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

In a few moments, Mag had told me more of her early life than in all the years of our youth. It was just like in Tokana, when she had told me of her love of the forests. And in that moment, as before, I did not know quite what to do. I suppose I was like you, desperate for her to give me more details and continue the story. But, if you will forgive me for saying so, I had the sense to rein in my questions—all but one.

“Do you want to visit?” I said.

Mag gave me a sharp look.

“We do not have to,” I said hastily. “But we do not know where to go, and I think we can spare a day, or a few of them. Is there anyone there you wish to see?”

“No.” Her answer came without hesitation. Her tone was not harsh, but neither did it leave any room for argument or doubt. And she did not explain further.

“Fair enough,” I said, attempting nonchalance. But in truth, I was afraid I had sent her guard crashing back down, and I wished I had said nothing at all.

Two days after we rode out of the Sunmane Pass, a rider came out of the mountains behind us. She stopped at the last crest before the road descended into Dorsea’s lowlands. The height was lofty enough to see a great distance, until it was easy to imagine one could view Danfon far to the southeast, though of course that was impossible.

She pulled her cloak a bit tighter around herself. She had been searching for us, and her search had gone on for a long time. Disappointment in Calentin was close behind her, but now the trail was fresh again, and it led her into Dorsea.

With a grumble and a set in her shoulders, she nudged her horse forwards, down into the lands we had entered only days ago.

Dusk was still hours away when we reached the town of Taitou. At the western gate, guards inspected us with suspicion. This, of course, was routine to us now—from Constable Yue at the gates of Lan Shui to the Rangatira’s soldiers who guarded Opara, we had practice dealing with servants of the King’s law. We had a story already prepared and well rehearsed from long repetition.

But this time was different. In addition to four constables, two Mystics guarded the gate as well.

I knew many Mystics in my day. Some were good, like Jordel of the family Adair, about whom I have told you. A few were cruel. Most were somewhere in the middle. But for the most part, I rarely wished to get involved with Mystics if I could help it. If they were present in any situation, it was because things had gotten much worse than they should have. And with some exceptions, I knew them for a suspicious lot, willing to go to any length to solve a crime they were investigating. They were only too ready to eliminate anything—or anyone—they perceived as a threat to the High King’s order.

So you can understand it was with some trepidation that we submitted ourselves to inspection by the redcloaks. More than their scrutiny, I feared that word of our coming might reach unwanted ears. The Shades had agents in many places, and I did not doubt that at least some of them had infiltrated the redcloaks. Yet there was nothing we could do, other than turn and ride from Taitou with all possible speed—and that would have been suspicious, to say the least. Then the Mystics would have sent out word to their order that three riders of our description had refused to submit to inspection, and that news would have reached Kaita in time.

So I fixed a smile on my face as I stood a few paces off from Foolhoof, my gelding. “Is there anything I can help you with, friend? If you tell me what you are looking for, mayhap I can tell you where to find it.”

The Mystic, a stout man with dark hair and a heavy scar on his left cheek, frowned at me. It was his second time going through my things.

“If you were carrying what I am looking for, you would not tell me.”

“Contraband, is it?” said Mag. “Or mayhap you seek a blue cloak?”

I winced. Dark take Mag. She almost seemed to enjoy taunting the King’s law and those who served it.

Both Mystics gave her sharp looks. “An odd thing to say,” growled the second one, a strong-armed twixt with impressive scars on their bare arms. I wondered how they were not shivering with cold. “What makes you think of blue cloaks?”

“Come, my friends.” Dryleaf was as polite as ever. “Do you imagine we are ignorant of the rumors about these Shades? Sky above, they attacked the Seat. It does no one any good to pretend at secrecy—not us, and not you, with your mission from the High King.”

“Our mission is our own, and we will see to it,” said the man. “But as for you three, what exactly do you know of the Shades?”

“Only what everyone knows,” I said, shrugging. “They attacked the Seat, and then they vanished. All else is rumors.”

The twixt glared hard. “What rumors, exactly?”

“Zhen! Lo!” said a new voice. “I hope you are not being rude to Taitou’s newest guests.”

Both Mystics yanked their hands from our saddles, smoothed their cloaks, and stood at attention, as another approached through the gate. As he came to a stop before us, the others saluted with fists over their hearts.

The first thing I noticed about the new arrival was his smile, for it seemed ever-present, and it flashed with well-kept white teeth. After that, I noticed that he was short—or a bit shorter than me, anyway—with several layers of fat beneath his clothing. He wore a red cloak, like most of those in