CHAPTER 15 #2
I took a deep breath. “I asked you to do all of this and didn’t explain why. You trusted me. I appreciate that trust more than I can express.”
Reynald’s face was like a stone wall. No emotion at all. I had a vision of the empty barrel and him getting up from the table and walking away.
“Reynald told you that I know other people’s secrets. I do. I also know some of the future.”
Will raised his eyebrows. Lute gave me a skeptical look. Shana glanced at Gort. Her face said What did you get me into?
So far this was going awesome.
“So is that like visions?” Will asked.
“Not exactly. I know a version of the future. In that version Hreban rises to power and the kingdom burns. I’m trying to stop it. If anyone finds out about me, I will be in danger. This knowledge is valuable, and someone like Sauven, Everard, or Hreban would kill to possess it.”
The skepticism was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
I took a swallow of my tea for courage. “Gort, you are not supposed to be here.”
He glanced at me. “Where am I supposed to be?”
“Getting ready to march on Falcon Point.”
Gort’s mouth dropped. He caught himself, but it was too late. I had finally managed to shock Gort Magnar.
Shana pivoted to her husband. “Falcon Point?”
Her voice was soft and mild. Across the table, the two brothers went perfectly still.
Gort reached out and patted Shana’s fingers with his huge hand. “A small fort in the north Middle Fields. Quick job, easy money.”
Shana turned to her sons. “Did you know about this?”
They shook their heads.
“I didn’t tell them,” Gort said gently. “I didn’t tell anyone. I hadn’t even signed yet. We were just talking.”
Shana took a long, slow breath. “Who is the recruiter?”
“Filderon,” Gort said. “You remember him. We worked with him before.”
“You promised me that you were done.”
Gort cleared his throat. “We needed the coin.”
Shana didn’t say anything.
“It was going to be the last one,” Gort said.
“That’s what you said the last time. And the time before that.”
“This time, it would be,” I said.
The table went quiet.
Shana met my eyes, and suddenly I had the urge to back up with my hands in the air.
“What will happen at Falcon Point?” she asked.
I drank a bit more of my tea. My throat had gone dry. “Filderon is recruiting people for a short campaign to settle a land dispute between two nobles. He is offering generous rates with a third of the money up front on signing.”
“Strange,” Will said. “Last time getting money out of him was like pulling teeth.”
“What’s with this sudden generosity?” Lute said.
“It was last-minute, and the client who hired him was desperate,” Gort said.
“Filderon is lying,” I told them. “The client who hired him doesn’t want any of this to come back to them, which is why Filderon is requiring everyone to bring their own gear. The company can’t look like an organized fighting force. They must resemble bandits.”
The more I talked, the scarier Shana looked.
“The company will leave for Falcon Point in two days. Gort will suspect that something is off when Filderon refuses to fly any banners. By that point it will be too late. On paper, Falcon Point is owned by a minor noble. In reality, that minor noble is Dreantia Yolenta.”
Gort stopped patting his wife’s hand. Lute swallowed. Will’s face turned grim.
Dreantia was the head of the Yolenta Family. It was her barrel sitting on the tarp.
Attacking a fort owned by the head of a Great Family was writing your own death warrant. Especially attacking a fort that belonged to the Keepers of Iron. Their cavalry was the heaviest in Rellas. Their crest bore a hammer, both the symbol of their craft and a promise of their retribution.
“What happens next?” Shana asked, her voice flat.
“A day into the march, Filderon will send a scout to warn Falcon Point’s defenders that bandits are about to attack. The garrison will ask Dreantia for reinforcements. She will pull a company of knights from Kryss Britin, a town half a day’s ride from Falcon Point.”
The Magnars listened, food forgotten. To my right, Reynald’s expression had grown dark.
A mercenary company, no matter how well trained and supplied, was no match for the Yolentas’ knights.
Even if Dreantia didn’t dispatch her best, even if she sent her second, third, or fourth best, they would mow through the mercenaries like wild horses trampling a field of weeds.
“Filderon will throw the company against Falcon Point and clear off during the charge. Dreantia’s knights will arrive, crushing the mercenaries between themselves and the fort.
Most of the company will die in the battle.
Gort will survive, but he will be captured with a few others, convicted of banditry, and executed. ”
Clover sucked in a sharp breath.
“His body will be thrown into a mass grave at the foot of the fort. I’m so sorry.”
The kitchen went as silent as a tomb.
“Well,” Shana said slowly. “We can’t have that.”
The brothers jumped to their feet at the same time.
“Sit down!” she snapped.
They sat.
“Why?” Shana asked me.
Now that was an excellent question.
I drank more tea. “Kryss Britin is a trade hub for Yolenta goods going north. The goods come off the ships and caravans, are given a quick inspection, and then are shipped to Kryss Britin, where they are inspected again and sent to their final destinations. That is where this barrel was headed.”
I nodded to Gort. “Time for your maul to shine.”
He looked at Will. “Do you want to do the honors? You’ve earned it.”
My hands shook. I hid them under the table.
Will got up, walked over to the barrel, grabbed the maul, and swung. The big war hammer smashed into the wood, right in the middle. The barrel creaked but held.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Hit it, don’t tap it,” Lute said. “It’s not an ale keg.”
Will made a face and swung again. Wood cracked like a gun shot. The barrel burst, spilling salt on the tarp amid shards and splinters. In the middle of the salt heap, five smooth gray ingots reflected the light.
Relief washed over me, so overwhelming I almost passed out. I was right. I was right, I was right, I was right. I hadn’t screwed up. I would do a victory dance, except if I tried to stand right now, I’d probably fall over.
Reynald rose and picked up an ingot. He hefted it in his hand, examined it, and placed it on the table. “Gray iron.”
There were many kinds of iron in Rellas.
Hard iron was for tools because it was strong and durable.
White iron was for the mages because it was soft and pliant and took enchantment well.
Blue iron was for armor because it was light, resilient, and didn’t rust. Gray iron was for weapons.
It was tough and flexible, and it held a sharp edge the longest.
Everyone stared at the ingot. Gort picked up a smooth brick and let it fall on the table with a heavy thud.
Reynald turned to me. The expression on his face was indescribable.
There was admiration in his eyes, surprise, and something more I couldn’t quite place.
He was looking at me like I was a magician who’d made an elephant disappear in the middle of a crowded street.
I would remember that look in his eyes for the rest of my life.
I allowed myself a small knowing smile. That’s right, Sir Reynald. Drink it in.
“I don’t understand,” Gort said. “The Yolentas own the iron mines. Why are they smuggling ingots in barrels of salt?”
“Dreantia Yolenta has an older brother,” I said. “Normally the oldest sibling heads the family, but Diodor doesn’t care about wealth or profit. He cares only about working with metal. I’m not even sure he understands the full value of money, but Dreantia does.”
“He makes the blades, and she makes the coin,” Shana said.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Diodor’s daughter, Indora, is ambitious and impatient. Dreantia has her on a short leash, and Indora wants her father to take over the family, so she can run it instead of her aunt. But she lacks support, so she needs to borrow someone else’s hands to shove Dreantia aside.”
“What about the iron?” Clover asked.
“I’m getting to that. There is a reason why the Yolentas are the Keepers of the Iron, but not the Lords of it.
All iron in Rellas belongs to the Throne.
The Yolentas are allowed to work the mines, but the king determines how much of the ore they keep, how much they sell, and to whom. Especially when it comes to gray iron.”
To Rellas, gray iron had the same strategic value that plutonium did in our world. Sauven wanted to know exactly what happened to it.
“Dreantia is skimming off the top,” I said.
They looked at me with blank expressions.
“She underreports the mine yields and secretly sells the excess outside of the kingdom. She is choosy about the price, not the buyers.”
“That’s treason,” Reynald said. “Sauven will rip her heart out.”
“Dreantia knows that. She’s been bribing the right people for years. Even counting all those bribes, she makes a nice profit, and all of it goes directly into her secret vault.”
I drank the last of my tea. This would be a longish explanation.
“Indora discovered that her aunt was embezzling and sensed an opportunity. If this theft is exposed, Sauven will lose his shit and Dreantia will lose her life. Indora’s father would be the natural successor.
Reporting the theft would do no good. Dreantia pays her bribes on time, so if Indora tried to turn her in, nothing would happen and Dreantia would be informed.
Indora must draw attention to the embezzlement without leaving herself vulnerable. ”