Chapter 4
The food was surprisingly good, and Jade was suddenly aware how famished she was. She quickly finished her first bowl, and Maklavir kindly ordered her another, ignoring her feeble protests. Kendril was content with a mug of ale, which he drank slowly, his dark eyes watching Maklavir’s every move. Jade could feel the growing tension at the table, and decided that some conversation was better than the brooding silence.
“So, Maklavir,” she said, fishing a potato around in her stew, “what brings you to the middle of the wilderness?”
The man chuckled. “Nothing in particular. This is more of a stopover for me than anything else. I’m headed west towards Windspoint, looking for work.”
“What kind of work?” asked Kendril quietly, the first words Jade could remember him speaking since the food had arrived.
Maklavir grinned. “I’m a diplomat by trade, though I dabble a bit in local laws and treaties. Border disputes, inheritances, property deeds, that sort of thing. I look for work wherever I can find it.” He took a bit of stew, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief.
“Diplomatic work?” Jade asked curiously. “Have you ever worked with kings and queens, then?”
He took a sip of water from his mug. “A long time ago, yes. I was at the court of King Luxium of Valmingaard. I spent many years there. A most wonderful time, I must say.” He stopped eating for a second, a wistful look coming into his eyes. “Unfortunately, I was compelled to end my employment there.”
Kendril eyed the diplomat carefully. “A woman?”
“Kendril!” Jade glanced over at him in shock.
Maklavir gave the Ghostwalker a surprised look, as if noticing Kendril for the first time. “Yes, actually.” He put his spoon down on the table.
The Ghostwalker leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “What did you do, try to run off with the King’s daughter?”
“Daughter-in-law, actually,” said Maklavir. He picked up his spoon again, calmly scooping up a piece of meat from his bowl. “The whole thing was rather complicated, really. I had made some arrangements for King Luxium’s son Kanthar to wed Princess Driana of Kalingland.” He took a bite, waving his spoon in the air. “It was a master stroke, really. The two kingdoms would have been united, and believe me, they both needed it. It would have secured peace in that region for a long time.” His face soured. “Unfortunately, I miscalculated.”
“Lack of self-control is hardly a miscalculation,” said Kendril dryly.
Jade shot the Ghostwalker a harsh look, then looked back at Maklavir. “It’s all right, Maklavir. You don’t need to tell us all this.”
The diplomat picked up his water mug, and shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not? It hardly matters anymore. I simply misread Prince Kanthar’s feelings for the lovely Driana.” He paused for a moment, as if remembering. “Unfortunate that she did not return them.”
“I’m very sorry.” Jade glanced over at Kendril, who was still watching Maklavir carefully.
“Not at all.” Maklavir sighed. “There are times when I miss life at court, though.”
Jade took another bite of her stew, chewing a carrot thoughtfully. She swallowed, feeling the pain in her head returning. “Valmingaard,” she said, more to herself than anyone else.
Maklavir put down his mug. “I beg your pardon?”
“Valmingaard,” she repeated. “That name sounds familiar, like I’ve heard it before.” She looked at Maklavir, her face suddenly brightening. “It’s…it’s a cold place, isn’t it? In the north?”
The diplomat raised his eyebrows. “I’ll say it is. The winters there were awful. No matter how many fires we lit, we could never keep the palace warm.”
Kendril looked over at Jade with interest. “You’re starting to remember something?”
She shook her head, instinctively touching her bandage again. “Yes,” she said, “and no. I remember Valmingaard, but I don’t know why or how.”
“Have you been there before?” asked Maklavir.
“I’m—I’m not sure.” Jade winced as her headache began to return. “I think so…I have images in my head of dark woods, and a mountain range covered with snow.”
Maklavir settled back in his chair. “Sounds like Valmingaard. The palace is very close to the northern mountains. The view from the Crystal Tower is breathtaking.”
Jade stared out the windows of the tavern. The rain had stopped, but the sky was still ominously gray. “It’s so hard,” she whispered. “Remembering, but not remembering at the same time. It’s like I’m looking at myself in the mirror, but I can’t see my face.”
The table was uncomfortably silent for a few moments.
Kendril pushed his now empty mug away. “Well, it’s stopped raining, so I think I might as well take a look around.” He got up from the table, glancing back at the group of card players behind them. “Better go before it gets dark out, anyway.”
Jade stretched her legs out towards the fire. “I think I’ll stay here by the fire a while longer, if you don’t mind.”
“So will I,” said Maklavir with a gleam in his eye.
“Alright then,” said Kendril slowly, giving the diplomat a suspicious glance. “I’ll be back soon, Jade.”
He turned, heading towards the front door of the inn.
Jade leaned back in her chair, listening to the sound of the fire crackling and hissing.
“So how are you feeling now?” asked Maklavir, folding his hands on the table in front of him.
Jade smiled at the diplomat. “Safe,” she said.
It had just started to rain when two riders materialized out of the darkness.
The single sentry at the western gate sighed heavily, then rose to his feet, feeling the rain fall in cold drops on the back of his neck. He stepped out into the road, his pole arm slung across his shoulder. He squinted to see the shadowy shapes of the riders. One was wearing a broad-brimmed hat, the other a long cape with a feathered cap.
“Who goes there?” he called.
The riders continued forward at a slow pace, their horses’ hooves clopping noisily in the mud. They made no response.
Instinctively, the sentry grabbed his pole arm, swinging it off his shoulder. “I said who—”
A hand clapped over his mouth, cutting off his words. Before he could react, a blade from behind slashed across his throat. A second later his body collapsed to the ground.
The two riders came up to the sentry’s motionless form. Calmly wiping the bloody knife clean on a wet patch of grass, his murderer nodded back towards the town. “She’s in the tavern. Derik’s keeping a watch on her.”
Montrose grunted, staring down the dark street stretching away from the gate. Four more riders appeared behind them, trotting quietly up to join them.
The nobleman seated next to Montrose looked down at the sentry’s body with distaste. “Do you intend to kill everyone in the town?” he asked with a sarcastic tinge, his eyes watching as the sentry’s dark blood mixed with the rain and mud.
Montrose shook his head slowly. “Not unless they give us trouble, which I doubt. Most of the people here will keep their heads down and leave well enough alone.” He turned to two of the four riders who had just joined them. “Get to the far gate and dispatch the sentry,” he said. “And do it quietly.”
They nodded, and rode off into the town.
Regvar sheathed his knife, then dragged the corpse off the road into the bushes.
The nobleman glanced nervously into the scattered buildings of the Outpost. “What about the other guards?”
Montrose chuckled. “I doubt there are any other guards, Sir Reginald. These sentries are probably it. The Post is a trading town, not a fortress.”
Reginald snorted, straightening his feathered cap. “So you’re just going to barge in there and grab the girl?”
“More or less. I don’t expect this will be too difficult.”
“That’s what you said about the getting her t
he first time.”
Montrose turned in the saddle, and gave Reginald a look that made the nobleman swallow his next words.
“Don’t worry. This time, I intend to be extra careful.”
“Your hand is showing again.”
Jade quickly pulled back her cards, giving Maklavir a startled look. “Was it?”
The diplomat didn’t look up from his cards. “Yes.”
Jade nodded slowly, looking down at her hand again. “Sorry. All right, I bet…five.” She gave Maklavir an expectant look.
He leaned back with a sigh. “I fold.”
“Already?” Jade’s voice was filled with disappointment. “Don’t you want to…” she stopped for a moment, remembering the term, “call?”
“No.” Maklavir laid his cards face down on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily. “I already know your hand is better than mine.”
Jade slapped her cards down on the table. “How?”
Maklavir chuckled as he crossed his arms. “Well, even if there wasn’t the fact that you were showing your hand to the entire tavern, you’ve been grinning like a Cayman corsair ever since your drew your cards.”
“Oh.” Jade pursed her lips. “Well, it’s a very fun game. I’m sure I’ll get better the more I play.”
The diplomat scooped up the cards, shuffling them easily back into the deck, then slipped them into his pocket. “I’m sure you will.”
The common room of the tavern was nearly empty, save for the two of them. A solitary trapper was sitting at the bar, but he had just finished his last drink and was preparing to leave. A few scattered candles lit the room in a dim orange glow, and the tavern maid was cleaning a nearby table, whistling an old drinking song. The storm that had been threatening all evening had started about twenty minutes before. Outside there was an occasional rumble of thunder, and the rain pounded relentlessly against the windows.
Jade glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, it’s late. I should probably go to bed.” Her eyes drifted to the tavern door. “I wonder where Kendril has gone? I thought he’d be back by now.”
Maklavir shrugged. “You did mention that he was planning on parting ways with you. Perhaps he’s already left.”
Jade nodded sadly, looking back at the finely dressed man sitting across from her. “Perhaps. I was kind of hoping to…well, to have his company tomorrow. I still can’t remember anything.” She sighed, rubbing her temples.
“I certainly wouldn’t dream of leaving a lady like yourself all alone in such a place,” Maklavir said with a smile. “I would be happy to accompany you as long and as far as is necessary.”
The beautiful girl’s face brightened. “Thank you, Maklavir. That’s very kind.”
His eyes twinkled briefly. “It would be delinquent of me to do otherwise. Go ahead and head off to bed, if you like. I’ll meet you here for breakfast in the morning.”
Jade stood, then bent over and gave Maklavir a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you again. For being such a gentleman.” She gave him one last parting smile, then headed up the stairs.
Maklavir watched her disappear, then kicked his legs up on a nearby chair, chuckling quietly to himself. The common room was empty now. The tavern maid had disappeared. The fire was slowly burning itself out. He yawned, staring at the last dying embers.
It was about time for him to retire for the evening himself, he thought.
A cry from the kitchen suddenly broke into his thoughts. The tavern maid was shouting something, and there was a clattering of pans.
Maklavir jerked his head towards the kitchen door behind the bar. A second later it burst open, and Kendril strode through, his hood and cloak soaked with rain.
The tavern maid followed after him, angrily pointing back towards the kitchen. “The back door is not for guests!” she said angrily. “Only the front!”
Kendril ignored her, flinging his hood back. He glanced quickly around the room.
“Didn’t expect to see you again,” Maklavir said in a cool voice.
“Where’s Jade?” Kendril said brusquely. His eyes continued to scan the room, especially the direction of the front door.
Maklavir nodded towards the stairs. “Gone to bed. Just a few minutes ago. Why? Is some—”
Without another word Kendril yanked a pistol out from beneath his cloak, cocked it, and made for the stairs.
The tavern maid gasped at the sight of the weapon and fled back towards the kitchen.
Maklavir didn’t move for a moment, his mind trying to digest the scene before him. Then, as Kendril neared the top of the stairs, he cursed under his breath and sprang awkwardly to his feet, kicking over the chair he had been resting on.
Putting one hand to his sword hilt, he ran toward the staircase.
“So you’re just going to wait?”
Montrose took a long pull on his pipe. “Yes. I’m just going to wait.”
They were in one of the Outpost’s many small trading shops. The owner of the store was upstairs, lying tied up in his bed. One of Montrose’s thugs had broken in earlier, after closing hours, and bound the poor merchant at knifepoint. Now the place was serving as a kind of headquarters for Montrose and his gang. The one-eyed leader himself sat on a rocking chair, facing a window that looked out onto the street. Reginald stood nearby, looking out another window. Directly across the street from them was The Laughing Dragon. Rain battered loudly on the roof above, and pounded the muddy street and wooden walkways outside. A sudden silent flash of lightning lit up the street, revealing an empty and desolate sea of mud.
Reginald turned, walking to the store’s front counter. Four of Montrose’s men, whose names Reginald couldn’t remember, lounged about in wooden chairs behind their leader. Empty jars of molasses were on the floor by their feet, as well as the remains of a leg of ham and several loaves of bread. Montrose had strictly forbidden any of them to touch the liquor in the store, or even to light a candle. So far they had grudgingly obeyed.
Reginald turned back to the window. “She could get away.” Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.
The bounty hunter blew a smoke ring. “She won’t. First of all, I’ve got a man covering each gate. Second, she doesn’t know we’re here, so she has absolutely no reason to leave in the middle of the night, especially in weather like this. Third, I can see the inn quite clearly from right here, and I seriously doubt she could get out without me seeing. And finally,” he turned, his one good eye gleaming darkly, “quit talking, or I’ll cut out your tongue and use it for a wall hanging.”
Reginald ignored the man. He looked out the other window. “Bloody rain.”
Montrose said nothing, but simply puffed quietly on his pipe.
A door opened in the back of the store, and the men behind Montrose instantly leapt to their feet, readying their weapons. They quickly relaxed, however, when they saw that it was one of their own number.
“I talked with one of the stable boys,” the thug said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “The girl’s there, all right, staying in the last room on the left side, by the window. There’s some fancy gent staying there too, but aside from that it’s just the innkeeper and the wench.”
Montrose didn’t turn his head, but continued to gaze out the window. Smoke curled up from his pipe. “What about the trapper?”
The thug shrugged. “He left, earlier today. Hasn’t been back since.”
“He’s gone for help!” Reginald hissed.
“Without the girl?” Montrose grunted. “I doubt it. Besides, where would he go? It’s more than three days ride in any direction to the nearest town.”
Sir Reginald frowned. “So now what?”
“Now,” said Montrose slowly, putting his watch back in his pocket, “we wait.”