The Dawn of a Desperate War (The Godlanders War) (9 page)

Despite his fears, Corin shoved back his cowl as he slipped through the open door. A kitchen door would often offer welcome to a friendly vagabond, but short shrift to a lurking scoundrel. Presentation was the key.

He caught the elbow of a passing serving boy and tipped his head in greeting. “Morning, sir. Can you summon me the master of the house? I’d have a word with him.”

The young man looked Corin up and down, then shrugged and turned to call across the kitchen in his native tongue, “Maître Jacob! Pour vous!”

Corin blinked in surprise as a grizzled old man by the hearth fire climbed to his feet. The old man stood a full hand taller than Corin and was as skinny as a fence post. Corin almost expected to hear a crackling pop every time he moved, or at least a tortured groan, but the man came forward with a surprising agility and caught Corin’s hand in a firm grip.

“Jacob Gossler. Pleased to meet you!” He spoke an easy Ithalian, which should not have been a surprise for a tavern keeper, but Corin hadn’t hoped for much in such a quiet little village.

“And you,” Corin responded. “I hoped you could help me with a delicate matter.”

The tavern keeper grinned. “Of course, sir! This is Raentz!”

Corin flashed a smile in answer, then shook his head. “It is a different kind of delicate. I had hoped to meet up with an old companion here in Taurb, but he is late in coming, and I fear missing him. Could I trouble you to watch for him and pass along a message?”

The tavern keeper spread his hands. “I will help you if I can, but will your friend come here looking?”

Corin chuckled. “Do you know another tavern anywhere nearby?”

“Not for more than half a day’s journey,” Jacob said.

“Then there you have it. Ben would never go so long without a drink. He’ll be here.”

“And what would you have me tell him?”

Corin hesitated at that. The tavern keeper wore no cheap brass ring on his right hand, or it would have been an easy matter. Though this was not a Nimble Fingers tavern, tavern keepers everywhere observed similar traditions. Attention to details kept them safe, and discretion made them wealthy.

“He is a dwarf who goes by the name of Ben Strunk. If you find him anywhere in the village, send him to me straightaway. He is carrying a package that I dearly need.”

“Then you will be staying with us?”

“Aye. If you can spare a room.”

“I can indeed. But what if he should pass this way when you are not available?”

Corin hesitated. It was only a practical concern to the tavern keeper, but it rang with the same caution Auric had expressed before, and Corin found himself offering the same answer. “If he should arrive after I have gone, bid him deliver his parcel to the nearest druid he can find. He’ll take the meaning of it.”

Jacob laughed. “I hope he does, because it sounds like
children’s
tales to me.”

“It is a most important matter.”

“I can hear that in your voice,” the tavern keeper said, growing solemn. “And I will treat it so.”

Corin bowed his head, grateful, then he turned his gaze toward the common room. “I am supposed to meet someone else here this afternoon. Would you mind if I lingered in your common room?”

“I’ll send a boy out with my finest brandy.”

Corin shook his head. “Beer will do. I am a simple man. But I’d accept a crust of bread if you had it to spare.”

While they discussed refreshments, the tavern keeper started forward, and Corin followed him out through the door and into the common room. He’d gone perhaps two paces when the music stopped. Then, from the front of the room, someone shouted, “You!” in vicious accusation.

Corin turned in the direction of the voice, then hurled himself to the floor one heartbeat before a finely crafted fiddle smashed itself to splinters on the wall he’d been standing next to.

C
orin rolled away by instinct, but his attacker pounced upon him, raining vicious slashing blows with the fiddle’s bow. It was a flimsy weapon, but it cut the air and left welts wherever it found skin.

Confusion cost Corin more than one such injury before he gathered enough control to defend himself. He caught his attacker’s ankles in a grip between his own and twisted sharply, dragging the minstrel from his feet even as Corin levered himself upward. He spun and leaped, throwing himself upon his fallen attacker. His left arm swept up high to push the minstrel’s arms away and trap them against the tavern’s floor. His right hand found the dagger on his belt and whipped it up to press a dimple in the soft skin beneath the other man’s jaw.

They lay locked in that position for a moment, Corin’s chest heaving from the sudden exertion. He blinked sweat from his eyes and got a good close look at the man who had attac
ked him.

He spat a curse. “Oh, gods’ blood! It’s you, isn’t it?” He eased the knife away from the man’s jaw and rolled aside to stare up at the ceiling beside the person who’d tried to kill him.

“Auric sent me to meet you here,” Corin said. “He thinks we should travel together. You’re hunting for the elves, right? I have information you will need.”

Beside him on the floor, the scholar Tesyn cursed in all the living languages of Hurope. And several dead ones.

A stunned silence had gripped the common room from the moment Tesyn sprang on Corin. The tavern keeper was the first man to recover. While Corin still lay panting for breath, the wiry old man stomped forward, grabbed Tesyn by both shoulders, and lifted the poor scholar bodily from the ground. He held him dangling half a foot above the floor, shouting in a furious Raentzian and shaking Tesyn like a pennant in the wind.

Corin took no hurry climbing to his feet. Tesyn? That was the
last
thing Corin had expected. He’d almost have been happier to find Jessamine waiting here in ambush. At least he might have tortured her for information.

The worst of it was that Auric’s plan still made good sense. If there was anyone in the Godlands who might have the knowledge Corin needed, it was likely to be Tesyn. The young scholar
had
provided the map that sent Corin to Gesoelig in the first place. Of course, he hadn’t done it willingly. That complicated matters somewhat.

An idea struck Corin, then. Perhaps there was another map to be taken. That would certainly simplify his immediate future. He stepped forward and lay a restraining hand on the old man’s shoulder. “What can you tell me of this troublemaker? Has he been here long?”

“He is a stranger. He came here late last night and rented a place beside the fire.”

Corin frowned. “Not a room, then? Does he have any belongings with him? Books? Papers? Perhaps a scrollcase?”

The tavern keeper nodded in sudden understanding. “He is a thief? He stole from you?”

Corin considered saying yes. It would have been an easy way to search the scholar’s belongings. But if there were no map, he’d have to settle for Tesyn’s help. So he shook his head and sighed. “Not precisely. It’s a complicated matter. He owns a
certain
document—”

“I’ve seen no documents,” Jacob answered, apologetic. “He came here with nothing but the clothes on his back and the instrument he attacked you with. But give me half an hour, and I’ll find out where it’s hidden.”

Corin searched the scholar with a glance, then shook his head. “No. None of this is necessary. Release this man. I can settle matters on my own.”

The tavern keeper’s eyes went wide with indignation. “Master, do forgive. No one assaults respectable gentlemen in my common room. I’ll see this dog beaten and
then
I’ll deliver him to the gendarmes! They’ll find whatever answers you need from him.”

Tesyn squawked some frantic defense in fluent Raentzian, but the proprietor silenced him with a vicious shake. Corin suppressed a grin.

“I appreciate your concern,” Corin said. “But I’m afraid I must insist. He had his reasons for attacking me, and I have pressing need of him. At liberty.”

The proprietor looked doubtful, but Corin held his eye with a steady gaze. After a moment of studying his expression, the tavern keeper nodded and dropped Tesyn to the floor.

Corin offered him a grateful smile. “You have my word there will be no new disturbances.” He glanced over his shoulder at the wall where Tesyn’s fiddle had shattered on the plaster. “If he’s done any damage to your property, add it to his bill. And another round for your patrons. That should make things right.”

Tesyn squawked again, but the proprietor nodded in satisfaction and withdrew into the kitchen to see to matters.

Eyes flashing, the scholar rounded on Corin. “You have no right—”

“Be careful,” Corin said, his voice steady. “I gave my word there’d be no new disturbances. Control yourself, or you’ll have a chance to research the inner workings of a backwoods Raentzian gaol.”

Tesyn’s eyes popped, but he clamped his jaw shut.

Corin nodded. “Good. Now, Auric tells me you intend to find the ancient elves.”

“You’ve spoken with Auric?”

“Aye. I bore him grim tidings, and he prevailed on me to stay with them the night, but I cannot tarry longer. Grave events are even now unfolding in the world of men, and we must enlist the aid of all the long-forgotten elves, or we are doomed.”

Tesyn blinked. “
All
the long-forgotten elves?”

Corin nodded. “A mighty city’s worth, dispersed and hiding for the day some willing leader brings them back to reclaim what was stolen from them.”

Something like a smile tugged at the corner of the scholar’s mouth. “This is your great quest?”

“Aye. The same as yours.”

Tesyn shook his head. “There is no great city. There are no elven hordes. But I believe there is a small community of them—perhaps a single one—surviving somewhere lost to the world of mortal men.”

“I know that there are more. If you can find me even one, then he can lead me to the people I need.”

Tesyn shook his head. “I am forever astonished by the things that you uncover. And you tell me Auric humored you in this—”

Corin grimaced. He understood the laughter in the farmboy’s voice now. “He did. Enough to recommend that I join up with you despite the bad blood we share. This is important.”

“I am not helping you,” the scholar said. “I have no intention of helping you. It is no hyperbole to say that more than once you’ve left my life a wretched
shambles
, Corin Hugh. You’ve robbed me of two fortunes, and now I’m left playing the fiddle in a village inn for some scraps of moldy bread.” He sucked a deep breath and shook his head fiercely. “I’d rather sacrifice all of Hurope than assist you in any way.”

Corin gaped. The young scholar had always shown a healthy backbone, but Corin had hoped the promise of a grand
adventure
would be enough to win him over. He tried a different tack.

“I’m not more anxious to endure a journey with a man who hates me so. You summoned guards against me in Jepta, and now you’ve tried to kill me! But I will set those things aside because Auric asked it of me. He tasked me with protecting you upon your voyage, and—”

“Did he?” Tesyn interrupted. He tapped his chin with an index finger.

“Aye. He said I needed your wisdom and you needed my cunning, and Fortune had clearly cast our lots on the same path for a reason. He bade me watch over you, and assured me you would aid me in kind.”

Tesyn considered that a moment. “Auric . . . is generous to a fault. He’s patient where lesser men might lash out.” Tesyn had the grace to blush at that, but he pressed on. “And he is as forgiving as a hungry priest on Sunday.”

Corin remembered something Sera had said. He put on his most earnest expression. “Auric is a model for us all. I try every day to emulate Auric’s generous spirit.”

Tesyn laughed sardonically. “You do? I’m not so gullible as that. Perhaps good-hearted Auric has forgiven you your crimes, but he’s a better man than I. I haven’t and I won’t. I will not help you, Corin. I’ll abandon my own quest first.”

Corin fought down an urge to grab the man and shake him as the proprietor had done. He heaved a disappointed sigh instead and glanced back toward the west. “Auric will be disappointed.”

“He’ll forgive me this petty indulgence,” Tesyn said. “That’s an advantage of his nature.” He brushed at his shirtfront, straightened his tunic, then shook his head and started for the front door.

Corin scrambled after him. “Where are you going?”

“To catch my coach. It was only waiting while I grabbed a bite to eat. But now I find I no longer enjoy the hospitality of this establishment.”

“Wait!” Corin snapped, catching at his sleeve, but the scholar ripped his arm free.

“I will not wait. I have a ship waiting for me in Baillon, and I am far more interested in catching her before she sails than I am in staying to chat with you.”

He burst out into the noonday sun, and Corin followed close behind. “Baillon, you say?”

“She sails with the morning tide, and I’ll be glad to leave you far behind.”

“And where from there?” Corin asked as the two men stepped out into the midday brightness. He’d not yet surrendered all his hopes of learning what he needed from Tesyn and making the voyage without him.

But the young scholar seemed to guess at his intentions. He shook his head sternly, even as he left the tavern’s threshold and headed west across the green. “My secrets are my own. But fare you well—”

“It’s to the Isle of Mists,” Corin said hastily. “I know that much.”’

Tesyn gaped. “How?”

“I told you: I’ve been to Gesoelig. I spoke with Oberon himself and came away with secret knowledge that would turn your hair white.”

Tesyn weighed the claim for a moment. Then he licked his lips hungrily. “You must tell me everything you know.”

Corin raised an eyebrow. “And you will do the same?”

“I . . . no. I’m sorry, no. You have taught me not to trust you, Captain Hugh.”

“And how will I trust you? I have no time to go chasing superstition and rumor. Auric seemed to believe you had hard information. A point of contact? A map?”

“Not a map. I’ve learned the danger of carrying maps.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s all in here. The landing place. The ever-forking road. The ghosts!”

“Ghosts?”

“Haven’t you heard? The Isle of Mists is haunted by the angry dead.”

Corin smiled, amused. “All your careful study, and you still believe that there are ghosts?”

“You asked me for help! If you are unconvinced, I will be happy to continue on my—”

A distant thunder finally registered with Corin, and he moved on instinct. He clapped a hand over Tesyn’s mouth and dragged him off the green and around the tavern’s
corner
. Then Corin leaned forward to peek back down the road to the east.

Riders were coming. A lot of riders. At first, Corin took the cloud of dust that they raised for the post coach, but these were horsemen pressing hard, and sunlight glinted here and there off steel armor.

Corin couldn’t guess what they intended, but he doubted it was anything positive. He strained his eyes for a better look, but Tesyn shoved him hard in the chest and jerked his head away. “Have you gone mad? Unhand me, sir! Why, I’ll—”

Corin slammed him back against the tavern’s wall, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs.

He leaned down close in the scholar’s face. “I’ve already told you there are lives in the balance. Those riders mean some trouble, and I can’t afford to have you clamoring—”

The scholar looked baffled. “What riders?”

Corin rolled his eyes. He shifted his grip on Tesyn’s tunic and spun him around so he could glance past the tavern’s edge.

Tesyn spent a moment staring hard toward the eastern road. His head twitched left and right, but he was careful to keep hidden. At last he relaxed in Corin’s grasp, and Corin let him go.

The scholar turned back to Corin and spread his hands. “I’ll ask again. What riders?”

The sound of their hoof beats rang loudly now, but the scholar’s expression was so perfectly earnest that Corin pressed past him to take another look for himself. And then he understood.

They’d come to the very edge of town, but thin tendrils of an unnatural mist hung draped about them. It curled around their horses’ hooves and billowed up around their bodies like ethereal cloaks. More glamours. And at this range, Corin had no trouble seeing the figures of the men. At their head rode a pretty young blonde dressed in heavy battle armor.

Ithale’s justicar had come to Raentz, and she looked angry.