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

Mag frowned. “That is a fair point. But we must have some way to ensure you are safe when we are not here.”

“You are worried about me?” said Dryleaf, smiling broadly. “You two are the ones riding out into danger.”

“And leaving you unguarded,” I said.

He waved his hand. “Why would the weremage care about me? Besides, this room is just next to the inn’s common room, and the lock on the door is sturdy. She could not hope to strike me here without causing quite a bit more trouble than she has seemed to seek thus far.”

“Very well,” I said. “But you must be wary. That ranger in Opara had many wise things to say about trust and weremages. We will establish a password, and you must never unlock the door for either of us until we have spoken it.”

“If it will make you feel better,” said Dryleaf, inclining his head magnanimously.

“Then we should set back out and continue searching the site of the trolls’ attacks,” I said. “Not today—it has grown too late. But tomorrow, and every day, until we have tracked down the weremage.”

“And ended her,” said Mag.

“So we all hope.” I paused, looking down at my hands as they rested in my lap.

Mag smiled. “Very well. Let us continue with our original plan. Back into the mountains tomorrow. The way will be easy without having to worry about Lord Telfer’s patrols rounding us up.”

“Easy,” I said with a bitter smile. “I only hope we do not encounter any trolls in those mountains. If we do, you will learn just how ‘easy’ they are to deal with.”

While we conferred at the inn, Lord Telfer was having her own discussion with Maia. It turned out that I had not, in fact, imagined her reaction when we told her of the weremage’s animal forms. For a long while after we left, she sat in her chair, chin resting on her fist, her eyes seeing nothing. Maia stood silently by, knowing it would be foolish to disturb her until she was ready for him. In the end she sighed and stood from her chair.

“Let us retire to my chamber,” she said. “We must discuss these matters.”

“Of course, Rangatira,” said Maia, giving a half-bow. He followed her to the back of the room, to the door leading to a staircase up to her private chamber. There Maia moved towards the chairs surrounding her table, but Ditra walked past them to her window, and Maia stayed on his feet. Another long silence dominated the room.

“Wine, Rangatira?” said Maia at last.

“Hm,” she said.

Deciding to interpret her answer in the affirmative, he poured two cups. She took a sip when he put hers into her hand, but her gaze remained fixed out the window. Maia joined her in looking at the valley. From this vantage point, high in the keep’s central tower, they could see almost the whole dale. The day was still cloudy and grey, and the sun was lowering behind them, but it still gave more than enough light to see signs of movement far below. Thousands of people milling together, going about their lives.

But Maia knew, though he could not see it, that there were refugees in the city, servants of his lord who had been forced to flee their homes, and who now choked the streets, the inns, anywhere they could find to sleep. Kahaunga looked much the same as it always did, but there was an unrest in the city now, a fear under the surface, and a tension that threatened to burst, like the snowy clouds in the sky above them.

For her part, Ditra’s thoughts were only partially for the city. Mag and I had brought her evil tidings, and she was pondering them. But apart from our news, she was thinking of me. She could not understand why her thoughts should so dwell on a quiet man in a brown cloak standing behind his companions, who were clearly leading our little mission. She had gotten a good enough look at me to know that I was half Calentin and half Heddish, but that was common enough, especially in Tokana.

In the end, her thoughts turned away from me to the weremage. A weremage who took the form of a brown mountain lion with a white tail.

Sky above, thought Ditra. After all these years.

At last she nodded, as though in answer to a question. Maia stood straighter. He knew his lord. She had decided something, or she was ready to do so.

“Yes, Rangatira?” he prompted.

“You have been seeing to the patrols and organizing the housing of those who have had to flee from the outer villages,” said Ditra. “You must give those duties to another. I require something else of you.”

“Of course,” said Maia. “What is it?”

“I need you to track down this weremage.”

Maia was somewhat surprised, but he hid it well. “As you wish. I shall be working with the newcomers, then?”

“No,” snapped Ditra, turning on him with such a furious glare that he swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. “No,” she said again, less angrily, taking a deep drink of her wine. “You must do this on your own. Find her, if she can be found in the wilderness. Find out where she is and what she is doing. Take no action against her until you have done this and reported back to me.”

“As you command,” said Maia. “But Rangatira … the newcomers are searching for her as well.”

Ditra lifted her chin as she regarded him. “Are you a ranger of the family Telfer, or are you not? I am certain they are capable fighters, if Conrus took them into his service. But they are strangers to this place. They do not know these mountains. You will find Kaita before they do.”

Maia frowned. “Kaita?”

Ditra went very, very still.

“The weremage,” she said after a moment. “They mentioned her name was Kaita.”

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