Chapter Three
“YOU LOOK THIN. YOU NEED TO EAT WELL to stay strong.” He placed four cookies on a glass plate and then handed it to me. “Eat. Wash it down with some tea. It’s not overly sweet.”
I nodded my thanks as he walked onto his balcony.
The sound of the sea was muted on this side of the castle.
Instead of the surf, the calls of several peach-faced parrots drifted into the open doors, along with the soft rattles of ravens.
The rookery sat atop the nearest tower. A fact I was sure played out in Le’ral’s choice of office space.
“What do you think of your dwarven escorts?” His deep voice flowed over a person like honey fresh from the hive.
His back was to me now, his attention seemingly on the rookery above us, but I knew better.
Wide shoulders tapering to a trim waist, the mature elf had aged incredibly well.
Even with the loss of his love, the previous king, he had borne up.
A bit more silver in his short brown hair, with a lingering loneliness in his deep brown eyes.
Many say he had never forgiven himself for the death of King Mirolar, as he was his right hand in all.
After the loss, he grew ever more vigilant in protecting the current king.
Many whispered over much so, but losing one monarch was not a tragedy any wished repeated.
So while his sight may be on something else, his keen attention was on his newest trainee.
“Tell me what you have observed of them during your meal.”
I swallowed my bite of cookie. “They seem well-kitted for mercenaries, which tells me they do well in their chosen fields. The twins are young, new to the legion if the lack of scars they bear is any indication. The female is clever, using her feminine assets to her advantage to befuddle men.” He made a sound of agreement but kept his sight on the rookery.
“The leader, Asdren, is older. Seasoned.” I plucked another cookie from the platter, took a bite, and chewed on it as I aligned my impressions of the head of the Sable Legion.
It was soft with a gentle taste of citrus.
“He carries the stride of a warrior, as well as the scars, but his demeanor is that of a sellsword. A biting aggression against the nobles who pay his wages, or so it seems to me.”
“Very good.” Le’ral turned from the balcony, his ebony half-cape swirling about him as he faced me.
He was all in black, as most would be here in the castle until Umeris was interred in the Stillcloud crypt in Renedith, beside his family.
“Asdren Grimmane was born into the highest-ranking mining clan. As the only son, he was immediately placed into a strict regime where he quickly learned the ways of the miners. He spent his formative years in the tunnels that go deep under the mountains, at his father’s side, eager to take his place when he reached his majority.
Then, when he was a young dwarf, his eagerness to be the next Grimmane head waned.
His predilection for other men drove a wedge into the precisely laid-out plans Banor Grimmane, his father, had in place.
There would be no marriage to a lass chosen by Banor, and his shame was then doubled when Asdren was seen in an intimate clinch with another young male of a lower house.
Banor sent his son into the queen’s service, positive that a military career would purge the rebellion from Asdren.
It did not. When his tenure was over—a ten-year span in which he gathered many accommodations for his service in the Ponto Plains skirmish as well as his diligence in training—he returned to his home, told his father to stuff his plans for him up his tightly crimped arse, and left the shale behind to make his fortune aboveground. ”
He took a seat on a settee, waving off my offer to pour him some tea. “He sounds like a formidable dwarf.”
“That he is, and not one to be taken in by the elite easily. This foursome will aid you greatly in your search for Coelum, as they are well known among the darker elements of Melowynn as well as in the dwarven city of Grommveldir. His reception among the dwarves will be mixed, but you’ll not be socializing with them so the snubs from the upper class will not be a problem.
He knows the mines as well as any who carries a pickaxe ever has. ”
“Understood,” I replied as I watched a few small bits of tea leaf float about in my cup. “Can you tell me what has taken place with the twins in my absence? There has been little information at the logging camp.”
“Ah, yes, that.” He sat back, crossed one long leg over the other, and leveled a look at me. “Have another cookie. This will take a bit of time.”
So I took another cookie. An underling such as me did not bicker with the Shadow Master. He began filling me in, his handsome face shifting between expressions of anger, sorrow, worry, and then back to ire. When he concluded his telling, he tipped his head slightly.
“You seem torn. Is it because Pasil has fallen in love with Teryn?” The question rattled me. Le’ral tsked me. “Your green eyes are far too expressive. They give all away.” I lowered my sight to the crumbs on my dirty breeches. I had yet to bathe.
“No, I just…was unprepared for such a radical change,” I lied, and not well, for I could feel the rush of blood to my cheeks. My freckles would be twice as bright as normal.
Le’ral took a moment to let the heat fade from my face.
“Beiro, there is no predicting when love will arrive or whom it will bring into its embrace. I have had one great love in my life, wholly unpredicted and vastly enthralling. I doubt I shall love another as I did him, but I am also humble enough to know the fates many times hand us things we least expect. Pasil is good for Teryn, and he for Pasil. You too shall find the right male for you when Danubia deems it.” I whispered a weak thanks for his remembrance of my goddess.
I had never had a deity before, and the knowledge that she looked over me brought me great comfort.
Now if only I could read over the scrolls of prayers Kenton handed out to us.
My family was not a clan who spent countless hours on our knees seeking forgiveness.
Being as poor as temple rats meant we did what we had to in order to survive.
Guilt and seeking repentance were as foreign to us as the tunnels under the Witherhorns.
“Until then, once the nettle of seeing a person you held an affection for with another fades, be happy for him. For there is no greater joy than to be held in the arms of one special person. When that warm embrace in the cold of night is gone, it is a chasm in the soul.”
“I will try,” I whispered, my stomach full of tea and cookies.
“That is all we can do. Now, I would ask you to pay attention to all the fine details of your trip through the Iron Gate. I know of no other elf who has been given access.”
“I might not be.”
“True, but I suspect Asdren will find a way to get you past the guards. Once inside, jot down what you see, who you speak with, any general information you deem important. We have a decent relationship with the queen, although I doubt you will be in her company. Still, any nits of knowledge are good nits, as the rumrunners of the coast like to say.”
“My notes may be…difficult.”
“Your notes are fine.” I knew better but was glad for the reassurance.
“Now you should go wash up and ready yourself for your dinner with your best friend. I shall send Click with you on your journey. Use him cautiously but often. Keep us informed of where you are and what you have discovered. I have sent some larks out to pick at breadcrumbs, but so far they have sung very little of note.”
“May I ask who this Coelum Cadere is that makes him so important to the king?” I knew it was forward to even ask.
Need to know is a favored term of the Shadow Master and his shady underlings.
A long, silent moment passed as he mulled over my request. “I ask because when I do find this Coelum, I will have to explain why I came seeking him. Hitting him over the head and then tossing him over my horse is how bandits work, not outriders of the king.”
“You make a sound case for your request. You are a sharp young elf and a trusted new member of our elite outriders, but I cannot pass along any other information at this time. Just know this target may be important to the king, the crown, and the kingdom. If he lives, the summons by the crown should be enough. If not, try other ways to persuade him. If all polite means of invite fail then a conk on the head does the trick.” His tone was light, but his expression was anything but merry.
I suspected that would be the reply I would get, but there was no harm in asking. I had no wish to steal this elf back to Celear, but if it was what I was told to do, then I would do it. I owed the king more than I could ever repay.
“Understood.” I rose, bowed, and met his sharp gaze. “I will do my best to bring this elf, or his remains if possible, back to Celear. Until we meet again.”