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

It was a brilliant stroke, all the more so because I knew Dryleaf had made it up on the spot. If Ditra tried to investigate the truth of his words, she would find that yes, a cadre of Shades had indeed been found outside of Opara. As for the Mystics, they would be reticent to give any information about matters concerning a rogue weremage, whether or not they had already heard of her.

“You told my rangers something different when you entered the city,” said Ditra.

“Because Lord Matara told us that we were not to speak of the Shades to anyone but another Rangatira,” said Mag. She nodded to Maia. “And those they trust, of course.”

Ditra considered that for a long moment. I noticed Maia eyeing her out of the corner of his eye, though the man tried not to be obvious about it.

“Why has this weremage come here?” said Ditra at last. “What are she and the other Shades planning?”

“We are not certain,” said Mag. “But news has reached us of your recent trouble with the trolls. We think the Shades may have something to do with it.”

“I think you know little of trolls,” said Ditra, arching an eyebrow, “if you think they have allowed themselves to be influenced by humans—Shades or otherwise. Trolls will treat with us, but they will only take advice and counsel from among their own.”

“Of course it sounds unlikely,” said Dryleaf diplomatically. “We would say the same thing, if we had not heard of something like it before. Word reached Opara of the Shades doing something similar in Dorsea. They hatched a plan around a magic ritual, one that summoned vampires and drove them into a frenzy of hunger. A town near the Greatrocks was almost destroyed, and would have been, if not for the actions of a few brave heroes.”

Mag’s mouth twitched.

“Vampires?” said Maia incredulously. “No one can command those savage beasts.”

“Yet they did,” said Dryleaf, bowing his head. “I hope, then, that you can understand why we think they may have something to do with the trolls.”

“That is evil news, if it is true,” said Ditra. “Yet I have never heard of, and cannot imagine, any such ritual that would command a troll.”

“Nor have we,” said Mag. “Yet we suspect it all the same. It was one thing we hoped to learn on our expedition. If we are correct, it is a clear pattern—a strategy the Shades may be using in other places, in other kingdoms, even now.”

Ditra tapped her chin with one finger. “Stirring up creatures from the wilds to sow chaos and disruption … these are the tactics of a foe fighting a war of stealth and subterfuge.”

“Guerilla tactics,” said Mag with a nod.

“They cannot stand toe-to-toe with the High King, and so they instigate battles between her armies and other forces, to supplement their numbers.” Ditra slid her hands along the arms of her chair and pushed her shoulders back, stretching. “If this is part of their strategy, it will be very useful information in the coming days. I will send word of this to the king, and advise them to relay it to the High King.”

We all bowed deeply. “Thank you, Rangatira,” said Dryleaf. “You prove yourself wise beyond your years—or at least, so I guess from the sound of your voice.”

Ditra gave a little smile—almost, it seemed, against her will—and said, “Thank you, Grandfather.” Then her eyes swept across us again. “So you and the quiet one in the back are rangers?”

Dryleaf and Mag paused for a moment that stretched too long. I realized that they were reluctant to answer, afraid they would miss some intricacy of Calentin politics and make a misstep. Though I badly wished to hold my tongue, I spoke. “No, Lord Telfer. Simple soldiers. We have no marks.”

“So he has not fallen asleep back there,” said Ditra. I ducked my head lower, hoping it looked like I was embarrassed, and not trying to hide my face. “I can believe the two of you are soldiers, especially since you have Conrus’ writ.” She turned to Dryleaf. “But I think your fighting days are behind you, if you will forgive my saying so—was it Dryleaf?”

“It was, and it is, Rangatira,” said Dryleaf, smiling broadly. “And you are correct. I am one of Conrus’ advisors. In my youth I had many dealings with the Mystics, and I learned from them many secrets of dealing with rogue wizards. These two are sellswords working for hire.”

I winced, but it was too late. At the word “sellswords,” Ditra’s small smile vanished, to be replaced with a dour expression.

“Strange that Conrus would trust mercenaries with such an important task,” said Ditra. “Stranger still that he would relay to them the information he had received from the High King. Foolish, one might even say.”

“We have served him for many long years,” I said quickly. “The Rangatira knows he can trust in our discretion. Indeed, we would have joined his rangers long ago. But we were somewhat involved in a disagreement with him and the Rangatira Hauru of Tonga, and Lord Matara was reluctant to bring us into his service, for fear of causing offense.”

Ditra’s stern look did not relax any, but she did lean back in her chair with a sigh. “Sky save us all from politicking,” she said irritably.

“On which point we could not agree more,” said Dryleaf. “And I hope you will believe me when I say that I have rarely encountered two more worthy soldiers in all my years of being a councilor. And with that, I believe we have taken up as much of your doubtless precious time as can be spared. Though if you wish it, I would be honored to sing for your dining hall tonight, or any night that you would have me.”

She seemed to be more irritated than ever, though she still maintained a thin veneer of decorum.