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

Vera, for her part, looked chastised. It hurt Ditra to see it, but she steeled herself. She had not even been particularly harsh. Vera would need to withstand much worse than this, when she one day took Maia’s place as lead ranger, after he became Rangatira.

“Come,” said Ditra. “Sit.”

She guided Vera back to her chair by the desk, and then she sat on the girl’s bed. For a moment they waited there in silence, both staring at their hands, which each of them had folded in their lap. The silence drew on, long past awkwardness and into discomfort.

“Do you … do you want to be a ranger, Vera?”

Vera looked up at her, eyes wide. “Why, yes, Mother. Of course. You know that.”

“You have said so,” said Ditra. “But I have often told you that it is what I expect. I mean to ask … do you want to be a ranger? Would you, if I were not Lord of Tokana?”

It was clear the girl had not considered it before. Now she frowned and looked away, her eyes growing distant. “I think so. All of our rangers are certainly very dashing. And I am always happiest out in the wilderness.” She flushed and looked quickly at Ditra. “I do not mean to say I am not happy here—”

Ditra forestalled her with a raised hand. “I understand what you mean.” Better than you can know. “Go on.”

Vera frowned again, and she began to twist her hands. “I have never fought before, of course. I like my training, but I do not enjoy the thought of … of killing. But I know we never do it without reason.”

Do we not? thought Ditra. I always thought Mother was too careless of others’ lives.

She closed her eyes and steeled herself. Enough. She had become a confused mess, and she would not serve her people well in this state.

“There have been some … arrivals, to the keep,” she said to Vera.

“Guests?” said Vera, frowning.

“No,” said Ditra. “Prisoners. They may be here on dishonorable business.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Even she barely believed them.

“I cannot remember the last time we had prisoners in the dungeons,” said Vera, her voice suddenly small.

Ditra could not help a snort of laughter. “I could not have said that when I was your age.”

Vera smiled at Ditra’s laughter, brief and grim though it was. She had always loved it when they laughed together, and loved it all the more for how rare it was.

“I … I have something I think I should tell you,” said Ditra. “But it is a long tale, and a difficult one. Do you remember—”

A horn sounded. Ditra shot to her feet.

“Mother?” said Vera.

“Stay here,” said Ditra. She almost left, but at the last moment she stopped. Turning, she embraced Vera, holding her tight. “Be strong. I will return when I can.”

She ran from the room. A door at the end of the hall led her into a passageway onto the walls. Soldiers of her house started in surprise as she emerged into the open and marched down the ramparts. She stopped at the first person she saw—and suddenly she realized that she knew the woman. It was Whetu, the former ranger whose family had narrowly escaped their village’s destruction a few weeks before.

“Whetu,” she said, nodding. “I am somewhat surprised to see you here.”

“Rangatira,” said Whetu, bowing with a fist to her forehead. “It seemed clear things would come to a fight before long. I took up your service again, for that seemed better than waiting idly for the trolls to come to us.”

“Maia assigned you?”

“He did, Rangatira,” said Whetu.

Ditra’s mouth gave a wry twist. Maia had not mentioned it, but then, he had been rather preoccupied lately. “I am glad you are here. I am assigning you to guard my daughter’s chamber. Find two others on your way and bring them with you, on my authority.”

“Yes, Rangatira,” said Whetu. “No harm will come to her.”

Ditra nodded and walked on while Whetu ran to do her bidding. Ditra stalked up to the short tower overlooking the east gatehouse, and there she found Maia.

“Report.”

Maia turned at the sound of her voice, and though he kept a passive expression, Ditra could see the relief in his eyes. He was obviously struggling to maintain his customary good humor, but it was overpowered by a worry he could not entirely hide.

“Rangatira,” he said. “Trolls have gathered at the north end of the dale.”

Ditra suppressed a shudder. They had all known that Kahaunga was the trolls’ eventual aim, but her scouts had guessed that any attack would not come for several more days. Ditra had thought they would have more time—time for the king’s reinforcements to arrive, time to work out another solution. Time to find and eliminate the Shades, mayhap.

A thought came to her briefly that that might have happened, if she had ordered Maia to work with us, as he had wished to. But she quashed that thought immediately. This was a time for action, not doubt.

“How many?”

“Many,” said Maia. “More than two hundreds.”

Ditra’s eyes shot wide. “Two hundreds?” She realized that soldiers all around them were staring at her, and she forced her expression back to one of impassive calm. “What are they doing?”

“They are holding their position for now,” said Maia. “But they may only be waiting until they finish gathering their forces.” He paused. “I did not even know there were that many in the mountains.”

“Of course there are,” she snapped. “The Greatrocks stretch for hundreds of leagues.”

“I mean the mountains of Tokana,” said Maia. “We have never glimpsed a pack even a fraction of this size.”

“Why would you? They have always observed the pact. They have kept to themselves for more generations than the years in your life.”

“That seems to have changed.”

Ditra frowned slightly. “And we will deal with it.”

Maia paused, glancing around. Ditra was grateful that at least he, too, was aware that everyone was watching them,