Jaroo, the druid, snorted. “I can do better than that. My apprentice, Shirral, will go with you. I will send her at dawn. She will provide the healing you need, and she knows the land well for several leagues in every direction.”
“My thanks, druid,” Melias said, nodding.
Terjon glowered at Jaroo but said nothing.
A healthy bit of competition between the two faiths, Shanhaevel noted with a silent chuckle.
“My lad Elmo can join you,” Hroth piped up.
A couple of other men grimaced, but they were careful to hide their expressions from the captain of the militia. “He’s a good lad, and he swings a mean axe.”
“I welcome him, then,” Melias replied. “I thank all of you for your help. At first light, we will pay a visit to the trading post, and then the company rides forth.”
There was general banter after that, and the meeting began to break up. Ahleage and Draga both excused themselves, Ahleage with a devilish grin on his face as he scurried through the door.
“So, how is that beef pie?” Ostler Gundigoot asked as the crowded room emptied, leaving only Burne and Melias still at the table. “I baked that myself,” he added proudly.
Shanhaevel glanced at the thick pottery dish where the pie had been. All that remained were a few smears from where he had mopped up the gravy with wads of bread. He chuckled and smiled at the innkeeper. “It was delicious, and I could eat another two.”
“I’ll tell Glora to fetch a couple more for you,” Ostler said. “I assume you’ll be taking a room with us tonight?”
Shanhaevel glanced at Melias for some sort of guidance, and the warrior nodded, saying, “We’ve all got rooms here. Ostler will take good care of you.”
“Then, yes,” Shanhaevel said, “I would like a room for the night, please.”
With that, the innkeeper turned and headed out, returning shortly with fresh platters of food.
As Shanhaevel began to put away his second helping, Burne smiled, a warm expression that reminded the elf of the way Lanithaine often looked. He glanced away, feeling sorrow washing over him once again.
Burne cleared his throat and spoke. “Lanithaine will be deeply missed, Shanhaevel. Melias and I both considered him a good friend and a staunch companion. He spoke fondly of you to me during the war.”
“I wish I had known,” Shanhaevel replied. “He never talked about any of this to me, and he never mentioned any of you. He merely rode off one day, telling me he had something to take care of and that he would be back soon.”
Burne nodded. “He thought you could have ridden with us back then, you know. He just couldn’t bear dragging you into a war. So he left you to take care of the folk in your village. He believed you more than able, even back then. If you are capable now of even half what he claimed you learned from him, I have no doubt you will serve our company well.”
“I’m very flattered. Thank you. I will do my best.” He suddenly felt a little embarrassed by both the praise and scrutiny. He hoped he would live up to everyone’s expectations on this expedition. He realized that he had already decided to become a part of it, never bothering to take time to mull it over. Of course, he told himself, because that’s what Lanithaine wanted you to do.
“Tell me,” Shanhaevel asked, changing the subject, “what was it like to serve with the prince? I never knew Lanithaine had met royalty, although I recall now that he seemed quite upset when the news came to our village of Thrommel’s disappearance.”
There was a long silence at the table as both Burne and Melias stared at their hands. Neither of them seemed eager to respond, and Shanhaevel grew uncomfortable, wondering if he had touched on a taboo subject.
“I’m sorry,” he began finally, “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right,” Burne answered at last. “You didn’t know.”
Shanhaevel frowned, puzzled, but he was loath to pry.
“I continued to serve with Thrommel after the war,” Melias said, his voice low. “I rode with him as part of his royal bodyguard. I was a part of the hunting party that was with him the day he disappeared.”
Shanhaevel could see that the soldier’s knuckles were white where the man gripped the table. The elf swallowed hard, unnerved by the passion building in Melias.
Burne took up the tale when Melias seemed unable to continue. “There is evidence to suggest that the temple leaders who escaped us at the Battle of Emridy Meadows somehow orchestrated the prince’s kidnapping. There’s still more evidence that the prince is still alive, somewhere. Melias has continued to serve the throne, even with the prince missing.”
“I’ve spent the last seven years searching for him,” Melias said. “I swore to his father, King Belvor, that I would.” The soldier sighed and released the table. “But the trail grows colder. It’s been seven long years.”
Shanhaevel nodded, trying to grasp what frustration and disappointment Melias must be feeling. “I am sorry I brought up such a sensitive issue,” he said, “but your loyalty and perseverance honors you.” He bowed his head toward Melias, trying to show some sense of his respect for the man. Finally, he shoved back his plate. “But now, I am weary from three days in the saddle, and tomorrow comes early. I think I’m ready for bed.”
“Yes, of course,” Burne said. “Come. I’ll get Ostler to get you a room.”
As he arose from the table, gathered his belongings, and followed the other wizard and Melias out into the common room, Shanhaevel noticed the trio of men nearby, still sitting and watching. As Melias led the way across the floor toward the stairs, the stranger with the topknot stood up, his crimson robes swishing, and stepped to block the warrior’s path.
“My name is Turuko,” the main said with a deep bow and a smile. His Baklunish accent was thick. “These are my companions, Kobort and Zert. Word has spread that you seek wealth in the ruins nearby.”
One of his companions, the one with the scar across the back of his hand, added, “We’d like in. What say we band together?”
Melias sidestepped the man to pass him. “We are not on a treasure hunt. Thanks, anyway.”
The Baklunish man’s smile faded, and he looked genuinely sad. “That is unfortunate, for there is much greater safety in numbers. It would be better for all of us to work together. In any event, we’ve been planning a foray there since before you arrived. Perhaps we will see you there.” He smiled again and resumed his seat.
Without a word or a backward glance, Melias started walking again, leading the way to the foot of the stairs. Ahleage and Draga, who had been at another table enjoying a last mug before retiring, fell into step right behind him.
“You may have trouble with those three, I’m afraid,” Ostler whispered as he led them up to their rooms. “They may try to reach the ruins first.”
“They are of no concern to us,” Melias said. “We will explore the moathouse, and if they try to interfere, we will deal with them then.”
As the group reached the landing, the front door to the inn banged open, and a young man stormed in.
“Hommlet’s under attack!” he shouted. “Lord Burne’s tower’s afire!”
5
“Damnation!” Ostler shouted as chaos erupted in the room.
Melias, Ahleage, and Draga moved toward the door, and before Shanhaevel realized it, he had fallen into step with them. He reached for his staff and gripped it in both hands as he followed them.
Out in the night, snow had begun to fall—huge, heavy flakes that fluttered to the ground, settling with a muted whisper, like fingers tapping softly against an overstuffed pillow. Other than that, the world was eerily quiet. The ground had already gained a thin covering of the stuff, a blanket of white that was quickly hiding the damp, muddy yard.
Shanhaevel faltered a step, surprised at this turn of weather. Snow? It’s not that cold. Certainly, the ground’s not cold enough for it to stick. He shuddered once, but there was no time to consider it further. A handful of villagers went rushing past, and just beyond a line of trees to the east, the orange illumination of flame hung in the night sky, diffused to a hazy glow.