The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper (25 page)

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Authors: Mel Odom

BOOK: The Quest for the Trilogy: Boneslicer; Seaspray; Deathwhisper
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The horse whickered, stamped its feet and blew.
As Juhg looked at Raisho, he realized how much his friend had grown and learned in the past eight years. The Raisho of old would have been more concerned about missing a night's sleep or trying to figure out if there was any way to find gold through the scarecrow.
Sometimes Juhg missed the Raisho of old, and it saddened him to think that one day he would miss him altogether.
Your thoughts are too dark
, he told himself. So he forced a smile and said, “I'm ready when you are.”
“Oh,” Raisho said, “I've a feelin' ain't neither of us ready for what Craugh 'as involved us with.”
 
 
Shortly after midday, though the rain never relented and Juhg never felt the passage of time through a forest that constantly dripped from unending rainfall, they reached Deldal's Mills.
“Looks quiet enough,” Raisho commented as they followed the well-worn trail toward the town.
Juhg didn't comment.
“'Course, a quiet place is where bandits and assassins works best out of.” Raisho eased his cutlass in the sheath he wore down his back.
Out on the Steadfast, the ferry between the two banks of the town bumped over the rolling water. Mule teams drew the ferry either way across the river, taking passengers as well as cargo. At noon it made a delivery every working day to the mill workers, supplying lunches that the mill owners paid for then charged the workers for.
“Where are we goin' once we reach town?” Raisho asked.
“The Wayside Inn.” Juhg adjusted his hood to keep the light rain out of his face.
“This Minstrel Ordal will be there?”
“In all likelihood. If not, we can send word or meet him somewhere.” Juhg's body ached with the constant motion of the horse. He looked forward to sitting by a roaring fireplace.
 
 
“Minstrel Ordal?” The tavern owner looked over Juhg's head. Juhg had to tiptoe slightly to look over the counter in the Wayside Inn. “I haven't seen her today, but she should be along with the evening crowd.”
“‘She'?” Raisho repeated.
The tavern keeper was a portly man with a beard and a wandering eye. He'd introduced himself as Fhiel, but most of the other patrons seemed to call him
Jolly. Juhg assumed it was because the tavern keeper laughed at all the jokes he was told, no matter how old those jokes happened to be.
Fhiel nodded and looked a little confused. “She. That's right. Haven't you met Minstrel Ordal?” Suspicion hardened his features.
“No,” Raisho said.
“I have,” Juhg replied. “But it has been a few years. The last Minstrel Ordal I saw was a man.”
A broad smile split Fhiel's face. “Ah, well then, kind sir, you're in for a treat, you are. No one quite plays the harp the way this Minstrel Ordal does.”
Juhg paid for ales for Raisho and his men, then got a tankard of hot mulled cider for himself. “We'll wait for Minstrel Ordal. If you'll just let her know we're here.” He put coins on the countertop.
With a practiced move, Fhiel scooped the coins away. “Perhaps you'd like something to eat while you're waiting.”
“No, thank you,” Juhg answered. “We'll eat when we buy supper for Minstrel Ordal.”
“Good, good.” Fhiel rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I'll make sure the bread's baked fresh by then, and that we have plenty.” He ran his good eye over the group of sailors with renewed appreciation. “You look like a hungry bunch. Nothing like cold rain to bring up an appetite.”
Juhg took his mulled cider to one of the tables near the large fireplace. Logs blazed in the hearth as he shed his cloak and hung it from a coat tree in the corner. Sinking into one of the big, stuffed chairs, he sipped the cider and let out a contented sigh. Once more among civilization, in front of a fire and with a warm drink in his hand, the fight with the scarecrow seemed far in the past.
Raisho sat across from him. “I thought ye said Minstrel Ordal was a man?”
“I did,” Juhg agreed. “In my experience, he always has been in the past. But I guess things change.”
“How did Minstrel Ordal change from a ‘he' to a ‘she'?”
“Minstrel Ordal is an hereditary title,” Juhg explained. “Usually it's passed on from father to son. I guess this time there was no son to carry on.” He sat staring into the fire for a time, then got out his journal and started working.
It didn't take long before his actions drew the attention of the inn's guests.
“Halfer,” a thick, bull-necked man bellowed across the room. “What do you think you're doing?”
“Writing,” Juhg answered.
It feels so good to be able to say that!
But some of the old fear stirred within him.
“Writing?” The bull-necked man stood. He looked like a logger, his arms and back big and strong, and his hands marked with scars from knives and axes. “Is that a book?” He said it like an accusation.
“Yes.” Juhg looked up. “It is a book.” He took pride in that fact.
“Are you stupid?” the man bellowed. “Are you trying to bring the goblinkin down on us? If they find we've got a book here, they'll likely burn the town down around our ears.” He started across the room. “I don't know where you got that, but you need to toss it into the fire. Toss it into the fire right
now
!”
“No,” Juhg replied.
“Then I'll do it for you.” The man came at Juhg.
Casually, stretching smooth and quick as a great cat, Raisho shot out a foot and tripped the man. By the time the man hit the floor, the sea captain had his cutlass out and the point resting against the big man's throat.
The big man froze at once.
Three of his companions shifted in their seats and started to get up.
Immediately, Raisho's men loosened their blades in their scabbards.
Tense silence filled the tavern.
“I wouldn't,” Raisho said in a carefully measured voice, “was I you. We've come a far piece under 'ard times, an' we didn't come 'ere to be 'andled like rough trade.”
The men stood for a moment, obviously trapped by their pride. They didn't like being bearded in their own tavern.
“This 'ere's me friend,” Raisho declared. “A learned friend who knows more'n any of ye will ever learn if 'n ye devote the rest of yer lives to it. I'm not in the 'abit of lettin' me friends go unaided, an' I won't see 'is position disrespected. 'E's a Librarian. The Grandmagister of the Vault of All Known Knowledge. An' if 'n ye 'aven't 'eard of 'im yet, ye will.”
One of the men looked at the others. “What's a Librarian?”
Both his companions shook their heads. Still, confronted by the hard-eyed sailors from
Moonsdreamer
, they resumed their seats.
“Books ain't nothin' to fear no more.” Raisho took the cutlass from the logger's throat. “They're good things. Things worth respectin'. And I won't stand fer it to be any other way.” He glared back at the man on the floor. “Do we 'ave us an understandin' then?”
The man shot silent resentment at Raisho for a moment. Then he grudgingly nodded. “Yes.”
“Ye can get up, then.” Raisho caught Fhiel's eye at the bar. “We didn't come 'ere for no trouble, but we've 'ad some what give it to us on the trail 'ere.” He nodded to the loggers' table. “Set 'em up with a round on me.” Reaching into his coin purse, he took out a silver coin and flipped it to the barkeep. “Let 'em drink that up.”
Looking somewhat relieved, Fhiel pulled ale from the cask behind the bar. “Yes sir.”
The logger on the floor got up but didn't look at Raisho or Juhg. He returned to his table and the free ale. The men talked in low voices. Juhg overheard “Grandmagister” three times. He was aware of being the object of covert scrutiny.
“Do you think that was wise?” Juhg asked in a voice that carried only to Raisho.
“No, 'twasn't wise at all.” Raisho grinned. “We're 'ard-lookin' men, scribbler. 'E should 'ave 'ad 'imself at least twenty more men afore 'e come over 'ere a-threatenin' the way 'e did. They're loggers, not trained warriors.”
Juhg sighed. “That's not what I meant. I was talking about making an announcement about me being the Grandmagister and about the Vault of All Known Knowledge.”
Raisho laughed. “I thought ye were in Shark's Maw Cove to convince all them people they should be a-buildin' schools.”
“I was.”
“An' ye were talkin' about the Library.”
Frowning, Juhg said, “You know I was.”
Grinning under the shadow of his hood, Raisho looked around at the inn's patrons. All of them quickly looked away rather than risk accidentally meeting the sea captain's fierce gaze.
“Don't ye think they'll be talkin' about ye after ye're gone from 'ere?”
Juhg's cheeks burned.
Raisho laughed at his discomfort in good-natured humor. “They'll be talkin' about ye.”
“I'd rather they didn't equate violence with an education.”
“Really?” Raisho shifted, obviously enjoying himself. When they'd lain fallow onboard
Windchaser
, Raisho had often instigated arguments just to draw conversation from Juhg. The fact that he possessed a canny mind and a quick facility for learning had always made him a worthy opponent. “Wasn't it Baomet Sunkar that attributed much of education to invadin' armies what brought new learnin' back to both countries?”
In disbelief, Juhg looked at his friend. “You
have
been reading.”
Shrugging, Raisho said, “It's a way of easin' long voyages.”
Smiling in deeper appreciation of his friend, Juhg returned his attention to his journal. The cheery fire warmed him.
 
 
“Grandmagister Juhg.”
Startled, Juhg looked up from his journal. A young woman with long red hair and her father's honest brown eyes regarded him. Her smile was open and friendly. She wore a yellow blouse with alabaster fringe and tan breeches. A feathered red cap sat on her head at a jaunty angle. She carried a pack over one shoulder and a small harp in one hand.
Gladness touched Juhg's heart and momentarily lifted the grave doubts and fears that his work on the journal barely kept at bay. He closed the journal, capped his inkwell, and put them both into his pack. He stuck the quill he'd been using behind his ear.
“Yurial!” Juhg exclaimed as he got to his feet and opened his arms. The young woman came to him eagerly, but he was surprised again at how tall she was. She had to kneel to take him into her embrace.
“I'll be Yurial to you,” she said, “but to everyone else, I'm the Minstrel Ordal.”
“Of course, of course.” Releasing her, Juhg stepped back and looked her up and down. “You've grown.”
Yurial laughed in delight. “I have. There was no alternative, I'm afraid.”
“You were just a girl when I last saw you.” Juhg waved her to one of the overstuffed chairs.
“That was twenty years ago, Grandmagister.”
Juhg thought about it. Keeping timelines of outside things—dynasties, science, and other fields of study—was simple, but his personal timelines often blurred. One year seemed to leap headlong into the next.
“Twenty years brings about a lot of changes,” Yurial said.
“It does. And don't call me Grandmagister. You're my friend.”
“You have that title of office,” Yurial said. “I wouldn't take it from you through casual address.”
“Forgive me oafish friend,” Raisho said, stepping forward to introduce himself. “I'm sure that sooner or later 'e would've remembered I were 'ere.” He doffed his cloak to bare his head and smiled. “I am Captain Raisho, Master of
Moonsdreamer
, currently in port—”
“—at Calmpoint,” Yurial said. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Raisho.”
“Ye seem to find out things pretty quickly,” Raisho observed.
Yurial smiled. “Generally, if it happens in Calmpoint, Deldal's Mills, or a dozen other towns around here, I know about it.” She sat in the chair Juhg had waved her to.
“We came straight from Calmpoint,” Raisho said.
In that moment, Juhg realized why Raisho was being so inquisitive. “Raisho, Yurial didn't have anything to do with what happened to us last night.”

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