The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Garrett Robinson (poetry books to read TXT) 📖

a horse for Victon. Nuru and Zuri were there, and they grinned at us as we emerged into the strengthening daylight.

“A good morn to you all,” said Nuru. “Did you sleep well?”

“Wonderfully,” said Dryleaf. “And I thank you for your courtesy.”

“Mag,” said Victon, “will you do me the honor of helping me to the saddle? I learned how to do it myself after the leg, but it is still easier with help. And I could ask for no greater honor than being squired by the Uncut Lady.”

“Squired, is it?” said Mag with a wry smile. “Of course I will.”

She took his belt and helped heave him up, while I went to aid Dryleaf. Once the two of them were mounted, Mag went to her mare, and I went to Nuru, who was holding Foolhoof’s reins. The gelding eyed me suspiciously.

“Did he give you any trouble?” I asked Nuru.

“Not a bit,” said Nuru. “He was most well behaved.”

“Oh, you will obey others, will you?” I said, glaring at Foolhoof even as I rubbed his nose.

He snorted on me, and a bit of phlegm splattered on my hand.

“Do you see?” I asked Nuru, shaking it away. “This is what I must suffer through.”

Nuru laughed. Then he held forth a hand. I took his wrist and shook. “It was an honor to meet you, as well as a pleasure,” he said. “I am always pleased to meet another ander person, and more so when they are a companion of the fabled Uncut Lady. And a stalwart warrior in their own right,” he added quickly, as I gave him a sour look.

“Well spoken, at least at the end,” I told him. “Mag has stayed in touch with your father over the years, but I have not. I will do so from now on. And once I have a place where he can send me letters, I would be most pleased to hear from you as well.”

The boy’s face split in a brilliant grin. “I promise I shall write until you are sick of me.”

I laughed and climbed atop my horse. With Victon leading the way, we rode from his home towards the city. The streets were nearly empty, for it was not yet time to go to market, and all the farmers were already out in the fields. Victon took us to our destination with the unswerving air of one who had made this journey many times before.

In the center of Opara stood the Rangatira’s keep. It was surrounded by a strong stone wall, the back side of which pressed close to the river. Guards patrolled the top of the wall, but they had the sluggish look of soldiers who almost wished for trouble, simply so they would have something to do.

The guards opened the gate once Victon explained why he had come. I looked down at Oku.

“Kip, boy,” I said.

Oku looked up at me and whined.

“I am sorry. But we will return soon.”

He trotted off to the side of the gate and lay there, watching as we vanished through it. Attendants took our horses, and Victon led us to the great doors of the keep, which also stood open. A page there raised her chin and looked upon us expectantly.

“I have come to see the Rangatira, bearing a gift I promised him,” said Victon, raising the bottle of wine. “And I speak on behalf of my friends here, who have come to beg a boon.”

The page looked us over. “Very well. We will take your weapons.”

“Of course,” I said, unbuckling my sword. I left my bow, for it was unstrung, hanging on my saddle. Mag looked somewhat disgruntled, but she handed over her spear and shield. The page handed the weapons to a doorman before leading us into the keep’s great hall.

There were tapestries on the walls inside, as well as many fine weapons with gold inlay—pieces for ceremony and show, but they looked fit for battle if need be. Lord Matara clearly had not forgotten his primary purpose as an agent of war. The furniture was solid and sturdy even when it was beautiful, and the doors looked well-kept and easy to bar against intrusion. Through the hall we were led and into a small chamber off to the right. There were many cushioned chairs inside, and the page beckoned us in.

“I will deliver your request to Lord Matara,” she said. “He is in council at the moment. You will be summoned when he is ready.”

Mag looked exasperated, but I spoke quickly before she could express it. “Of course,” I said. “Thank you for your assistance.”

She gave a thin-lipped nod and vanished, closing the door behind her. I helped Dryleaf over to one of the chairs and eased him down into it.

“Oh, this is a fine seat,” he said with a sigh. “Though not as fine as your couches, Victon.”

“I despise all this waiting.” Mag wore a scowl, and she did not sit, but stood in the center of the room with her arms folded. “You nobles seem to have perfected the art of making people wait on your beck and call.”

“I have not been a noble for some time,” I said.

She was about to respond when the door to the chamber opened again. It had only been a few moments, and so we all turned to it in surprise. There stood the page again, looking almost as startled as we were.

“The Rangatira is ready to receive you,” she said, as though she herself could not quite believe it.

I barely kept myself from asking, Already? But Victon gave us a knowing grin. We helped Dryleaf stand again, and followed the page back out into the main hall and up a short flight of stone steps to a large door at the end of the room.

Beyond lay the Rangatira’s audience chamber. It was the bottom floor of the keep’s central tower, and so it was circular, with a wall towards the back that obscured the staircase leading up. In front of that wall