CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
As soon as his foot hit the ground in the Winter Quartaine Asher felt a rush of something he had never felt in his whole life. He felt an overwhelming sense of home. Like this was where he belonged, and where he should have been all these years. But that was strange.
This wasn’t the first time he had been in the Winter Quartaine. As a matter of fact, Asher had been there many times on various assignments, and not once had he felt the deep sense of belonging that had struck him so deeply to his core.
Pulling his jacket closed, his aim was to keep out the chill of the frigid air and yet upon reflection he didn’t really feel it. It was cold, yes, but nothing uncomfortable.
Looking around, his eyes danced over the signs hanging above the stores on the left of the little town and found one for a clothing outfitter.
He may not be feeling the cold now, but he was still essentially right on the border of the Quartaine. Inland, if that is where he was drawn to, would be a much different story.
Asher entered the store and within a few minutes he had all he needed to survive the harshness of the land. After being directed to the blacksmiths, Asher gave thanks for the information supplied and the clothes bought. It took just a few moments to find the entrance to the forge. He had no intention of walking any further. His new abilities may have no need to recharge but his body did, he would need to hire or purchase a horse.
Winter was the largest of the four Quartaine’s, and because of that, there was a greater distance to travel. He had no idea what he was looking for, only that he had felt drawn there and he needed to know why.
Asher was given directions to three of the closest cities in Winter, one of which held the court of the Winter Quartaine. The House of Forrester, home of the current High Protector, Cian Forrester, and those he surrounded himself with. By all accounts he was a fair ruler, at least that was the general consensus from what he had witnessed over the years. Perhaps if he was drawn in that direction he would have an opportunity to call upon the priests of Vlandel. Maybe if he brought Violet a token from her home Quart she would perhaps not be as quick to have him punished for deviating from the Guild.
Asher sat astride his newly acquired horse and tracked out to the second set of crossroads. To the left was the home of the High Protector and the residence of the priests of Vlandel. The road to the right would bring him deeper into the Winter Quart and towards one of the southern temples built to worship Frenlorn, God of Winter.
Since stepping onto the land in Winter the pull has waned a little. It almost felt like it was taking a breath. But Asher had no time to wait, because the quicker he found the source, the quicker he could get his ass back to the Guild.
He settled himself, closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. It didn’t take long for him to feel it. The tug of awareness was once again pulling him and it appeared it was pulling him towards the left, towards the priests.
The hour grew late, and Asher had no choice but to stop in a little town. It was small but it had a little inn and that was all he needed, but it had taken him offering to pay double what the room was no doubt worth to secure it for the night.
The little establishment was busy, as a matter of fact, each town and village he had passed through thus far had also appeared to be the same. He hadn’t thought there were any festivals this time of year but perhaps he was mistaken.
Luckily for him a bath was included in the extortionate price he paid for the room. He hadn’t even waited for the maid to leave before beginning to strip out of his clothes. He had one leg in the iron tub as the door snicked closed behind her. Quickly washing his body, ridding himself of the stench of his time in No Man’s Land, he rested back and took a moment to process everything from the night before.
So much had changed in such a short period of time. It was almost disorientating. After soaking until the water began to cool, Asher got dried and changed. His next task would be to procure food, he was starving.
He left his satchel in his room and made his way down to the inviting dining area and settled at a table in the corner.
Multiple solid oak tables surrounded the area. He was surprised he was able to find an empty table in the back of the room. It was small, but big enough for him and his needs.
Animated chatter rushed to his pointed ears. Multiple voices entwined with each other, even with his enhanced hearing Asher couldn’t decipher one conversation from another. Lit orbs floated above each table illuminating the room in a comfortable light, the atmosphere warm and inviting.
He was starving, he hadn’t eaten since the night before. But having been so ill and most of the contents from his dinner that night had come back up Asher felt as if he hadn’t eaten in ages. His stomach grumbled, he wanted food, and it wanted it soon.
“Alright my love? What can Marigold get you this evening?”
Asher tilted his head, his gaze resting on the buxom female at his side. She was dressed in a white wench shirt with a burgundy, figure hugging half corset. A long skirt matching her corset flowed down and rested just above her ankles revealing soft leather boots covering her feet. Her light brown hair was bound at the nape of her neck, the bow securing it matching the color of her skirt.
“Well, Marigold. I’d like a bowl of stew, some bread, and a tankard of your finest ale if I may.” Asher glanced past the hostess to the filled room, each table circled by fellow travelers. “Tell me sweetness, is it normally so busy here? The last time I traveled through, this was a sleepy little place.” Asher gave a small nod of his head indicating the other filled tables in the room.
“It’s for the funeral of course.”
“Funeral? Did one of the lords pass away?” Asher smiled warmly.
“No love, worse than that I am afraid.”
She left him sitting to call his order out to the cook and retrieve a full tankard before returning to his side.
“Our beloved High Protector died last night. Ya know, I know I shouldn’t say, but there is talk that he was murdered.” Her voice lowered slightly, covered by the other voices that surrounded them.
Asher’s eyebrows rose in shock, “Murdered you say?”
Even as he spoke, Asher’s mind was racing with questions. Was it carried out by a Guild member? If so, who? He was the best the Guild had, this was the type of job that would normally be saved for him.
Anger boiled in him at the idea someone else would be given the jobs he was trained to do and one he did so well. Perhaps his illness the night previous was connect to the Guild member assigned to it. Had someone wanted him out of the way so they could be given the assignment?
Marigold leaned in giving him an eyeful of her bountiful cleavage. She cupped his ear and whispered, “My sister works in the kitchens within the court and she said, that one of the maids told her he was found in his study and there were signs he was poisoned. Now who would do a thing like that?”
Yes, who indeed?
He schooled his features and tilted his head to see if there was anyone listening to them talk, but everyone was too wrapped up in their own shit to pay attention. “Isn’t he the first High Protector to die in just over one hundred years?”
A bell rang to her left and she moved quickly only to return a moment later with Asher’s food, “Is he now? We don’t really pay much attention to the other Quartaine’s here in Winter. We have enough going on at home without chasing the tales of the other lands.”
She chuckled softly as she placed a spoon on the side of the plate.
A warm smile pulled on Asher’s lips as she wiped down the table. Resting her elbow on Asher’s shoulder she quipped, “You hear from one of those courts, my love?”
He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, he would sleep tonight and tomorrow he would venture into the court. Asher may not have been the one to do it, but he could at least go see if they had covered their tracks.
“I’m afraid not, Marigold. Just traveling through on business.”
So the High Protector of Winter was dead, and they suspected foul play. That was interesting and unheard of. Not many would have gotten close enough to the male to be successful. Whoever did it was talented.
“I don’t know what your business is, but you might find it difficult as the Protector’s court has issued a period of mourning. It started this morning and is to carry on for the next two weeks.” And with that impart of information she was gone, flitting from one table to the other serving each as she went.
Asher sat quietly, watching those around him as he ate. His gaze touched each person in the room just long enough to mark their standing in society and their wealth but not long enough to draw unwanted attention.
There appeared to be fae from each of the Quartaine’s in the little inn. It reminded him of the diversity within the Guild. The Winter Protector it seemed had been well liked, kind to his people and to his peers in the other Quartaine’s.
Asher finished his food and settled his tab before returning to his room. He had been on the move since early morning, and now that his belly was full, he craved a soft bed and warm sheets.
The new magic buzzed and vibrated just under the surface, like a living, breathing thing waiting to be used, and his inability to contain it, left him feeling bone weary.
The old High Protector was being laid out for his people to pay their respects according to Marigold. Seeing as he was here there would be no harm in going along, gathering whatever information he could for the Guild while continuing to follow the pull he was feeling deep within his being.