Krys opened the door and stepped back inside carrying the pitcher of water, a loaf of bread and hand full of half ripe strawberries. Gwaynn looked at him with a slight smile.
Krys smiled back and shrugged. “Found the kitchens,” he said by way of explanation.
They ate and drank in silence, each feeling much better as they worked their way through the food, and when they were finished they stood as one.
“Let’s go and find our kali,” Gwaynn said.
“Yes, I feel naked without them,” Krys answered, as they headed down the stairs to the main level.
When they hit the bottom of the steps the desk area was empty, but as they approached the old man came out of a back room. He paused, his hesitation obvious and was about to turn around and go back into the room he had just left, but Gwaynn quickly vaulted over the desk and grabbed him by the arm.
“We would like to speak with you,” he said, wincing from the pain the fast movements caused him. Krys moved around and went through the low swinging doors to join them behind the desk.
“What about?” The man said gruffly, but clearly nervous. Gwaynn nodded to Krys, who grabbed one of the man’s arms pinning it behind his back as Gwaynn forced the other up onto the desk.
“What is this?” The old man protested, trying to struggle, but the two strong young men knew all about leverage and pressure points so that his attempts to escape were useless. He soon gave up.
“We would like to find Emm and Dot,” Gwaynn said softly, not aware of the fact that he would have made a fine Executioner.
“Who?”
Gwaynn drew his knife with one hand and squeezed the old man’s wrist until his fingers parted and then slammed his palm flat on the desk. The old man stared at the knife, it was not overly large, but from his close proximity he could tell it was very, very sharp.
“The women?” Gwaynn asked again.
The old man shook his head, and without hesitation Gwaynn brought the knife down and severed the man’s index finger at the second knuckle. The fingertip jumped up and then rolled off the desk. The old man screamed and tried to pull his hand back, but Gwaynn held him easily. In his mind he thanked Tar Nev and his heavy katas and logs.
“Four to go,” Gwaynn whispered in the man’s ear just as his screaming died down. The man was still breathing heavily and Gwaynn leaned in, even closer.
“The women?”
“I…I don’t know,” the old man said, and Gwaynn severed his middle finger. This finger did not roll completely off the desk. The old man screamed again, and redoubled his efforts to get away. He still did not succeed.
“What’s your name?” Gwaynn asked.
“Wha…What?” the old man asked, staring fixedly at the bloody stumps on his hand and then the piece of severed finger. The bone could be clearly seen through the slowly oozing blood.
“Your name?”
“Taylor,” he answered. “Please.”
“Three more Taylor,” Gwaynn said in such a friendly voice that Tar Navarra would have been proud, “at least on this hand. Where are Emm and Dot?”
Taylor gulped and glanced into his young tormentor’s eyes. He saw no mercy there. “They will kill me,” he pleaded.
Gwaynn smiled. “And you think I will not?” Taylor saw the smile and believed him.
“They’re in the loft above the feed and grain store. If you go out the back you will see the stairs,” Taylor said deflating, only wanting to cradle his throbbing hand and make the pain go away.
But Gwaynn did not let him go and held him in place for such a long moment that Taylor was beginning to think the boy intended to kill him even though he had told him the truth.
“If you are in on this little scheme you will stop it now,” Gwaynn said and something in his manner told Taylor not to argue. The boy had metal there was no denying that, and Taylor, old and hardened as he was, found the youngster truly frightening. “I will find out, and then you will lose more than a few fingers.”
With that, Gwaynn released Taylor and moved back around the desk.
“Who are you?” Taylor asked despite his wish for these two young men to be gone. Gwaynn stopped and turned back to look at the old man. He glanced at Krys, who shook his head negatively, but Gwaynn took a deep breath.
“I am your King. I am Gwaynn Massi,” as he spoke he walked closer to the desk. The old man took a step back in spite of himself, his eyes wide, searching the face of the youth before him. It did not take long before recognition dawned.
‘Yes,’ Taylor thought, remembering his one trip to Solarii so many years ago, when he was newly married, and of a much younger age. Arnot was just a prince then and not yet the King or father to the boy before him, but after Gwaynn’s revelation, Taylor could see the resemblance. It was so great in fact, that he was surprised he failed to see it before.
“My…M’lord,” Taylor gasped, now truly frightened, bowing his head and eyes before the royal person before him. But Gwaynn reached slowly across the desk and took hold of Taylor’s chin and gently raised his face.
“You are the first, in all Massi to know the truth,” Gwaynn said softly, looking directly into the old man’s eyes. “The future of Massi now lies with you as well as me.”
It took a moment for the import of what Gwaynn was saying to sink in, but then the old man shook his head in protest. “M’lord…I would never,” he stammered.
“I know Taylor,” the King of Massi answered, and smiled. “I may call upon you again some day,” he added then turned. “But first we must educate a few more of my countrymen.”
And with that he and Krys left the room, heading for the back of the inn.
Taylor stood there, transfixed as thoroughly as if he had gone through a powerful religious experience. The King has returned. He had spoken with him, stayed at his inn, shown faith in him. Taylor was moved. He was changed in more ways than a few lost fingers, and in his mind, losing a few digits was worth it.
ǂ
Samantha stood helpless, completely frozen by terror, as the Deutzani soldiers approached. Closer and closer they came until she was sure she would be found out. They would spot her, or if they came but a little closer they would clear the bushes and spot Bull, mindlessly grazing behind her. They were just fifty yards away, close enough that she could make out their individual faces as she peered through the branches of the bush she knelt behind. But then lighting flashed overhead and a great deep crash was heard soon after. Bull jumped, tugged the reigns loose from her grip, and moved a few more paces away as Sam held her breath and prayed that he would not bolt.
“Not there,” she heard a voice say and her attention turned back to the approaching men. “Not in the trees. Are you all daft?”