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

“When was the last time you were in Telfer lands?”

Quickly I added the time up in my head—not the true answer, of course, but the time it would have taken us to get here from Tokana if I first rode into Feldemar and then traveled in haste.

“What is the date, my lord?”

“The eighteenth of Yanis.”

“Then it was over a month ago,” I said.

Lord Matara nodded. “That is as I thought. There have been recent developments that I have only recently been made aware of. The High King has sent word to the nobility across the land, asking us to be especially alert for strangers passing through our domains. But if you are supposed to know why, it would be proper for you to hear it from your own lord, not from me.”

That put a tremor in my heart. And despite myself, I could not keep from asking the obvious. “And yet, my lord, if you are supposed to be suspicious, why did you allow us to enter your council chamber?”

“Because you came with Victon,” he said. “And I have verified that this is Victon. I have my own wizards, and though you did not notice them, they probed your party for magic as you entered, to ensure he was no weremage in disguise.”

“A wise measure,” said Mag.

Lord Matara glanced up at her, looking annoyed for a moment.

“Forgive her, my lord,” I said, glaring over my shoulder at Mag. “She has been a family friend for so long that she has grown somewhat lax in decorum, and she is such a skilled warrior that my lord tends to overlook it.”

To my immense relief, he smiled at that. “I suppose there are some in Opara whom I treat the same—Victon among them, though that is for his wine, and not his skill in battle. Though I have heard that that was prodigious in earlier days.”

“Nearly an age ago now, Rangatira,” said Victon, giving another bow.

Lord Matara smiled before turning back to Mag. “If you are so skilled a warrior, I would enjoy sparring with you sometime, if you remain in Opara long.”

Before Mag could say something else idiotic, I replied, “I am afraid that is not our plan. We wish to find and eliminate this rogue weremage, and then to return home as quickly as we may.”

He nodded. “Fairly said. Very well. If you have been hunting this weremage for almost a month, there is little chance she has anything to do with the matter the High King warned us about. That is reassuring, but it also means I cannot spare my personal attention for the matter. I will send for my lead ranger to assist you.”

He lifted a hand in a clear gesture of dismissal, though a kindly one. I bowed, fist to my head once more, and ushered Victon, Mag, and Dryleaf from the room.

“Sky above, Mag, would you please try to keep at least a modicum of respect?” I said, once the page had escorted us back to the waiting chamber and the door was closed.

“I was plenty respectful,” she said. “And I took his measure before I spoke. That was a man who respects bravery and a good laugh.”

“She is right,” said Victon with a chuckle.

“He seemed an honorable man,” said Dryleaf. “I could hear a strength in him.”

“Strength, and wit, and many secrets,” I said. “I knew him, when I was young, before I had even seen fourteen summers.”

“Before your wending, then,” said Mag. “No wonder he thought you looked familiar.”

“The years have altered my appearance at least as much as the wending,” I said. “Not all of us have retained our youth so well as you.”

She gave me a brittle smile. Dryleaf sighed as he settled back in his chair cushions. “It is good for you that you were not recognized,” he said. “It seems you do not have as much to fear in your homeland as you thought.”

But I was not entirely convinced. Certainly, here in Opara, it was far less likely that anyone would recognize me than it would have been in Tokana. But all it would take was one member of my family—even distant kin—and then I knew word would make its way back home. To my mother.

I feared to think what might happen then.

Victon spoke up. “This is where I should let you go your own way, I think,” he said. “I know little of these matters.”

“Of course,” said Mag, clasping his hand and pulling him into an embrace. “Thank you for everything, Victon. We will try to see you again, if we can. Will you be all right, getting back to the farm on your own?”

“I told you I can mount my horse,” he chuckled. “Besides, the Rangatira’s servants are always willing to help me.”

“Then thank you again,” I said. “May the sky smile upon you, and the moons light your way through the dark.”

“I enjoyed our time together more than any I have had in a good long while,” said Dryleaf, reaching out to allow Victon to take his wrist. “May the time before our next meeting be short, and may the reunion be joyous.”

“With your presence, of course it will be,” said Victon. “I would give much to have you tell more tales and sing more songs for my family.”

“Nothing would please me more,” said Dryleaf. “Once this business is taken care of.”

“Of course,” said Victon. Then he took Dryleaf’s shoulder and gently placed his forehead to the old man’s. “Until next time.”

He left. We settled ourselves into chairs to await the arrival of the lead ranger.

“I was interested in that secretive business the Rangatira mentioned, about the news from the High King,” Dryleaf said, once the chamber had settled to silence again.

“It must be the Shades,” said Mag.

“That was my guess,” said Dryleaf. “Yet Conrus thinks our weremage has nothing to do with them. I wonder just what Enalyn told the