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

“I cannot wait,” he murmured.

After a week and a half of rest, we left Kahaunga at last.

When Mag and I told Ditra of our intention to leave, she went very quiet. We were in her chamber eating our evening meal, along with Dryleaf, but I had made sure that Vera was not in the room. As the silence stretched on after I had finished speaking, I looked uncertainly at Mag, but she never took her gaze from Ditra.

“I had meant to discuss matters with you before now,” said Ditra softly. “I thought to ask you to be my new lead ranger. I can think of no one else more suited to take Maia’s place at my side.”

“And I expected you to say so,” I said. “But I have been away from Calentin a long time, and I am happier wandering the nine lands than I ever was here.” She began to object, but I raised a hand to forestall her. “It was not only Mother who made me unhappy here. It is the life I was expected to lead. The one you want me to lead now. I am not suited to a noble’s life, Ditra. I never was.”

She sighed and shook her head. “No. I suppose you are not. I will not pretend I am happy with your answer, but neither can I say truthfully that you are wrong. Mayhap that is why I waited so long to raise the subject.” To my surprise, she turned to Dryleaf. “And what of you, Grandfather? You have ridden a long road to reach us, and a longer one stretches before you still, unless I miss my guess. Would you rather remain? I would treasure your presence as an advisor, not to mention your singing voice.”

Dryleaf bowed in his seat. “You are very kind, Rangatira. But my road does stretch on a long way, as you said, and there is an old friend at the end of it, unless I miss my guess.” He grinned and turned, so that his blind eyes seemed to gaze somewhere between Mag and me. “And besides, what hope do you truly think these young ones have without me at their side?”

That made us all laugh, and our talk turned to other things. With the matter settled, over the next few days Ditra commanded her servants to help us ready for travel. They provisioned us well, and groomed and re-shod our horses. And in those two days, we spent more time with Ditra and Vera than ever, and our meals were all the sweeter for our knowledge that our time together would soon end. Kaita had been seen flying away southwest, and there were some vague reports of strange things happening in that direction. Mag, Dryleaf, and I spent many days holed up in council with Ditra, poring over maps and determining our best course south. She sent word to the Calentin king, to be sent to all their Rangatira, that a rogue weremage allied with the Shades was passing through the kingdom, and that they should be on watch for her. At last we settled on a road that would bring us back to Opara by much the same route we had taken to get to Kahaunga, but with frequent stops along the way to search for any rumors of Kaita’s passing. Ditra gave us a new writ, of course, granting us broad, sweeping powers to aid us in our search.

At last, our time came to depart. We rose before dawn on the thirteenth of Martis to find our horses ready by the stables. Ditra was there to bid us farewell, and she had brought Vera with her. The poor girl was still blinking sleep from her eyes. But she came alert and ran forwards as soon as she saw me.

“Tell me you are not really leaving,” she pleaded.

“I am,” I said, ruffling her hair. “But not forever. We will meet again. And in the meantime, I have taught you much of the wilderness. I will expect you to know much more when I return. I think your mother needs another ranger, if you are willing to be one.”

Her eyes shone, and she smiled. “Of course I am!” she cried.

I smiled and patted her cheek. So like me in some ways, and so different in others. She stepped away to bid Mag and Dryleaf farewell, and especially to scratch Oku’s belly, while I went to Ditra. She had put on a stern look, very reminiscent of our mother. But her eyes gleamed with love, and with mischief.

“You will write me, of course,” she said sternly. “You have no excuses this time. If I do not receive any word from you, I will send all my rangers out to hunt you down, leaving Kahaunga defenseless.”

“I promise I will not make you take such drastic measures,” I said. “I will write as often as I can. To Vera, at least.”

Her mouth twitched, and she slapped my arm. Then she pulled me in for an embrace. “Fare well, brother. Take care of yourself, and your friends. I owe you everything. If ever I can be of service, I will.”

I clutched her tight, closing my eyes, trying to freeze the memory in my mind forever—and I succeeded. Even now, I can smell the scent of her hair, feel the smooth weave of her cloak against my cheek, shiver at the cold winter air that blew against my back.

“Thank you,” I said. “For your offer, and for all else you have done. I will not stay away so long this time.”

“You damned well had better not,” she said gruffly, pushing me back to hold at arm’s length. “You may think I am joking, but you will find rangers on your doorstep if you defy me.”

“I will remember it. Fare well, dearest sister. Protect our home.”

Tears came to her eyes at that, and the sight of it