“It is not her legitimacy that concerns me, my friend. It is you.”
Orkid’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Marin had no choice but to send you here. He knew you agreed with his plan wholeheartedly and would never waver from our country’s cause. And though your years here have not blunted your love for Aman, they have given you time to learn to love this city and its rulers.”
“And why not, Amemun? It will soon be as much Aman’s kingdom as it is Kendra’s. But we must never forget the kingdom was built by those who came from here, not by our own people.”
Amemun nodded. “I don’t dispute any of this. But if things go wrong and do not turn out the way we have planned, then a time may come when you have to choose between your loyalties.”
“Aman need never doubt me,” Orkid said passionately. “I long for the day when I may return to my home.”
Amemun patted the chancellor’s hand, something no one had done since Orkid was a child. “I know. Keep your patience and your own counsel. The time will come, I am sure of it.”
“Praise God,” Orkid said.
“Praise the Lord of the Mountain,” Amemun replied, not entirely in jest. “Goodbye, Orkid. Keep our prince safe!” He spurred his horse into a canter and left the palace for the docks where a ship waited to return him to Aman.
“Journey well,” Orkid said quietly after him, and wondered when he would see his old friend again.
Chapter 19
They were tired and hungry, but Lynan and his companions walked without stopping across yellow meadows and slowly undulating hills under a bright clear sky until the Forest of Silona was nothing but a green border on the southern horizon. For the first time in over a week they felt free, more at ease than at any time since their flight from Kendra. They all wore smiles like badges of distinction.
The sun was low in the west before Kumul called a halt. They were on a low hill that gave them a good view over a wide, shallow valley stretching some ten leagues north to south and half that east to west. Along its middle ribboned a blue stream, partnered by a wide dirt road. From their vantage point it looked as if most of the valley was under cultivation, divided into small squares of various shades, the pattern broken occasionally by small hamlets of twenty or so houses and one large town not far from their position.
“Mostly orchards,” Ager observed. “This must be the Arran Valley. That means we’re seventy leagues from Sparro, about a week’s journey.”
“I remember this place from one of my geography lessons,” Lynan said. “This valley is famous for its peaches.”
“And its wine,” Ager added, licking his lips.
“And its archers,” Kumul warned them. “They can put an arrow through the eye of a raven at a hundred paces, so let’s stay alert. If anybody asks any questions, we spin the same yarn we gave the foresters.”
“You don’t think they believed us, do you?” Jenrosa asked.
“The point is, it’s a story we know, and if we continue to use it, we’ll get better at telling it. Just don’t get imaginative. Keep it plain, and if you have to invent anything, let the rest of us know so we can speak the same lie.”
“We’ll need new names,” Jenrosa said. “We can’t go around declaring ourselves to be Lynan, Kumul, Ager, and Jenrosa, poor peasants whose names and looks happen to exactly match those of four outlaws from Kendra.” The others agreed. “Then I’ll be Analis,” she said. “It was my grandmother’s name, so it will be easy to remember.”
“Then I will take my father’s name,” Ager said. “Nimen.”
“Well, I had no mother or father to speak of,” Kumul said, “so I’ll be Exener, the name of the village I came from.” He turned to Lynan. “You could you could take your father’s name. Elynd is common enough, and many boys born around the same time as you were named after the General.”
Lynan shook his head. “I wouldn’t feel right about it.”
“What about Pirem?” Ager said.
“No,” Lynan said quickly. “Never again.”
“Migam,” Jenrosa suggested.
“What?”
“Migam. It’s a nice name and it’s easy to remember.”
Kumul and Ager were looking at Lynan impatiently. “Yes, all right,” he conceded. “Who was Migam, anyway?”
“My mother’s pig,” she replied, smiling.
Kumul and Ager burst out laughing, and in the end even Lynan joined in. “I hope he was a noble animal.”
“He was small and hairy and he farted a lot, but he had his winning ways.”
Against the continued guffaws of the two men, Lynan decided to change the subject. “Shall we camp here tonight?”
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Ager said. “Let’s make for the town and see if we can’t get some food and shelter. There’s bound to be an inn or hostel there.”
“What do you suggest we use for payment?” Jenrosa asked.
“We can work for it. Places like this always need seasonal labor, especially in autumn. Besides, it might also be a good way for us to get information about recent developments.”
The others agreed, and less than an hour later they were walking down the town’s main street where they found they had three inns to choose from. “This is a market town,” Ager told them. “Some weeks the population here must treble.”
They went to the largest inn and were immediately met by a burly man no taller than Lynan, with a red face impaled by a generous nose. Watery blue eyes stared out beneath a well-furrowed brow, and thin lips barely protruded from a forest of whiskers.
“Lady an‘ gents, welcome to the Good Harvest. You’ll be wantin’ board? We have a wide selection of rooms for you to choose from—”
“We have no money to speak of, landlord,” Lynan said quickly. “But we would appreciate shelter and food for a night in exchange for any work you have.”
“Food and shelter for work, eh?”
“Only for one night. We are on a mission for our village to the capital and must depart tomorrow morning.”
“And what makes you think I have any work for you?”
“If you don’t, we’ll try one of the other inns,” Kumul said bluntly.
The man regarded the giant for a second, then Ager and his crookback. Eventually he put his hands up. “Not so quickly now! Yran did not say he had nothin‘ for you to do!” He rubbed his chin with one hand. “In fact, I’ve got wood that needs cuttin’, an‘ a beast in the outshed ready for dressin’.” He pointed a finger at Lynan. “You ever dressed a beast before?”
Lynan blinked. Was the man serious? And what kind of beast? Before he could open his mouth, Ager stepped forward. “I’ve carved up sheep and goats,” the crookback said.
Yran nodded. “Well, then, close enough to a steer, I expect. If you an‘ the big fellow do the dressin’, an‘ the boy an’ girl reckon they can cut all the wood into cords before it gets too busy tonight, you’ll have a good meal, a comfortable bed, an‘ I’ll even throw in a few ales in front of the big fire. If I’m in a good mood tomorrow mornin’, you might even get breakfast out of it.”
The companions accepted the offer, and Yran took them out back. There was a large pile of uncut wood against the rear wall, and nearby was the outshed. “You’ll find the tools you need in the shed, includin‘ an ax an’ a whetstone. Call me when you’ve finished.”
The ax was made for someone with bigger muscles than Lynan or Jenrosa, so Kumul agreed to do the wood cutting in exchange for Lynan helping Ager with the carcass. At first, Lynan thought he had the better of the deal, but when he walked into the outshed he started having doubts. The steer had been slaughtered recently, and its hide still smelled of blood and shit. Its cut throat grinned obscenely at him, and dried gore matted the animal’s fur. Seeing the massive weight hanging from a huge iron hook on the traverse beam, he realized how big a job lay ahead of them.