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

I could not help getting somewhat rankled. “The least you two could do is refer to Lord Matara and the High King by their proper titles.”

Mag waved an airy hand. “We leave such niceties to you nobles,” she said. “You just told me I have a poor grasp of decorum.”

Before I could argue further, a thought struck me like an arrow between the eyes. I grinned, prompting a confused frown from Mag.

“Mag,” I said, struggling through a throat that had suddenly gone tight. “If the High King warned the nine kings of the Shades, that means she received the message.”

She looked every bit as thunderstruck as I felt, her hands clenching to fists. From his place in the cushioned chair, Dryleaf turned his head back and forth, arching an eyebrow.

“Eh? What message?” he said. “You did not tell me you were on speaking terms with the High King.”

“Not us,” I said. “Friends of ours, ones who barely escaped the destruction of Northwood. They were trying to deliver news of the Shades to the High King, but they were pursued. We had feared for their safety.”

“I see,” said Dryleaf, nodding gravely. “Then I am happy for you both that they survived.”

“Mag, we know where they are,” I said. “We can find them. We can search for Ammon and find—”

“Of course we can,” said Mag, giving me a small smile—but a stern one. “Once the weremage is dead, we are free to go wherever we wish. We will find Loren then. I swear it.”

I felt crestfallen. In my joy over realizing that Loren had survived and fulfilled her mission, I had almost forgotten about the weremage, about anything but my sudden desire to mount Foolhoof and ride for Feldemar as fast as his legs could carry me. But of course, we had come this far, and there was still the weremage.

“Naturally,” I said. “After we have finished here.”

“And speaking of which,” Mag continued, “if the nobility knows of the Shades, it could become a problem for us. If the Rangatira seeks information about them, but he is trying to keep their existence a secret, then his servants might withhold information from us. It is understandable, of course, but contrary to our aims. But I know how to solve the problem.”

Before I could ask what she meant, the chamber door opened. In stepped a person whose golden badge marked them as the lead ranger. They were twixt, short and thinly built, with sharp eyes and hair cut only a finger away from the scalp. Their clothes were much finer than mine, but had clearly seen just as many miles and just as much wear. The tunic’s sleeves ended just past the elbow, and I saw scars and calluses on the fingers that told me at once this was an archer, and a well-practiced one.

“Greetings,” they said. “I am Tuhin of the family Matara. I serve the Rangatira.”

“His lead ranger,” I said, stepping forth and offering my hand. “Greetings, friend. I am Kanohari of the family Telfer.”

They took me by the wrist and shook, sizing me up for a moment. They had to look up into my face, for they were a head shorter. “Well met indeed. It is a long while since I met a ranger from Tokana.”

I smiled weakly. “And a long while since I met one from Opara.”

“I have met the Lord Telfer, you know. She came to visit some years ago. An honorable woman, though a hard one.”

This caught me so thoroughly by surprise that I was unable to respond for a long moment. I was terrified of my mother discovering my return, but I had managed to put thoughts of her aside—until Tuhin spoke of her so brazenly. A response seemed far out of reach, but I summoned it.

“She certainly is a hard woman,” I said at last, forcing a weak smile.

Tuhin chuckled. “Doubly so to her rangers, I imagine. Still, it seems to get results. When she came, she only brought Maia, her lead ranger, but he was a fine man. Rarely have I met a ranger with such skill.”

I began to get a sick feeling. I knew no one named Maia. It had been many years since I had spoken with my family, of course, but I had thought that my middle sister, Ditra, would have been the lead ranger. Had something happened?

But of course, when we were younger, Ditra had been more like me—nearly as “soft,” as my mother would have put it. I could well imagine that Mother might have decided not to elevate Ditra to the position.

Especially not after what had happened to Romil, my other, eldest sister.

“Maia is a fine man indeed,” I said, feeling as though I had pulled the words from the depths of a bog.

“If they set you to this task, you must be a capable warrior,” said Tuhin. “And if by any means I can help, I shall. Out of respect for them both.”

Though I felt sick, I nodded and waved to the others. “This is Chao, and my elderly friend is Dryleaf.”

“A pleasure,” said Dryleaf, holding out his hand for them to take it. “The Rangatira’s lead ranger! We stand in mighty company. Why, I would guess you have wandered nearly as far as I have.”

“I can only hope, Grandfather,” said Tuhin warmly. “Well met. Now, I hear we have a weremage to hunt. A dangerous prospect at the best of times. You should tell me all that you can.”

They beckoned us over to the chairs, which we moved to surround a table near the back of the room. Mag and I carefully explained what had drawn us here, though I took the lead in the storytelling, changing the details to match the tale that we had come from Tokana. They listened as I described a road east into Feldemar, which then cut south through that kingdom into Dorsea, and then circled back around to head north into Opara.

Tuhin frowned. “Why would she come back towards Calentin if