Chapter 3
Gaeren handed the tavern owner a slip of paper. “Any chance you’ve come across a traveler named Rildan? Looks a bit like this.”
The owner squinted at the drawing. The new priestess-in-training in Gahldric Valley’s Stargazer had drawn it after Gaeren had shared his memory with her. It wasn’t perfect because he wasn’t as skilled at giving memories as he was at receiving them, but it was good enough.
“Can’t say I have.” The owner passed the drawing back, then resumed wiping down the bar. The entire dining area was empty save for one man slumped at a stool, lost in his drink far too early in the day.
“If you hear of him,” Gaeren pressed, “could you send word to Gahldric Valley’s Stargazer? Or maybe tell him his daughter’s looking for him there?”
The tavern owner frowned. “I’m no messenger.”
Gaeren sighed, reached into the pouch at his belt, then threw some coin on the counter.
The owner snatched it up fast enough to prove he’d been waiting for it. “I might be able to remember that if a man named Rilban shows up.”
Gaeren stiffened, then added a final coin to the bar. “Ril-dan,” he emphasized.
The owner grinned and palmed it. “Yes, that.”
The door behind them swung open, filling the darkness with the Sun’s light. Riveran stepped in, scanning the room until his gaze landed on Gaeren. “We’d better get going.”
The tavern owner grumbled something about bird poop under his breath as he eyed the brown and white hawk sitting on Riveran’s shoulder. Gullet squawked right back at him, and Gaeren pursed his lips to hold back a grin. For once, the bird hated someone else more than him.
“Gahldric Valley’s Stargazer. Rildan.” Gaeren backed away from the tavern owner, trying to gauge if the man would actually remember.
“It might be easier to remember if you buy a drink,” the owner said.
“I gave you enough for five.” Gaeren was tempted to pull the man’s memories of the conversation and feed it back into his mind, but most of the humans in Lorvandas had been too frightened by his half-light magic for that to be useful.
It gave Gaeren a new appreciation for how Aeliana had grown up here.
She’d spoken about her kidnappers forcing her to do unspeakable things with her magic, but she hadn’t even mentioned the constant need to hide who she was.
The tavern owner waved him away. “I’ll remember. Just get that smelly pet out of here before he sullies the room.”
Riveran opened his mouth to argue, but Gaeren tugged on the sleeve of his tunic and pulled him through the open door before all Gaeren’s hard work came undone.
“That pub wasn’t clean enough for Gullet to nest in,” Riveran mumbled, getting a gentle nip on his ear from the hawk. He pulled off his hat, then used a small cloth to wipe the sweat off his nearly shaved head.
The motion drew Gaeren’s eyes to the black X marked on his friend’s forehead, the symbol of the lowest of criminals back in Vendaras.
The Lorvandans here might not know what it stood for, but it still made them uneasy.
Guilt pricked at Gaeren’s conscience. That mark was there because Riveran had helped him.
Riveran plopped the hat back on, hiding the mark once more.
“Let’s get out of this place,” Gaeren said. “No one here seems keen on giving up information.” He led the way to the edge of town, where they’d agreed to meet Cyrus.
While they walked, several of the people eyed them strangely, their gazes lingering on Gaeren’s short brown hair and the weapons they carried.
Pants and long sleeves hid most of the deep tan of Gaeren’s and Riveran’s skin, but when people drew close enough, it was unmistakable.
The people didn’t trust them because of the differences they saw.
How would the people react if they knew of their starblood?
If they knew Gaeren and Riveran hailed from Vendaras?
They passed through the small city’s gate, eager to leave it behind.
“There you are,” Cyrus called, scrambling up from his place at the base of a tree. His face broke out into a grin, shifting all his freckles into a new constellation. “I’m dying for the apple pie I know is waiting back home.”
Riveran elbowed him. “You sure you’re not dying to see the young priestess who made it?”
Cyrus rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t marry a woman just because she makes a good pie.”
Riveran snorted. “She would marry you just to make you more pie.”
Cyrus’ face turned red, but he merely shoved Riveran aside and twisted his hair into a knot while they walked. The slightly younger man still kept his red hair long like the way of a Lorvandan priest, but lately he’d taken to tying it up, claiming the summer heat was taking its toll.
After two moons of traveling around Lorvandas, they still weren’t any closer to finding Rildan.
They’d sent letters to Stargazers in the far corners of the country but made personal visits to those within riding distance from Cyrus’ home.
The excitement of being across the barrier and seeing a new part of the world had faded as their goal seemed more impossible.
Daisy’s kidnappers had claimed Rildan was dead. What if they hadn’t been lying?
“How many cities do we have left?” Gaeren asked.
“Dozens,” Cyrus admitted, brushing off his brown priest’s robes, which he’d taken to wearing again after returning home.
“We’ve only hit the northeastern regions, which is where Aeliana said she spent most of her life, but they traveled all over.
And if Rildan didn’t know where they were, he likely traveled just as much if not more. ”
“We should split up,” Gaeren said. “Cover more ground.” He avoided looking at Riveran, who had refused this idea every time Gaeren brought it up.
“I was actually wondering if one of us should return to Vendaras,” Cyrus said. “I don’t want them to worry. It would be good to give them an update and to get one in return.”
“What if the starbridge drops us off at Bamboo Island again?” Gaeren asked.
The only way across the barrier dividing Lorvandas from Vendaras was by using the golden arrow starbridge.
Gaeren still didn’t understand how it worked, but when Aeliana had used it several moons ago, it had brought her from Gahldric Valley in Lorvandas to Bamboo Island in Vendaras.
And when he, Cyrus, and Rildan had used it last moon, it had taken them from the Myndren Mountains to an island on the east coast of Lorvandas.
“It would take weeks to reach the Myndren Mountains,” Gaeren added. “If Rildan shows up here, we’d be stuck waiting for someone to return just to make the trek all over again.”
Cyrus grimaced. “Maybe we take Gullet? He could send word?”
“That would be a difficult distance for him,” Riveran said. “Possible, but not ideal.”
“It would be good to get an update though,” Gaeren conceded.
“Cyrus and I could stay behind and split up to cover twice the number of cities while you and Gullet check on the Recreants. If you think it’s too far for Gullet, you can travel south to Andel.
They’ll have dozens of ships heading north along the east coast, and you won’t have to worry about running into anyone from Elanesse. ”
Even saying the name of his family, the name shared by the capital city of Vendaras, gave him an odd mix of nostalgia and pain.
As the prince and second in line to the throne, he’d been set up to be his sister’s throne warden.
After all he’d seen, he knew his family shouldn’t be on the throne, but he wasn’t sure what the right solution was.
And he still loved his sister, despite the fact that he and Riveran had last left Elanesse as traitors to the crown.
Even if he wanted to return home, he couldn’t.
“Splitting up seems dangerous,” Riveran said. “What if we both return home, then send a new delegation to check in with Cyrus? If Rildan shows up, he can stay with Cyrus at the Stargazer until we return.”
This time Cyrus argued, unwilling to miss his chance to return to Vendaras.
They spent the remainder of the journey north to Gahldric Valley going in circles with their arguments.
When the Stargazer’s grounds came into view at the edge of the hill overlooking Gahldric Valley, Gaeren felt a pang of homesickness.
He wasn’t a stranger to the plains and valleys making up most of Lorvandas, but he missed the humid marshland he’d grown up in.
As they stepped through the Stargazer’s gates and made their way toward the buildings surrounding the tower, they were no closer to a decision, but the scent of cooked apples wafted through the kitchen windows.
“A piece of pie will help us all think more clearly,” Cyrus announced, and while Gaeren didn’t agree, he wasn’t about to turn down pie.
Gullet took off for the orchard to find his own dinner, and Bartholem greeted them in the kitchens, his slow gait keeping him from meeting worshipers at the entrance.
According to Cyrus, his grandfather had aged significantly in the six moons Cyrus had been gone.
He was old enough that it could have been natural degeneration, but Gaeren suspected it was brought on by the loss of his wife, who’d been killed by Aeliana’s captors.
“Did you have any luck today?” The shy priestess looked everywhere but at Cyrus as she handed him a heaping plate of apple pie.
“One man thought the picture looked familiar,” Cyrus said as the three of them sat at a table.
Gaeren’s ears perked up. Why hadn’t Cyrus said anything on the road?
“But then he showed me his son and said I was welcome to take the boy off his hands.”
Bartholem laughed and patted Cyrus on the shoulder. “Tomorrow is another day.”
Cyrus dug into his pie, but Gaeren and Riveran waited for the priestess to bring bowls of stew and plates of bread.
When they’d first arrived, Gaeren had thought it was a Lorvandan tradition to eat dessert before dinner, but he’d soon learned that was unique to Cyrus.
Or maybe just when his smitten priestess was baking.
Bartholem joined them, taking in half a bowl of stew and part of a slice of bread. His long white hair and beard only added to his frailness, but his face held the wrinkles of wisdom and his eyes the depths of experience.
“Bartholem, how would you go about searching for Rildan?” Gaeren asked. “If you were in our place, would you split up to cover more ground? Send someone home for aid? Continue traveling together to each city?”
Riveran leaned back, waiting for the answer.
“Splitting up might get you answers faster,” Bartholem mused, “but I would consider offering a reward. You could return to Vendaras for aid, whether it be for more people or more finances. While you’re gone, the people of Lorvandas will search for you, eager for the reward.
The resources you would have spent searching could be put toward payment for information instead. ”
All three men stared at each other, considering this new option.
“Are we draining the Stargazer’s resources?” Cyrus’ gaze took on a troubled look, but it didn’t stop him from pushing aside his empty dessert plate and reaching for his bowl of stew.
Bartholem chuckled. “You’ve all helped out enough here to earn your keep. But after Harvest Day, there will be little work to do and fewer resources to share.”
“I’m not sure we’ll find more in Vendaras,” Gaeren admitted. “I’m guessing Sylmar’s struggling to support the remaining army, and it’s not like I’m on good enough terms to ask my parents for anything.”
Bartholem stood, leaning on the table for support.
“I had an idea about that.” He shuffled to a covered basket near the door, and they all watched as he brought it back.
“I was cleaning out the storage closet, and the label on this long-forgotten basket seemed familiar. If I understood your stories of Vendaras correctly, these ought to be valuable.”
He lifted the cloth to reveal its contents.
Dozens of tiny trinkets glinted up at them, all in varying shapes and sizes. Some looked like miniature weapons, others like figures or food. Gaeren and Riveran both gasped and leaned away, but Cyrus ran his hands through the basket as if shopping for wares. “Are these what I think they are?”
Bartholem’s eyes took on a twinkle, and he sent a knowing glance Gaeren and Riveran’s way.
“The label said ‘starlocks.’”