4
She had intended to go directly from the baths to her room, but paused as she entered the common room. It was almost empty. Only Ankh and Lily remained, she leaning over the bar to speak to him in a whisper. As Ton-Kel entered, they broke apart and the Green Mystic turned to glance at her as if he'd sensed her presence.
Ton-Kel smiled a meaningless greeting and smoothly altered her course to cross to the bar. So, the lovely Lily had made a conquest of the Green Mystic, had she? Or had they only been discussing some mutual problem? Something in the brief glance Ton-Kel had caught of Lily's smile, the angle of their bodies as they leaned toward one another, told her otherwise.
It was, of course, utterly unimportant and none of her business. But after all, no knowledge was completely without value, now was it?
She stopped at the bar, nodding a respectful greeting to Ankh, who returned it and her smile with politeness. Lily returned to wiping the wooden surface with a ragged cloth, apparently ignoring them both.
Ton-Kel glanced around the room. "I was hoping the Blue riad would still be here."
Lily said nothing; it was Ankh who replied. "They have retired to another room, above. The Cavalier is still somewhat worn. They should return shortly, however."
"Oh, good." Ton-Kel returned her gaze to Ankh's face, her lips curved in her most winning smile. "I had so hoped to speak to them."
"You will soon have the opportunity," he said, "since Constable Galen has asked that the Triads gather in this room shortly. There is much to discuss."
He had answered her question before she'd even had a chance to ask it. This might be easier than she'd thought. "And does this mean that the Green Triad will be present also?"
Ankh shook his head, his smile gently regretful. "I thought it best that Rowan not attend. And I cannot be here without her."
"Of course not," Ton-Kel murmured. "And I don't suppose it's necessary, since Galen has already told you all he knows of the situation, I'm sure."
"Indeed. We have informed him of the results of our own investigation so far. I am certain he will share all with you." He nodded a polite farewell and turned to go.
Well, she'd hoped to lead up to it more gracefully, but Ankh wasn't giving her the chance. "Perhaps your Ranger could stay with your Cavalier and thus allow you to attend? It would be so much more beneficial to hear what you have learned from your own mouth."
Ankh paused in mid-motion for the smallest instant, but his back was to Ton-Kel and she could not read his face. "No," he said shortly, "he cannot." He moved toward the door with a purposeful stride that allowed no further interruption.
Well, so much for that. Ton-Kel turned her attention to the silent Lily, who still had not looked at her. "Excuse me, Mistress Lily. I was wondering if you have a laundry service? My travel clothes are so filthy I don't even want to pack them."
Lily graced her with a brief sidelong glance, which held no welcome. "Just leave your dirty things outside your door. Someone will take them up and return them to you in the morning." The tone of her voice bordered on rudeness, but calling her on it would be counter-productive.
Holding her smile in place, Ton-Kel leaned casually against the bar and let her eyes drift around the room as if she sought no more than a moment's relaxation.
The room looked much as it had before: clean, rather bare, a few tables and chairs of varying quality and workmanship. In the wall opposite the bar was the archway that led to the baths. The front door was along the wall to the right of the fireplace or left of the bar. An archway on the wall opposite the front door led to the upstairs.
There was another door, an opening behind the bar that, presumably, led to the kitchens, and another farther along the wall, perhaps six feet from the bar. A large fireplace with a single upholstered chair in front of it and a wooden bench on either side. A beautiful rug that looked as though it had come from Sahyun covered a part of the floor in a sprawling wilderness of colors, and a heavy silk hanging that looked like a product of Magdan, done mostly in brilliant red with black and gold tigers stalking across it, hung on the wall beside the door.
Over the mantle hung a huge, double-bladed axe. Light from the open doorway reflected off the unmistakable gleam of steel. It would take an ogre to wield something like that. Surely a trophy of Galen's, unless there was someone else that size walking around that she hadn't seen yet.
"That axe must be worth a fortune," she said. "Is it Constable Galen's?"
Lily grunted a reply that could have meant anything. After a brief pause, she added, "Yes. He used to fight monsters with it when he was a caravan guard. Before we came here."
"Before you came here? Did you travel with him when he was a guard, then?"
Lily did not look up from her polishing. Another shrug was the only reply Ton-Kel received. Time to try something else. "Tell me, how many guests do you have staying here now? And how do you find room for them all?"
Lily continued to stubbornly wipe at the already spotless wood. Her rosebud mouth was drawn into a thin, tight line. Just when Ton-Kel thought the woman's silence was about to stretch to the point of open rudeness, Lily replied. "The hill is hollow. We have lots of rooms."
Well, at least she'd answered. "I suppose the refugees from the caravans are staying here as well," Ton-Kel murmured. Lily said nothing, so Ton-Kel tried again. "I met a young man, all dressed in black, down in the baths. Nayir, I think he said his name was. Is he staying here?"
Lily shrugged. After a moment, she spoke. "I don't know. Alfred usually keeps the guest book."
"Oh, yes — Alfred must be your husband."
Silence. Another shrug.
Ton-Kel wondered if the effort was worth it. Maybe someone just needed to give this little princess a good slap. She smiled even more sweetly. "Have you any more of that delicious cider? I'd like some while I finish my breakfast." She held up the bread she'd saved, folded around the pear and cheese. It was somewhat the worse for wear, but she'd eaten far less savory fare in lean times.
"One bit," Lily said without looking up.
Stifling her indignant reaction, Ton-Kel fished out a broken steel link of maille and laid it on the counter. Lily glanced at them, frowned as if vexed that Ton-Kel actually had money, and turned away to grab a cup off the shelf. As she moved, Ton-Kel saw that her body had blocked the view of the most interesting item in the room.
A beautiful sphere the size of a man's head, made of what looked like frosted glass, all in swirling shades of green and blue, rested on the counter at the back of the bar. It was supported by an exquisitely carved tree, which looked to be of jade, nestling in the branches like a huge egg within a nest. Another tree, small and perfect and of the same jade as the supporting tree, protruded from the top of the sphere. There were shapes etched into the glass, but Ton-Kel could detect no pattern.
"What is that?" she asked. "It's beautiful."
Lily looked up, startled, then back to see what Ton-Kel meant. "Oh, that. Someone saved it from one of the caravans and gave it to me."
The sheer indifference in her tone was an insult, not only to Ton-Kel, but to the artistry of the unknown craftsman. Philistine. She kept her smile in place through force of will. "May I see it? It's really lovely."
"No." Lily turned and walked through the door behind the bar, cup in hand. Ton-Kel's mouth was still open when she returned a moment later. She set the full cup in front of Ton-Kel, scooped up the bit with practiced speed, and went back to her polishing.
"No?" Ton-Kel asked gently, her teeth bared in her sweetest smile.
"It's very fragile. And hard to polish. Fingerprints ruin it," Lily explained. Her tone negated any softening apology her words might have conveyed.
Ton-Kel's hackles rose. This spoiled brat needed a lesson in manners, badly. And another in the respect one owed a Triad member.
She caught herself on that thought and let her indrawn breath trickle out with a sigh,
forcing her muscles to relax. It was not her job to teach Lily manners. Not yet, in any case. She must focus on the job at hand, not on the failings of some sullen little slut.
But if she wanted to keep her temper, she needed to leave. Now.
"I thank you for your time and gracious assistance," she said, still smiling. Scooping up her things, she headed for the stairs and the sanctuary of her room.
As her foot touched the bottom step, she caught a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye; she glanced briefly aside and saw the tall, greying man watching her from the shadows of the doorway beside the bar. He ducked out of sight as she looked. How long had he been there? And why skulk there instead of coming out and talking?
The answer to that seemed obvious as she trotted lightly up the stairs. If that was Alfred, he was as disinterested in conversation as his wife was.
Or maybe he just didn't want to explain to Lily that he'd been lurking there the whole time — maybe throughout her flirtation with Ankh?
It was an interesting thought, and it cheered Ton-Kel as she pushed open the door of the room she shared with her Triad. Neither Paulo nor Baraccus was there. Good. She would be uninterrupted long enough to get ready to go to work.
Setting down her burdens, she stuffed a piece of bread in her mouth and opened up her pack. She dug into her medicine pouch, carefully withdrawing a bundle of lamb's wool and leather wrapping, bound with leather thongs. She picked it apart to reveal a hand-sized silver-backed mirror of real glass; one of her most precious possessions. She blew its surface clear and set it up on the blanket; though it was an important Mystic tool, she needed its more mundane function now.
Her face was already scrubbed clean and glowed from the liberal use of one of the sweet unguents from the inn's stock. Though she was perfectly capable of altering her appearance with cosmetics if she chose, now she merely enhanced her earthy good looks with subtle, light touches, making her full lips more inviting, her eyes even larger and more sultry.
She had already toweled her hair nearly dry. Quickly picking through the damp mass with fingers and comb, she artfully coaxed it into order and soon sported a bouncing mane of brown curls, brightened with sun-born streaks of red and gold. Drawing the upper part back, she caught it at the crown of her head with a clasp of woven gold wire and amber beads.
She owned only a few pieces of jewelry, but they were carefully chosen. She selected her favorites: huge, gold hoops with hanging insets of beaten gold and teardrop topaz. Dangling earrings were not the wisest choice for stealth, but they became her in a way something smaller and more sensible could not. Besides, she loved them. The colors brought out the bright flashes in her hair, the flecks of sunlight in the depths of her eyes, added warmth to her bronze complexion.
She could do little about her wardrobe. She had only two changes of clothing, both black — not her best color. Her spare set was a cotton weave that wouldn't stand up to the rigors of the road. Well, the bloused trousers were almost as graceful as a gown, and the flared sleeves of her tunic, tucked into beautifully tooled leather bracers at her wrists, echoed the lines, adding to her slightly exotic look. A wide, tooled leather girdle, brightened by a scattering of small gold coins and a loop of gold chain, showed off her tiny waist.
She was examining the results of her efforts when a knock sounded on the door. "Meeting below," came Baraccus's voice. "Hurry down."
Paulo and Baraccus had left an empty chair between them; Ton-Kel slipped into it with a swift smile of greeting. Paulo turned to look at her as she settled herself, and his eyes widened. "What's the occasion?" he whispered, his expression admiring.
Ton-Kel cast him a sideways glance and tilted her head toward Galen, who stood by the bar with a slight air of discomfort, as if wishing he were somewhere else. Paulo opened his mouth in a silent "oh" of understanding and nodded.
Ton-Kel glanced at Baraccus to see his reaction, but got only a distracted smile and nod. Baraccus had come straight from the baths; his hair was still damp and sleek against his head, his freshly trimmed beard a thin, black line against his otherwise smooth jaw. He leaned toward her, his gaze not leaving the others in the room. "I had an interesting discussion with the Red Triad in the baths," he said quietly. "I'll tell you about it." He glanced sideways at her finally, his gaze flicking quickly over her from head to toe. "Good work." He returned his attention to the rest of the room.
Stifling her disappointment in his reaction, Ton-Kel tucked one leg under herself and settled into place, a polite smile pasted on her lips as she quickly scanned the room and its inhabitants. Apparently this was to be a closed meeting; only Galen and the three Triads — minus the Blue Ranger — were present. Unless Lily or the mysterious Alfred were lurking about somewhere out of sight.
Ton-Kel dismissed the notion, at least where Lily was concerned. The woman seemed constitutionally incapable of not drawing attention to herself.
The speed with which the Triads had gathered from bath and bed to the common room was almost uncanny — though it shouldn't have surprised her, she supposed. She shifted in her seat and toyed with a curl, hoping the others would settle into their seats soon. A pity there had been no time to linger above for a few more moments, but she knew she had done her usual admirable job. She hoped Galen liked the effect.
Though perhaps her efforts had been wasted. If Galen was, in fact, simply going to tell everyone everything they wanted to know all at once, then she had no further need to exert herself in that direction.
On the other hand, it couldn't hurt.
She looked at the other Triads. By some unspoken agreement, no one wore armor, and of course there were no weapons — even the Blue Mystic's staff had vanished, and he sat beside his Cavalier with an anxious smile on his good-natured face. The Blue Triad had resumed their position along the bench, though Sir Charles presented a cleaner, more professional appearance — how on earth did he keep those boots white? — and even his scruffy Ranger, finally entering from upstairs and scrambling to his seat between his Cavalier and Mystic, had managed to brush some of the dirt stains off his blue hood.
She looked over at Galen again and realized that he'd been staring at her. She smiled and nodded slowly. After a moment he returned her greeting, then straightened away from the bar with the air of one bracing himself to discharge an unpleasant duty. "I thank you for your swift response. I realize many of you have been impatiently awaiting enlightenment concerning Westmere's troubles. I only hope that I can answer all your questions.
"But please understand one thing — much of what brought you here is a mystery to us as well. If we knew what was happening, we would not have had to send for help." His face hardened. "Believe me, we had no desire to seek the attention of the Triumphant or their Masters. Or court their intervention in our affairs."
The Red Cavalier — it could be no one else — straightened in his chair, an ill-tempered scowl on his long-nosed face. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, his graying, sandy hair and beard framing a narrow face that looked as though the features were etched onto it. He wore a black arming jacket with a red chevron blazoned across his chest over a black shirt, the sleeves of which were dagged and trimmed in scarlet, looking like tongues of fire as they fluttered in the occasional breeze from the door. "If you are referring to the Triumphant of Killaloe," he said, "I can assure you that our orders did not come from them." His voice, lightly accented, identified him as the first of those to whom Baraccus had spoken in the baths below.
On either side of him sat a man and a woman who had to be the rest of his Triad. Though seated, it was clear that both were of the same sturdy, almost stocky build, and shorter than the Cavalier by better than a head. The man leaned forward, his broad, hawk-nosed face creased with concern. He must be the Mystic; no Ranger would wear those gaudy red slippers, and the loose black tunic that came to his knees and bloused red trousers he wore beneath were no woodsman's garb. The wide, red s
ash that bound his waist and matching scarf tied around his head clinched it. From Torsick, Ton-Kel guessed. "Before this gathering goes further, Sir Constable, I must ask — will the Green Triad be attending?" Ton-Kel hastily revised her guess; his clothes said "Torsick," but his accent marked him as a native of Drachenfel.
Galen shook his head. "It was thought that, for the sake of expedience, the Green Triad should not attend. They are already privy to the facts I intend to present to you. If they have other information, they have not divulged it to me. You may seek them out and question them on your own, if you so desire."
Ton-Kel saw nods of approval and shoulders relax ever so slightly all around the room. She wasn't the only one who was relieved not to have to deal with Rowan.
The Blue Cavalier rose and gave a courteous nod. "If I may be so bold, Constable Galen, may I suggest that we begin by introducing ourselves? If we are to be working together to solve this mystery, it is meet that we should know the names of our allies."
He glanced around the room, his gaze sweeping the faces of the other Triads. "I am Sir Charles le Chevalier, Cavalier of the Blue Triad. This is my Mystic, Ali.…" The Blue Mystic hastily rose and bobbed, then sat again. "And my Ranger, Dale the Bowyer." The Ranger rose far enough for a half-bow.
The Cavalier continued. "We were sent here by our Patron, who informed us that Westmere has been suffering from mysterious raiders. Whether our summons is in response to a call from the Triumphant, I do not know." He sat again, back straight, his face courteously bland.
The Red Cavalier rose, towering over his comrades — and everyone else in the room except perhaps Galen. "I am Sir Ulrik Ochs of Yasenovo, Cavalier of the Red Triad," he said, indicating his companions with abrupt nods. "This is my Ranger, Zizka, and my Mystic, Gottfried."
Neither made any acknowledgement of their introduction. Gottfried merely stared around the room with unreadable brown eyes, while the woman, Zizka, sat unmoving. She was blonde, sun-bleached almost to whiteness, her skin permanently reddened from years spent in open weather. Wide, flat cheekbones, a strong chin, and eyes so pale they were almost colorless. She wore a dark tunic, hose, and vest of no definite color, though a bright red scarf tied around her neck declared her allegiance. Impossible to tell how old she was, but from the mark on her brow — three plain dots, like Ton-Kel's own, though the other woman's were red — it was her first Triad.
Now that she thought to look, Ton-Kel noticed that the marks she could see were all those of first Triads, though Sir Ulrik's and Gottfried's were hidden by head scarves and the Blue Ranger sported a brow band that covered his. Ton-Kel wished they were all bareheaded so she could verify her observation. Not that it meant much — most people didn't survive beyond their first Triad — but it was interesting.
She suspected that the Black Triad had been formed especially for this mission. Suppose it was true for the others as well? That meant the stakes might be even higher than she'd imagined.
But there was Ankh, of course; that made the Green Triad the exception.
Sir Ulrik swept the room with cold, pale eyes. "We were also sent by our Patron." The Cavalier resumed his seat, his face set in a manner that did not invite questions. Evidently no more was forthcoming from him regarding their mission.
Baraccus rose, his familiar smile in place. "I am Baraccus, Cavalier of the Black Triad. These are my Mystic, Ton-Kel, and my Ranger, Paulo. We also were sent by our Patron in answer to Westmere's cry for help." He paused. "Westmere seems a troubled place indeed. But I'm still not sure exactly what the trouble is. Or why it matters." He looked directly at the Red Cavalier. "Were any of you told more?"
Sir Ulrik shrugged. "As you say. Bandit raids and the like are things for an army to deal with, not Triads. But if we can solve this puzzle as we go about our business, we will do so." He paused. "It is good that you are here," he added grudgingly. "The more swords set to this task, the better."
Baraccus's smile did not waver. "If we are indeed to work on the same task."
The Red Triad looked at one another, as if silently conferring. Ton-Kel wondered again how long they'd been together. Had they reached the stage where they could read one another's thoughts?
Sir Ulrik returned his attention to Baraccus, his icy politeness unchanged. "We were also told of Westmere's troubles. But our first priority is to determine what happened to those who came before us."
"Before — you mean, you are not the first Red Triad to come here?" Paulo asked. Baraccus shot him a look and the Ranger subsided.
"The Red Triad that preceded us came here several seasons ago," the Red Ranger, Zizka, replied. "They have not been heard from since. Our Patrons wish to know what became of them."
"Finding one answer might very well lead to the other," Baraccus said. "Interesting."
Sir Ulrik gave a brief inclination of his head. "In the course of our investigations, we will assist Westmere."
Beside Ton-Kel, Paulo give a low whistle; her own astonishment was reflected in the faces of the others. Another Triad? Was there no end to the surprises this quest had in store for them?
"Of course." Baraccus bowed slightly to the Reds. "And if, in the course of our investigation, we discover anything pertaining to the fate of the previous Red Triad, we will, of course, make it known to you."
"As will we," Sir Charles added from the other side of the room.
The assurances of the other Cavaliers seemed to melt the edges of Sir Ulrik's icy formality. "We thank you," he replied a bit less stiffly. "As I have said, I agree with Sir Charles that it is to the benefit of all of us to assist one another in this matter." He returned his stare to Galen. "Now, Constable, if you would please inform us of the exact nature of your difficulties."
It was less a request than an order, but Galen took no obvious offense." I have already told you much of what I will now share with the other Triads," he replied. "But if it aids you to hear it again, by all means, remain and listen."
He straightened and let his gaze sweep the room, resting for a moment on each face as though trying to gauge how they would hear him. "I know nothing of any other Red Triad, nor can I say just when all this began," he said slowly. "Westmere has gone through many changes since the caravan routes altered, and some are surely the natural result of diminished human traffic and less frequent patrols by militia.
"Westmere has always been somewhat isolated, even when caravans were more frequent on the route that most closely passes us. The lesser fair folk haunt these woods and swamps, and strange things are more the norm than the exception. Those of us who have chosen to live here came to accept that long ago."
He took a deep breath, glancing down at the floor for a moment as if gathering his thoughts before looking up again at the faces of his audience. "We have always done our best to live in peace with the fairies who make their homes here. Each of us keeps steel over our thresholds, but we leave milk or other small offerings out when we are able. We do not hunt in the marshes without asking permission of the boggies—"
"Boggies?" Ali raised his hand. "Excuse me, but it sounded to me as if you said 'boggies,' and this makes no sense to me. What are these things you are calling boggies? I have never heard of—" He was silenced by a nudge from his Cavalier.
Galen shrugged. "Guardian spirits of the swamp, lesser Fey. They are among the more powerful of the wee folk who dwell in these parts, but they generally have little to do with men. They are most concerned with plants, and take their shapes from the muck and mire of the marshes. Harmless, for the most part — which is as well, since only fire can harm them, so far as I know. Fire and, of course, steel.
"We were always wary of them, naturally, but there was never need to truly fear them. They seemed to be curious and usually benevolent. They were more likely to appear and ask what you were doing than take any action against you. It could be startling, of course, to have one suddenly rise from the brush in fron
t of you, but, as I say…."
He shrugged again. "However, several seasons ago, this changed. The boggies rose against us, pulling any humans they found within their territory down into the water to drown, having brambles strangle unwary travelers, that sort of thing. We were no longer able to safely communicate with them to discover what had so roused their ire. It is no longer safe to go anywhere near the swamps."
He paused. "When they first arrived, the Green Triad went to them to ask what had changed, but was unable to communicate with them. I'm told they barely escaped with their lives. And if the boggies won't talk to the Greens…." He let his voice trail away, raised one hand and let it fall again.
"At about the same time, raids by brigands became more frequent and my patrols began to encounter trolkien on their rounds. I lost many men that way." He paused. "I lost men to other things, as well."
"What sort of things?" asked Sir Charles.
"There have always been more areas of pocket magic around Westmere than in most places. I ordered them all found and marked some time ago, so that the folk of Westmere were no longer encountering them unawares. But of late, there have been places where pocket magic simply appears for no apparent reason, sometimes vanishing again, sometimes not. Several children died that way only last spring." He paused again and turned his face away, briefly.
For no reason? Ton-Kel frowned. Pocket magic was not an accidental occurrence, but the lingering residue of a mighty spell. No human, and few Lesser Fey, could cast spells of sufficient magnitude. Was Galen unaware of that fact?
"Others have encountered these magical traps and survived," Galen continued. "Westmere has always had a large Tainted population, but now the numbers increase as survivors taint. My men are afraid to travel through many areas, now. I can't blame them."
Murmurs of consternation rose from around the room, and glances of surprise, distaste, or alarm flew back and forth. "Tainted!" Sir Ulrik spat the word like a curse. "You permit Tainted within a human settlement?"
Galen straightened, his boyish face hardening into stern lines once more. "They pay taxes, farm the land, work at jobs like the rest of us, and cause no more trouble than anyone else."
The Red Ranger snorted. "Well, there's half your problem, Constable. Tainted are as cunning as the beasts they resemble. They may act like the men and women they once were when in your presence, but I assure you, they become less human each day as the beast-mind grows stronger within them. They are doubtless behind many of these so-called unexplained occurrences. You would be wise to eliminate them while you can. If you can."
Galen's eyes were suddenly as cold as Sir Ulrik's. "I must warn you that, as citizens of Westmere, they are under my protection, and are to be granted the same treatment as any other civilian. I will take any unwarranted act of violence against a Tainted citizen as seriously as one committed against any other, and will respond accordingly."
Frigid silence filled the room as hackles rose; for a moment, Ton-Kel wondered if the madness that infected the Green Cavalier was sweeping them all in its wake.
Then Sir Charles rose. "It is written: 'woe betide the guest who breaks the rules of the house of his host, for he will bring dishonor upon himself and his name.' I can only speak for the Blue Triad, but we will respect your laws and customs while we are your guests, Constable."
The tension left the room; the Triads relaxed into their seats once more.
"We thank you for the reminder of what the Code decrees, Sir Charles," said Sir Ulrik. To Galen he added, "The Tainted will suffer no harm from the Red Triad, so long as they offer none to us."
Baraccus also nodded. "The Black Triad concurs."
Galen bowed, his face relaxing into a smile that did not entirely disguise his relief. "I thank you. I was certain that your honor would demand no less, but the reassurance is appreciated."
"Is there a pattern to these attacks from which you've suffered?" asked Zizka.
"How many have you lost?" the Blue Ranger, Dale, added.
Galen glanced from one to the other. "They have attacked every caravan that has attempted to pass through this region. Recently, they have begun attacking the outlying farms and dwellings as well.
"Until this last caravan attack, there have been no survivors to tell us more. Now we know that they attack unmounted, and that they are highly skilled. Apparently even the caravan guards were taken completely unawares."
Ton-Kel raised her hand. "Were there any Mystics traveling in this last caravan? If so, did any of them survive?"
"There is one gentleman, one Philemon van der Beck, who claims that he warded himself and so escaped destruction. The other survivors tell somewhat conflicting stories, and I have, therefore, been unable to learn anything helpful. One claims the bandits began shooting each other. Another says the bandits simply killed, looted, burned everything and then left. A woman says that fairies helped them."
A low chuckle swept the room, but Ali raised his hand. "Please will you be so kind as to explain to us if it is that these fairies are helping humans against the bandits, or the faeries are helping the bandits against the humans, and why are they doing either one? I am not understanding. I have never heard of such a thing. And what kind of fairies were these? Perhaps the little, what do you call them, the brown pixies, if they thought it would be fun to cause confusion and make sport with the bandits, but they are not usually so brave, so perhaps it was—"
"Ali," said Sir Charles, "let him answer."
Galen was holding up his hands to halt the flow of words. "I can't answer any of your questions, sir. The young lady fainted not long after the attack began and knows nothing. It is my opinion that no fairies were involved. The young lady was obviously hysterical."
Ali looked disappointed, and Galen continued before the Mystic could ask anything else. "As to our own losses, we have abandoned everything on the other side of the river, save the stockade. I have drawn all our people into this area and trapped the river in several places; so far, nothing has crossed to attack us here.
"But we don't have enough farmable land for everyone on this side. We have enough stored food and small gardens to keep going for this season, but after that, unless something changes people will begin to starve.
"I have forbidden hunting in the forests, save by daylight, by parties I lead, but we can't bring in enough for everyone — game is scarce of late. I know some are disobeying the ban on crossing the river to forage or hunt."
"You understand, Constable, that we must pass freely where we need to in order to do our jobs," said Baraccus.
Galen nodded. "I understand. And you must understand that I cannot help you. Once you pass beyond the stockade, you are on your own. I cannot risk further losses." He paused. "I ask that you avoid the swamps. I don't wish the boggies stirred up any more than they are, and they will almost certainly simply kill you. There is nothing more to learn there."
Sir Charles frowned. "Then where would you suggest we start?"
Galen sighed. "If I knew where to start, sir, I would have done so myself. I am only asking that you take what precautions you can. You have more resources than I. Perhaps things that are deadly to us will be mere inconveniences to you. But judging from the experiences of the Green Triad, I would doubt it."
Dale lifted a hand. "What's wrong with their Cavalier? Why did she try so hard to make us leave?"
Sir Ulrik replied before Galen could answer. "She did not."
Paulo snorted. "Perhaps she didn't try to get rid of you, Sir Ulrik, but we found her less than welcoming, I assure you."
"As did we," added Dale.
Sir Ulrik turned to look each of them in the face. "She could have, had she chosen to do so. But in her challenge to me, she did not name the stakes, though it was her right. Did any of you fare differently?"
Silence greeted his question. Ton-Kel felt stunned. Of course. How could she not have seen it? Aloud, she s
aid, "She could have made that her stake, that if she won, we must leave. But she didn't. She let Baraccus choose."
"And me as well," said Sir Charles.
Galen looked down at the floor, his mouth pulled into a tight line. After a moment, he spoke. "I do not wish to violate a confidence, but I believe it is important that you fully understand the situation. I have come to regard Ankh as a friend — at least, he has proved so to us in the time he has been here. And many of us owe our lives to Rowan. But I must put aside the obligations of friendship for the sake of my town."
He looked up at each of them, his face strained. "The Green Ranger disappeared shortly after their arrival. We do not know where he has gone. Ankh and Rowan believe he still lives." He hesitated again. "I…have reason to believe that it is now he who leads the bandit attacks."
The Rangers shot to their feet as one, anger and disbelief plain on their faces. "Never!" said Zizka. "No Ranger would betray their Triad so!"
"You speak madness, sir!" snapped Paulo.
"Madness indeed," Galen replied. "Whatever malevolent force has risen in this place, I believe that it has taken control of the Green Ranger. And perhaps has touched the Cavalier as well."