The Silent Tempest: Rite Of Exile Part 15

Though Caleb was grateful to be out of the trackless wilderness, the Master Raen was not so confident. He kept glancing behind, or slowing down when he thought he spotted something, or when a curve in the road blocked the view. Caleb fretted at this delay: they were still at least twenty miles from any of the more populated areas surrounding Enili.

The shadows lengthened, and Soren fell back to ride alongside his companion. "I've never seen it so empty before."

"So that's what's been bothering you," Caleb said. "First you worry about being found; now you don't like how empty the road is."

"You don't understand," he replied, too distracted to take offense. "Miners hurry to get their payloads into Enili this time of year, before the heavy snows off the lake hit. I didn't expect a mad rush, but we ought to have seen one or two by now."

"Hm. Don't forget we're traveling in the same direction they would."

"Of course I know that. But don't you think we'd have caught up with at least one of them by now?"

"Maybe. Or else you're making too big a deal out of it."

Soren shook his head in answer, then urged his horse forward, leading the way as before.

Presently the road sloped into a long hollow, its trees already shadowed with the evening. Without warning, Soren brought Tellahur to a stop, swept out his Fetra, and brandished it towards the dense foliage to their left.

"Who are you?" he cried out.

Caleb followed his stare. A man carrying a large pack had emerged from the shadows between the trees. Sweat glistened across his brow, as if he had been struggling with his burden for many miles. At Soren's sharp command he stopped near the edge of the road, holding his palms out in appeas.e.m.e.nt. He was a bit younger than Caleb, and shorter, with steel-gray eyes in a handsome face, and straight, jet-black hair down to his shoulders.

Soren dropped from his saddle and brought the point of his saber close to the man's chest. "Answer me! Who are you?"

"He's not some kind of enemy," said Caleb before the stranger could speak. "What in Hendra are you planning to do, run him through?"

"We meet no one for miles and miles, and he jumps into the road the moment we pa.s.s by!"

Caleb had to admit this sounded a little too coincidental. He dismounted, instructing Warren to remain in the saddle. "Well, you're not a Hodyn," he said to the stranger. "But you're not an Adaian, either. Treth?"

The man wiped a sleeve across his brow. "Not by birth. My parents were merchants from Serabote. They brought me to Trethrealm by ship when I was little."

"That doesn't explain why you were hiding in the woods," said Soren.

"I was relieving myself!" the man cried, arms spread to either side. "Now will you please put your sword away?"

The Master Raen only withdrew it a few inches. "Your name!"

"Rennor!"

"Rennor? That is no Trethan name."

"I told you, I'm not Treth by birth. If you need to know, it's from the language of my ancestors. It means wayfarer."

"Really? Say something in your native tongue, then."

"My birth tongue?"

Soren thought a moment. "No, Trethan."

The stranger hesitated, then nodded. "Haga i strvo'no servinta. Boosh ins el thar."

Caleb waited for Soren to speak. "Well? Was it Trethan or wasn't it?"

Soren shrugged. "It sounded like it."

"You don't know their language? Why in thunder did you ask him?"

"To see his reaction."

Rennor grinned. "How was it?"

"I'll keep it to myself," Soren replied. "Meanwhile you still haven't told us what you're doing so far from town."

"I've got nothing to hide. I'm in the employ of the Grand Loremaster. I've just returned from a long expedition north of Lrana."

Caleb blinked at him. "Who?"

"What other Grand Loremaster is there? Telai, of course. She sends me to other countries now and then to search for artifacts or ancient doc.u.ments. I'm on my way back right now to report my findings."

Soren barked a laugh. "A Treth! A Treth in the service of the Loremaster of Ada!"

"Actually, for a job like this, she prefers foreigners. It eliminates any preconceptions or prejudices."

"That sounds just like her," Caleb said.

Rennor kept his attention on Soren. "Wait a minute-you're the Master Raen of Ada. You're Soren!" He bowed. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Soren made no reply. Caleb introduced himself and asked, "Don't you have a horse?"

"I lost it a while back-broke his leg crossing a river." A brief loathing marred his features. "I had to put him down."

"Better than eaten alive by wolves," said Soren.

Rennor brightened a little at this comment, then glanced at the pack horse. He shifted his pack on his shoulders, grimacing. "I, um, don't suppose I could impose on you-a.s.suming you're headed for Enili."

"Well, there hasn't been much for our pack horse to carry these last few days," Caleb answered. "I think we can rearrange a few things."

The Master Raen turned a slow stare. "That is not your decision-recruit!"

Caleb squared his shoulders. "Be a friend to strangers-isn't that how it goes? Or are you suggesting it's no longer part of the Oath?"

Soren shifted his attention back to Rennor, his hand twitching at the hilt of his Fetra. Finally he lowered his sword. "I'd be obliged to help you if you were telling the truth. But this could be nothing more than a clever story. Unless you can offer some kind of proof, I can't allow your company."

"Ridiculous," said Caleb before Rennor could answer. "Imagine how Telai will feel if we refuse to help one of her trusted servants."

The angry flush on Soren's weathered face was nearly lost in the reddening sunlight. "Imagine a grown man blinded by a lovesick heart!"

Caleb bridled at the accusation. "I'm as good a judge of character as you are, Soren. And I refuse to tell her I stranded her friend in the middle of nowhere-a.s.suming I ever get back to Ekendore. Let him ride with us, and let his deeds prove his words, the same thing you said about me in Udan!"

Soren glared at him. Caleb stood undaunted, however, and the old Raen slammed his Fetra back in its sheath.

"So be it!" he cried. "Though I have a nagging feeling I'll regret this," he said, facing Rennor, "you may ride with us-in front! And we're on a critical mission. When we get to Enili, you are under strict orders not to reveal our presence there. To make sure you obey this command, you're to stay at the same inn until we're gone."

"You have nothing to worry about," Rennor said. "And I'm hardly in a position to refuse."

Soren opened his mouth to reply, but Caleb intervened. "Enough, Soren. There's a limit to legitimate suspicion."

The Master Raen mounted his horse. "Is that so?" he said, and pointed at Caleb. "You, my trusting Raeni tenderfoot, can stand the first watch by the door tonight-and I hope, by Orand, you do a better job of it than you did in Dernetonde."

The light was fading fast, and they resumed their journey with one addition to their party. The stranger rode in front as required. Caleb, however, curious about the man's occupation and defiant of Soren's evil stares, rode beside him asking many questions. Something about Rennor struck a note of familiarity, one he had difficulty pinning down. It was as if he had met him in a forgotten dream or a former life. But Rennor, apparently offended by the Master Raen's distrust, only offered polite, noncommittal responses. Caleb gave it up and fell back to ride beside Soren.

After a few miles the tall oaks gave way to the more open country of outlying fields and pastures, with the amber lights of farmsteads springing to life in the dusk. Harvest was in full swing here, and they pa.s.sed an occasional rider or wagon returning home from market. Caleb, still eager to learn more about Ada, watched them with fascination: a boy not much older than Warren riding a huge draft horse; migrant workers emerging from the fields after a long day of back-breaking toil; and a farmer driving a cart loaded with winter supplies, his teenage daughter hunched beside him with her arms folded and her face a brewing storm.

Midnight approached. Caleb could barely keep his eyes open. Even Soren drooped in the saddle, and Warren had already dozed off, Caleb holding him in place as their horses plodded down the road.

At last they crested a low hill to see the shimmering lights of Enili. There were no high towers or majestic works of stone. Most every building they pa.s.sed was built of cut timber or carefully joined logs, some embellished with hand-carved doors and window frames. Though loud and frenetic during the harvest, the city was peaceful at this late hour, save for the occasional raucous surge from a nearby alehouse.

An unexpected familiarity soothed Caleb's fears. He remembered Telai's lessons about this city and how it had taken him back to the tales of the ancient north Karla had told him about. Mostly Adan with a mixture of Treth, Enili's cheerful and hospitable folk consisted of traders, trappers, smiths, stone masons and miners of the Irenseni, as well as the farmers of the surrounding countryside. During the long months of deep snows they shared everything, a tradition handed down from the town's early years of hardship-the same struggle those ancient towns on Earth had once known.

After much searching and arguing and craning of necks they found a vacancy notice posted at a two-story structure near the western border of town: the Outer Inn. Twin lanterns suspended by iron brackets illuminated wide double doors facing the street. After a ring of the bell and a long wait two servants appeared, disheveled and bleary-eyed. They took their horses to the stables on the north side of the building.

Beyond the entrance lay a wide hall, rustic and silent, with large, round tables beneath a forest of upturned chairs. The only light came from the embers of a dying fire at one end of the hall, and from a small lamp burning on a counter toward the back. No one was there. Soren led the way, threading through the maze of furniture with the others close behind. When he arrived at the counter he noticed a tiny bra.s.s bell hung by a cord.

With one yank it gave out a harsh little jingle. After a minute or two a pair of eyes peeked around the corner: a short, st.u.r.dy Trethan woman with dark, tousled hair. She blinked and yawned, adjusted her nightgown on her shoulders, then approached the counter.

"Raeni, if I'm not still dreaming. What do you need an inn for-unless you're part of the search out of Udan?"

What search, Caleb almost said, but received a swift hard kick from Soren before the second word was out. A ribald Terran curse fell, but it was meaningless to everyone except Warren, who gazed up at his father in bleary astonishment.

"Yes," Soren answered. "And we ask that you keep our stay here a secret, to keep from tipping off our quarry. Do you have rooms?"

"You're lucky. With all the migrant workers from Trethrealm, we're usually full this time of year."

"Well? How much?"

"Six krel per night, four after the second night."

Soren grunted. "No wonder you have vacancies."

There was a heavy sigh. "Do you want a room or not?"

He nodded. "We'll take one."

"One?" the other men asked in unison.

He pointed at Rennor. "I want him where I can see him."

"How much longer do I have to put up with this?" Rennor said, blood rising to his cheeks. "I'll never prove myself to someone as suspicious as you."

"Your company was not my idea," he said, and shot an accusing glance at Caleb.

"Curse you, Soren," said Caleb. "I can't believe you and Telai are of the same race."

The old Raen smoldered. Doubtless he was building up to some climactic retort, but he lost his chance.

The innkeeper reached up and gave the bell a vigorous yank. "I'll settle this for you: there's only one room left. And if you keep it up, there'll be none!" She leaned forward to look at Warren, who had plopped down on a footstool near the wall, his head drooping. "Stop your bickering, and get that poor child to bed!"

Caleb put all his power into a dark stare, but she stood resolute. Soren dug into his pockets, muttering, while Rennor frowned, no doubt having serious misgivings about sharing the same room. But no one had the heart to go out and hunt for another inn.

The Master Raen slapped the money on the counter. "One night!"

Caleb could have argued with that as well, but decided not to push his luck. "Is there any food available?" he asked the innkeeper. "We're famished."

The woman gripped the counter. "It's bad enough to wake me and my staff past midnight, but I'll be d.a.m.ned if I ask them to fire up the stove, cook a meal, then clean up afterward for only four! I can give you some cold biscuits or fruit, but if you want a hot meal you'll either have to find another inn, or wait until morning. The others will be along in a minute with your belongings."

Caleb fumed, but there was nothing to be done about it, so they followed her down a narrow hall to a room near the back of the inn. It was one bed short, but Warren could share with his father, and both were too tired to care, anyway. The woman, more helpful than she sounded, fetched two large baskets filled not only with biscuits and fruit but with cheese, a few cold meat pies, a flask of milk and, best of all, a bottle of raspberry wine.

Warren was fast asleep in bed before the others had finished eating. They sat near the fire, the mellow flames casting shadows over their weary faces, and fought to keep their bloodshot eyes open long enough for a brief discussion.

"What did she mean by search out of Udan?" Caleb asked, his words slurring together. The strong wine was having its effects. "Is it what I think it is?"

Soren watched the fire, deep in thought. "Maybe," he answered at last. He turned his glance on Caleb. "You were an idiot to bellow out my name like that."

Caleb was too tired for a reb.u.t.tal. Rennor said, "If you don't mind my asking: what's this all about?"

Soren shook his head. "Not your concern."

Rennor brooded for a moment before turning to Caleb. "It sounds like you know Mistress Telai pretty well."

"You could say that. We-" he started, then shrugged. "I consider her a close friend, if that's what you're asking."

"Then I would be doing her a disservice if I didn't offer to help."

"The only help we need from you is your promise to keep quiet," Soren answered.

Rennor blew his breath out in exasperation. Caleb said, "You know, Soren-maybe there is a way he can help. In fact, I don't see how we can do without him."

"Indeed!" Soren blurted. "How so?"

"Supplies. How in Ada were you planning to get supplies without being recognized?" Soren only stared blankly at him, and Caleb said, "Unless you're considering theft, of course."

The Master Raen's stare blackened dangerously. "I admit we are in this together, recruit, and depend upon each other for many things." He aimed a finger at him. "But that does not give you license to disrespect. Remember your place!"

He turned to Rennor, letting Caleb simmer in silence. "You're willing to do this? Get our supplies?"

"Of course. Just tell me what you need."