The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 57
He sighed. “I know it.”
“You know that what happened is not your fault. Nor is it Annis’. If either of you blames the other, or yourself …”
Gem shook his head quickly. “Of course not. I know that. Only … only, is that not the worst part? When no one is to blame? If she had done something wrong, I could take her to task for it. Or if I had done something wrong—outlandish as the notion might seem—I suppose she could do the same to me, and then there might at last be an end to … to the discomfort. But neither of us have done anything wrong, and so what can we do to fix it?”
His words were all too familiar to Loren. She had said something very similar to Xain back on the High King’s Seat. Many whom she held dear had left her, one way or another—first Jordel, then Albern and Mag, and finally Xain. Yet they had had no choice. Jordel, Albern, and Mag had been slain, all of them in defense of Loren and her friends. Xain had been reunited with his son, and had remained on the Seat to see to the boy’s safety. None of them had any choice in what they had done, and Loren had had no choice but to move on. Yet that had not diminished the pain of their parting, and in some ways had only inflamed it. It had taken her a long time before she could think of them with anything but heartache.
“Mayhap it only requires a bit more work,” she said. “On both your parts, I mean. Finding a way to turn your friendship warm and easy again, the way it used to be.”
Gem looked down at his boots. Then he shrugged, feigning a nonchalance Loren knew he did not feel. “In any case, I suppose it was foolish of me not to predict such an outcome. I should have known long ago that Annis would confess such feelings for me.”
Loren cocked her head. “Because of the way she acted? She has fawned on you almost from the moment you met.”
“She has?” Gem’s eyes went saucer-wide. “I have not seen that, nor is it what I meant. I mean only … well, how could any young maiden keep herself from desiring such a man?” He held the bundle of sticks in one hand while gesturing at himself with the other.
Loren kept herself from cuffing his ear, but it was a mighty struggle. Still, she felt the need to pierce the bubble of his high opinion of himself.
“I hope she did nothing wrong by it, but Annis told me something of your conversation. And she made some mention of Uzo.”
It worked. Gem deflated at once, and his cheeks flushed anew. “Yes, I … well, he is very …”
“He is,” said Loren, nodding. Uzo was indeed a beautiful young man, though she had never felt the same connection towards him that she had with Chet. Or with Niya, whispered her mind, though she quickly banished that thought. “But unless it has happened without my noticing, I do not think that you have said anything more to Uzo than Annis said to you for a long while.”
“You have not missed anything,” said Gem with a sigh. “I may think very highly of myself—and with good reason—but I hold no illusions about Uzo. He scarcely seems to notice me, and when he does, he seems to regard me mostly with annoyance. And besides, how old do you think he is? What would he want from one who is scarcely more than a boy?”
“You are not much younger than I am, and Uzo is not much older,” said Loren. “Yet I see what you mean. He is a soldier, after all, and from what little he has told us about himself, I do not think a great romance is something he desires.”
“Well, I long for such a romance enough for the both of us,” said Gem. He looked up at the sky as if searching for strength. The firewood almost fell from his hands. “But I suppose that is my lot. I think every great scholar, and artist and warrior—and sometime medica—only lives a more complete and fulfilling life if they have suffered a great unrequited love in their youth.”
Again Loren’s hand twitched, itching to slap the back of the boy’s head. “No doubt,” she said instead. “It seems almost a requirement.”
Her thoughts went to her dreams again, the way they so often did these days. She saw Gem’s terrible snarl, the way his face twisted in a rage she had never seen there in the waking world. Her head twitched as she felt his teeth tearing at her throat.
She cut down another branch. But after she put it atop the pile, she took the firewood from his arms and set it down on the ground. Then she took Gem by the shoulders and turned him to face her. He looked up at her—though they were getting near to a height of each other now—and they remained that way for a little while, studying each other in silence.
“You know that I care for you, do you not?” said Loren. “You are one of my dearest friends. I will never stop looking after you.”
Gem’s brow furrowed. “What under the sky are you talking about? It is my job to look after you, not the other way around.”
Loren shook her head. “Your wit is one of my favorite things about you. But be serious for a moment. I do not jest.”
His mouth worked. Without warning he leaped forth, wrapping his arms around her in an embrace.
“I know it,” he said. “And you may be my favorite person in all the world. And that is quite a statement, as I have seen so much of it.”
She patted his hair gently. “Good. I never want you to forget it.”
Gem drew back and looked up at her, and she saw recognition in his eyes. “This is about your dream. About how you have seen me attack you.”
Loren nodded, suddenly nervous to speak.
“Then take my vow, though I have given you one before. I vow never to do you harm. I would end my own life first.” He cocked his head and pursed his lips. “Though I would rather not do that either, if it is at all possible.”
Loren smirked and embraced him again. “And I command you never to do so. I only wanted you to know how high of an esteem I hold you in. As long as you know it, I am satisfied.”
He bounced on his feet and stooped to gather up the firewood. “Then be satisfied! Only we should be getting back, for I am sure the others will not be happy until they have had a chance to warm their frozen limbs.”
She smiled and hung the hatchet at her belt, leading him back towards the camp. But a shadow remained over her heart. She had told Gem of her dreams, yes. But she had left one thing out, something she had only realized recently. Whenever she saw Gem turn vicious with rage and attack her, he had been a grown man.
It means nothing, she told herself. Do you trust your dreams more than the boy at your side?
Loren glanced at him and hoped she believed her own answer.
TWO DAYS INTO THEIR JOURNEY, the road began to wend through the western foothills of the Greatrocks. The skeletal trees grew fewer and farther between, giving way to an open but hilly landscape that must have been brilliant green in summer, but was now a dead, dark brown where it was not covered in snow. After four days of hard riding, they emerged through a great cleft in the earth onto a highland, and there they came to Bertram at last.
The city had been built at the confluence of two rivers that came leaping down out of the Greatrocks to the east. The waters joined to form the Fanrong, which ran west to Dorsea’s coast to meet the western sea. No kingdoms contested that coastline, and Dorsea drew great wealth from its fertile lands. Eventually, that wealth spread through the rest of the kingdom by way of the river.
They paused for a midday meal of rabbit that Chet had shot that morning. While they ate, they gazed down at the city. Gem leaned forwards suddenly and pointed. “Is that the King’s road running through the city?”
“It is,” said Shiun, nodding. “Bertram was the capital of Dorsea for hundreds of years. When the Dark Wars ended and the last Wizard King vanished, the High King took some of Feldemar’s lands and gave them to the Dorsean king—or, you might say, returned them to her. They were Dorsean lands in the beginning, or else the kingdom would not have earned its name, for it would have bordered only two of the oceans.”
Gem’s eyes widened as he stared at her. “The last Wizard King? What do you mean they vanished?”
Shiun paused for a moment, and she looked at the boy carefully. “It is not something that is widely known, and it might have been better for me not to mention it. But the last Wizard King ruled in Feldemar, and held her kingdom long against the other eight. When the war turned against her, she vanished. The High King Andriana searched everywhere, but never found her. Underrealm lived in fear of her return for many years, but that is now centuries past. She died long ago, though we may never know where. In any case, when the northeast lands were reclaimed, the Dorsean king moved the capital to its original home in Danfon. Therefore Dorsea has had two capitals, but they are both on the King’s road, in accordance with the ancient edicts.”
Loren stared at the scout. She did not think she had heard the Mystic woman speak so much in all the time they had ridden together. “I thought you were a woman of Dulmun.”
“I am, but I was stationed in Bertram for a number of years,” said Shiun. “In that time I learned something of its history.” She bowed her head and tore another hunk of rabbit from the bone, looking slightly embarrassed.
They reached the city just after nightfall. Loren feared they might find the gates closed, but they stood open. The war with Dulmun was far away, and Bertram had no reason to fear any attack. A constable at the gatehouse asked a few questions, but when Uzo and Shiun flashed their Mystic badges, the woman quickly waved them on.
“You should have a badge,” Gem told Loren as they rode through the gate.
Loren frowned. “What sort of badge?”
“A mark of office,” said Gem. “You are not some simple traveler. You are the Nightblade.”
She gave a quick glance around in case anyone was close enough to overhear, but the street was mostly empty. “I have a writ with the High King’s seal,” she said in a low voice. “That is good enough.”
Gem lifted his chin. “It is not as impressive, certainly.”
To Loren’s surprise, Uzo snickered aloud at that. Gem beamed for the rest of their ride through the city.
They found an inn with good stables for the horses. In the common room, Loren bought dinner and a few bottles of passable wine. They had not had the opportunity to eat well since leaving the city of Dahab in Feldemar, and that seemed a lifetime ago. Loren thought a decent meal might be good for the others’ mood—and mayhap hers as well. It took half the coin left in her purse, but she tried not to think of that. Once they found Wyle in Bertram, she hoped she could sell some of her magestones to replenish her reserves. And if nothing else, she could find a presence of Mystics in the city. Her identification from the High King would be as good as a bank note to them, and they would fill her purse to bursting. They would send word to Kal, but Loren could leave Bertram far behind before he found her.
In the middle of their meal, she turned to Annis. “How might we go about finding Wyle?”
Annis thought hard, and then gave a quick glance at Uzo and Shiun. “The only thing we know about him for certain is that he traffics in certain goods beyond the King’s law. But we cannot simply walk into a jeweler and ask for such a man.”
“A jeweler? Why a jeweler?” said Gem.
Annis arched an eyebrow. “They are familiar with the transport and safekeeping of small but very valuable objects. It makes them particularly suited to smuggle similar goods.”
“Can we not simply ask for Wyle by name?” said Chet. “He does not need to know what we wish to speak to him about.”
Gem and Annis rolled their eyes in unison—then they each saw the other doing it, and there was a moment of uncomfortable silence.
“That is not quite how it works,” said Annis, a flush in her cheeks. “Smugglers do not like strangers who ask about them. Too often, such people are the King’s law in disguise.”
“How does one meet a smuggler, then?” said Loren.
“By personal introduction,” said Annis. “A friend who knows the smuggler brings in a new contact. If Xain were here, he might be able to help us, but he is not.”
“So we must find someone with whom we can establish trust quickly enough to get such an introduction,” said Loren. “That seems a tall order.”
Annis sighed. “It is. These circles are carefully guarded even in the meanest of towns, and Bertram is a grand city. Still, if we promise—or at least hint—that there may be a considerable amount of gold available to our contact as a reward …”
“Very well,” said Loren. “We will rest well tonight and start tomorrow.”
They went to bed soon after their meal, and rose before dawn. In the morning, Loren faced a dilemma. She had to leave someone in the room to guard their possessions. During their travels so far, that person had been Annis, but now she needed Annis for the negotiations. Gem was streetwise beyond compare, and could be of great use in the city. Shiun knew something of Bertram already, and Loren wanted Uzo in case things came to a fight. That left Chet, and she did not think he would enjoy being left behind. But when she proposed it to him, he accepted quite easily.
“I am the best choice,” he told her, giving a small smile. “Besides, how could I complain about being allowed to rest? We are all road-weary. If anything, I feel guilty that the rest of you must remain on your feet while I sleep the day away.”
With the matter settled, the party moved out into the city. Loren had not been able to see much of Bertram during the night, but now its splendor was laid before her in the dawn. It was nowhere near as grand as the High King’s Seat, but it rivaled Dahab for both its size and its proud history. The buildings were crafted with exquisite care, with solid white walls and glistening red tile roofs. Contrary to many cities she had seen in her travels, this one seemed to have been laid out with careful consideration. Streets did not twist and turn with the land, but had been laid out in a careful grid that made navigation easier. The roofs peaked the same as many in Dorsea, and very similar to the ones she had seen in Danfon in her dream.
Shiun led them towards the part of town where the jewelers lay. All the crafters’ shops clustered near to the river, where the workers could easily dispose of the refuse and rubbish of their daily work. Annis carefully considered the jewelers one by one, and stepped into only the ones that seemed exceptionally fine.
“Would it not be better to try the poorer ones?” said Loren. “Surely the less reputable shops would be the ones to associate with someone like a smuggler.”
Annis arched an eyebrow. “Do you think so? There is a great deal of coin to be made in dealings beyond the King’s law, at least until you find the noose around your neck. Those who walk such dark roads know it, and they like to spend their coin while they have the chance.”
Loren smirked and deferred to Annis’ judgement. But though they entered many shops, and while Annis dropped many broad hints that they had “very valuable gems” to sell, they did not seem to have any luck. The shop owners did not seem to take the hint, except for one or two who vigorously denied dealing in cargo they called “too valuable.” When Annis pressed the point, they asked Loren’s party to leave, no matter how much coin was offered.
After their fifth such attempt, Loren was beginning to grow nervous. “Some of these jewelers almost certainly understand what we are talking about,” she told Annis. “But they are nervous to speak to us for some reason. Do you not think they might send word to Wyle that we are searching for him?”
“There is little we can do about that,” said Annis. “We must hope that we find someone more amenable before Wyle catches wind of us.”
Loren sighed and nodded—but then she came to a sudden stop in the street. The others paused, looking at her curiously.
“Loren?” said Annis. “What is it?”
Only a few paces away was a building. It had a plain wood door and a blue sign with a yellow hammer. It was the smithy she had seen in her dream, and in miniature on the map—and now it stood before her in Bertram. Loren felt a sensation that had become too familiar, a wild churning in her stomach and a disorientation that made her dizzy.
“I think we should look here,” she said, pointing to the smithy.
Annis looked at it and frowned. “This place? It is a smithy. If I read its sign right, a steelsmith, though they may deal in silver as well. But they do not traffic in gems, and that is where our interest lies.”
“Yet I think we should investigate,” said Loren. She gave Annis a look. “Something about the place looks familiar.”
Annis’ eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at Gem. He looked from her to Loren, and the three of them nodded at each other.
“If you are finished passing messages back and forth with your eyes, mayhap we should go inside?” said Uzo. His tone was carefully neutral, but Loren thought she heard an air of exasperation behind his words.
“Very well,” said Loren. “Annis, lead the way.”
They went in. The smithy was larger than it looked from the outside, for the room stretched far back, mayhap twice as large as most of the other buildings. On the other end of the wide workroom, Loren saw another door leading to the street on the other side. With such an impressive presence, she guessed this place had a great deal of business.
Near the room’s center was the smith. She leaned over a bench in conversation with a young man—one of her apprentices, Loren assumed. But when she looked up and noticed Loren’s party, she came to them at once. Her arms and chest were bare beneath a leather apron that covered her front, and every bit of her bristled with muscle. Her black hair was long but bound up in a folded ponytail—no doubt to keep it free from the heat of the forge while she worked. She spent a moment sizing the party up, considerable arms folded over her chest. Loren was reminded of Niya for an uncomfortable moment.
“Good morn,” said the smith. “Or near enough to afternoon, I suppose. I am Kanja, and master of this place. Are you here with business? I hope you do not wish to apprentice with me, for I have help enough, as you can see.”
“Not at all,” said Loren. “We are travelers who have come far on the road. Some of our possessions require repair. Bits and bridles, and things of that sort.”
