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

Mag and I had when we first arrived here, or when we encountered those Telfer rangers in the mountains, is a rare one. Here in Lan Shui, Yue only distrusted us because the town was in danger. In the mountains, the Telfer guards only suspected us because they were on high alert, for the trolls were threatening their home. The kindness with which we were received at the gates of Opara, and at Kahaunga, is the norm, not the exception. In times of peace, people are given to hospitality, and even charity.”

Sun looked nervously around at the town again. “Then what sort of welcome do you expect in these times?”

Albern gave a little frown and did not answer.

He pulled his horse to a stop in front of an inn. Sun read the sign over its door: The Sunspear. But she could not reconcile Albern’s stories of the place with the sight before her. This building looked almost brand new. And when Albern saw to his horse’s lodgings and led her inside, there was a young woman behind the bar, not the older man from his tale.

“This looks … rather different from what you told me,” said Sun quietly.

Albern paused in his advance across the room. “Oh, yes, it would. Many buildings in Lan Shui were destroyed in the Necromancer’s War. The innkeeper who used to own it—the one we met, and who I told you about—was killed. But the inn was rebuilt, and his daughter owns it now. That is her behind the bar. If you find us a table, I will fetch us a meal and some drinks.”

Sun did as he asked, finding a spot in the corner. Albern soon arrived with a savory stew that made her mouth water, as well as a mug of beer for each of them. For a time they said nothing, only tucking into their fare and drinking deep. After a quarter-hour they both leaned back in their chairs at the same time, sighing.

“I asked after Dawan,” said Albern. “She is here. I have sent word that we arrived, and she should come to see us shortly.”

“That is good,” said Sun. Then she frowned. “I think.”

Albern chuckled. “It is. I only hope it does not take too long. I wish to see to our other business outside of town before the end of the day.”

Sun’s stomach did a little turn. “I suppose I wish to do so as well.”

“It is all right if you are a little nervous,” said Albern. “But come. I will return to the tale to take your mind off it, if that is all right?”

“Of course,” said Sun.

“You mentioned earlier how strange it was that Kaita escaped,” said Albern. “But you have little inkling, I think, of just how right you are. To understand, you need to know how I left my home in my youth, when at last I had decided to do so. I should not have escaped. You might call it sheer luck that I managed it. But I think I was meant to get away that night, and it is a tale worth telling.”

I had just reached the age of nineteen. There were two storms that night—one outside our stronghold of Kahaunga, and one within. It was my mother, you see—Lord Thada of the family Telfer, Rangatira of Tokana. She was furious about something or other.

No. That is not fair to her. Because of how she treated me, I sometimes speak lightly of the very real problems she faced as a Rangatira. In this case, a group of Feldemarian bandits had ventured into our pass. My mother had sent a party of rangers to drive them out, and three of our soldiers had fallen. One had been a captain who she had particularly favored. I think she had been meaning to take him as a husband—you will remember that my father was long dead by this point.

In any case, I was in my room, and I was grieving, though for quite a different reason. I had had a hunting hound for much of my youth, a fine beast I had called Kowi. He had died that day. A few days before, while we were out on a trail, he had slipped and fallen when a shelf of land collapsed underneath him. The fall, and the rocks that landed on him after, broke most of his body. I carried him home, and there he lingered for a few days. Our master of hounds had urged me to put him out of his misery, for he had no chance of surviving. I refused, because I loved him, and because I was still very young, and unwise about some things. So when Kowi had finally died, I was abruptly saddled not only with the grief of his loss, but with the guilt that I had made him suffer longer than he had needed to.

It was in this state that my mother found me, alone in my room, my pillow soaked through with tears. I was drunk as well, for I had stolen two bottles of wine from the kitchen and gone through both of them. My sister Ditra was away on a diplomatic trip to the south, and so she had not been there to comfort me. I longed for her company—and so you can imagine my disappointment and dismay when I looked up at the sound of my door opening, and found my mother looking down on me instead.

“Vera,” she said, for this was before any of us knew I was ander, “I have need of you.”

For a moment I could only blink up at her. “What?” I said at last.

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. She crossed the room and pulled me up off the bed, giving me a shake. “I said I have need of you. You will need to ride out. Get some more useful clothes.”

“I … what are you talking about?” My