’t support much in the way of agriculture. It had always been Fendar’s key strategic weakness.

“And the
Searcher
?” asked Lian. He swallowed the rest of his ale and motioned her to refill both their cups. She did so without asking for further coin, filling Lian’s cup with the better ale and refilling Snog’s with the drink from the barrel. Lian laid down another copper anyhow. Snog grabbed his as soon as she set it down and immediately started guzzling. Lian suspected that his short companion regarded the piss-poor ale to be a delicacy.

She shrugged and the second coin joined its cousin. He didn’t quite see what happened to either coin, and made a note to keep her well away from his purse, king’s token or no.

“They look to be mercenaries, milord,” she said, picking up a rag and wiping down the bar with it absent-mindedly, “but you can tell that for yourself. They don’t cause much trouble, not even the two boggles.” She glanced at the scout to see if he would react, but the goblin was making odd crooning noises into his cup, appearing to ignore her words completely.

“Their leader ain’t the captain of the ship, I’ve been told, though he owns it. He’s a tough-looking bastard named Ardan, from the west somewheres,” she said with a nod toward that horizon. There were many kingdoms “in the west,” and the term was a catch-all for someone of uncertain origin.

“Ardan carries one of those them thin blades they like in the Empire, but this one’s straight ‘stead of curved,” she said, describing what Lian supposed was a rapier.

“What’s he like?” Lian asked. She hadn’t given him any information he couldn’t have gleaned himself from watching the foreigners.

She shrugged, and he thought he detected a bit of a flush under her tanned skin. “Nice enough, if I was asked. Keeps his men under control, and that ain’t easy with a batch like them.”

This seemed contradictory to her earlier statement about the crew not causing much trouble, but Lian let it go.
He’s sleeping with her, or at least she’s thinking about sleeping with him
, he told himself.
Given her reaction to Kolos’ token, Lian, she certainly won’t be showing any more interest in
you. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that anyhow.

“They’ve got a mage, though,” she said, lowering her voice, “an’ him I don’t like a bit. He’s got a bad feelin’ to him, lord, and I’d give him a wide berth.”

Now that’s useful to know
, he thought, saying, “I’ll keep that in mind, barkeep.” She hadn’t offered her name, and he didn’t offer his. “He wear any College colors?” he asked as he gathered his second ale and moved to take one of the tables.

“Nay, lord,” she replied, thinking. “He’s got an earring with a shark’s tooth on it, though, if that helps ye. He don’t wear anythin’ but grey otherwise.”

“We’ll take the fish, then, and some more ale when you bring it,” he ordered, and sat down facing the front entrance. Snog took the chair opposite him, keeping an eye on the windows behind Lian as well as the kitchen.

“Grey, huh?” murmured Snog with a sardonic expression, all trace of his earlier drunkenness gone. “Don’t trust mages much, milord. Less, when they don’t show their colors.”

Most mages, in actuality, chose not to wear the traditional colors of their college most of the time. To do so may allow an enemy an advantage, since identifying someone’s college could mean knowing something of the magics they employ. Furthermore, many mages had no formal college training, or disdained the ancient colors for some personal reason.

Some mages went so far as to wear colors that had nothing to do with their college, but that would mislead an attacker as to the nature of their powers. There were more flavors of magekind than could be found in the finest sweetshop.

Lian intended to take the wizard’s measure when and if they met, and not before, as well as that of the mercenary leader.

“Lady showed ye some interest, milord, afore ye give ‘er the token,” Snog said, shaking his head with a wry grin on his face. “Mayhap ye should’ve waited a bit . . . ” He let his words trail off meaningfully before adding, “Quite a women, eh, lord?”

Lian wanted to kick the scout under the table, but it wouldn’t have fitted with his demeanor. As it was, he hoped that Gem’s illusion covered the deep red flush he experienced at the goblin’s comment.

Chapter Twenty

“The thirteen-month Lushran year is not the only accepted calendar. The Southron Empire, owing its origins to the Were-King Dramar, counts the year by the cycling of Aliera. The Moon of Beasts, which rules the changing of the weres, possesses fourteen cycles throughout the year. Lushran and Aliera are full at the same time only once per year, on Year’s End.”

-- “The Southron Calendar” by the Master Pilot Pembra

The woman studied the mercenaries from her vantage point in the forest. She sensed a dark presence traveling with them, and she had journeyed from her lair by day to keep an eye on the pair. The leader’s possession of a Companion’s token surprised her, and kept her attention on him. His words with the sheriff’s wife, Shana, had carried to her, even though she was well over a hundred yards away. Those words intrigued her.

Kolos himself, aiding a pair of simple mercenaries? The deposed vampire king didn’t bestow his mark lightly, and she decided to discover more. She hadn’t spoken to Kolos personally in three decades, not since the battle with Evan’s army. She wasn’t quite sure what she would do to him if they
did
meet face to face.

The king’s betrayal of his people was bad enough, but his poor judgment and lack of willpower had cost the lives of four of her fellow Companions. The vampire named Sileth was nearly as old as the ancient king, and her fury at Kolos had not even begun to fade. Perhaps it never would.

She withdrew into the forest and went in search of the gypsies who had camped near Mola for the last three days. The gypsies had left the king’s service after his fall from grace, but Kolos still permitted them free rein in his lands. Unbeknownst to the king, the gypsy elders had sought her out afterwards and offered her their service. She had accepted their
akhet
, as her mother’s tongue called it, gravely. She had no intention of betraying
her
oath to them.

If any in Greythorn would know of these two strangers, it would be the Argesh gypsies.

The innkeeper named Shana cursed her luck once again as she pan-seared the fish the mercenary had ordered. She now faced a dilemma, and one she hadn’t bargained for.

The strange wizard who’d stolen into the Lonely Gull the night before had paid her handsomely to contact him if any strangers arrived in Mola, especially, as he put it, “ones in need of a hasty and private departure.” At the time, it had seemed a simple enough request, and one that she’d gladly accepted. Besides, something in the sorcerer’s mein implied that he didn’t accept refusals.

But he didn’t pay me enough to break faith with Greythorn himself, gods damn that token to hell!
she thought as she flipped the two pieces of fish in the pan. Her hands were trembling, and she dropped one piece over the side of the pan and down into the stove’s wood box. “This one’s for the goblin,” she muttered as she retrieved it from the fire. She knocked most of the ashes and soot from it.

What to do?
she deliberated, praying vainly to the sea gods for guidance. If she honored her previous bargain and betrayed this man, and Kolos discovered the deed, she was a dead woman. The former king, oathbreaker or no, did not condone betrayal from his servants.