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

I placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing her through the thick bandages she had there. “And I think you do excellently at it. Fare well, constable. I am sorry to have disturbed the peace of your people.”

“Things are better now than they were when you arrived, I suppose,” said Yue, meeting my gaze. “If you ever draw near to Lan Shui again, I would not mind if you visited us. You did not get to see many of the town’s more attractive features. This bed, for example, is quite comfortable when it is not holding a convalescent.”

I do not mind telling you that my cheeks went absolutely wine-dark with color. From his place by the door, Dryleaf gave a conspicuous cough, and Ashta became suddenly very interested in something out the window.

“I … I am sure it is,” I said finally. “Mayhap I will take you up on your offer, if ever I return this way.”

“You would be fortunate to,” said Yue with a snort. Then her eyes slid past me to Dryleaf. “Still your giggling, old man. I have not forgotten the help you gave to these people when they were still strangers. I have my eye on you.”

“And it is only that fact that lets me feel safe when I lay my head down at night,” said Dryleaf, bowing. “I am glad you are well, Yue.”

“Of course you are,” said Yue. “Well, enough of both of you. I have been ordered to rest well in order to speed my recovery, and I always listen to my healer.”

“That is a lie,” whispered Dryleaf, as we beat our hasty retreat. “She is one of the most obstinate patients in the nine lands. The healers have told me so. I think she was as stunned by her words to you as you were, and wanted an excuse to kick us out.”

We returned to the inn, where we began to ready our horses for travel. Foolhoof looked at me as suspiciously as ever, while Mist, of course, easily took the blanket, bit, and bridle as Mag put them on. Dryleaf sat on a little wooden stool near the front of the stable, a gentle smile plastered on his face. It looked forced.

“Mag,” I said quietly, stepping close to her for a moment. “Do you think the innkeeper has any spare horses for sale?”

“Any innkeeper worth their salt does, and he is too much of a fool to be worth that much,” said Mag irritably. But she glanced around the stable. “No, in truth, I think he does. There are too many horses here for the number of guests I have seen in the common room, at least. Why do you ask?”

I glanced over my shoulder at Dryleaf, sitting by the stable’s front door, and then met Mag’s gaze. I raised my eyebrows. She pursed her lips and looked at the old man, considering. At last she looked back at me and nodded.

I left my horse for a moment and went to the old man, sitting beside him on the bench at the front of the stable. “Dryleaf,” I said. “I have been thinking much about what you said.”

“Hm?” said Dryleaf, shaking himself as though he had been pulled from deep thought. “I have said many things.”

“I mean about how you came to be in Lan Shui.”

Dryleaf sighed. “Oh? Have you?”

“I have,” I said. “And I thought—though you may have no interest in such a scheme—I thought you could come with us, if you so desired. We have no plans to visit the Birchwood Forest. But we might go there one day.”

For the second time that day, Dryleaf moved with the shocking speed of a much younger man. He leaped to his feet, hands trembling, and I saw tears well up in his cloudy eyes.

“I … if you took me with you, I would—I swear I would be no burden, and I would—”

“Sky above, man, of course I know that,” I said. “You have forgotten more leagues of travel than I have ever ridden. And for my part, I would be happy to have your wisdom at our side, and I swear we would keep you safe. And something tells me we may have tasks ahead of us for which we will require your help.”

“Anything,” said Dryleaf. “If my old bones can do it, consider it done.”

“Very well. I have your first task for you.” I pulled out my purse. “Go and see the innkeeper, and purchase yourself a horse. I think he would refuse to take any of our coin, but I think he might take yours.”

Dryleaf let out a laugh that almost turned into a sob, shaking his head. “Even your first task for me is a gift. I am in your debt, Albern of the family Telfer, and I will not forget it.”

“You will not have time to,” I assured him. “Before long, the hardness of the road and the open fields upon which we make our beds will have reminded you of why you abandoned them for comfort and safety. But while you are seized with this madness, I will take advantage of it.”

“How very shrewd of you,” said Dryleaf. “But now excuse me—I must purchase myself a horse.”

The business was done before we had finished saddling our mounts, and soon the three of us rode out of the stable, Oku trotting along beside our horses. As we passed through the streets, townsfolk waved and wished us well—especially Mag. She rode high in her saddle, her back straight. Her eyes were fixed on the road ahead, the way they had been when we rode into Lan Shui. But now she turned her sight upon the people who called out to her, and smiled at them, and wished them well.

And I was proud to ride by her side, as we made north for Calentin.

For home.

“A good tale,” said Sun, as Albern’s voice trailed