(Chapter 8: The Village, cont.)

  “Now, tell us the news,” Gervis said, motioning for the other men to lean in. “What has happened in Eastmere since the autumn?”

  Roarke was the one to answer. He responded like a man from the southern cities, starting with the blight that had wiped out a quarter of the vineyards in Yunica and Palermo. The innkeepers’ wife and serving maid came in with dinner while Roarke spoke. They served thick cuts of beef, potatoes with cream and butter, stuffed peppers, and roasted squash soup. Bruna poured large mugs of ale and tins of milk.

  “To your journey,” Gervis announced, raising his mug.

  “And to your fine establishment,” Chadwick added.

  The mugs were clinked together. Ean set his down without drinking. Chadwick downed his in one go and then grabbed Ean’s.

  “What of Westenvale?” one of the men asked. “Are we at war yet?”

  Ean dug into his meal while the others answered. Chadwick shared the biggest rumor that had been circulating around Eastmere, that Westenvale was building a navy in order to attack by sea. A heated debate ensued about the efficacy of battle ships. Ean ignored the talk and kept his eye on the tavern.

  Several times throughout the meal a villager approached to offer their goods and services. A tentmaker stated she had the best tents in the north, guaranteed to keep out the bitter winds. A shoemaker asked how their boots were faring; did they need repairing or replacing? A farmer approached to ask if the Prince had been married yet. He was asking for his daughter who was sitting across the tavern, too shy to approach herself. Even in the dim light, it was easy to see she was a pretty girl.

  Chadwick laughed so hard he choked. Leo kicked him under the table. Asali and Flora arrived then, which offered a timely distraction. Both were freshly bathed. Asali wore her clean set of trail clothes, but Flora had put more time into her appearance. Her hair was softly braided, and she wore her blouse off her shoulders. Ean thought for a moment she had on a new skirt, but then realized it had been reversed, revealing a floral pattern that had been protected on the inside.

  A few men whistled as they passed. Asali ignored them; Flora ducked her head with a pleased smile. They sat down and were quickly served. With the addition of Flora and Asali, a few of the women who had been too reticent to approach came up to the table. Some sent flirtatious looks at Leo and Chadwick. A couple of them asked after the newest styles of the court. Ean knew enough about fashion to know that the clothes they wore were surprisingly modern for such a remote town. He supposed Northpoint was so well-traveled it was easier to keep up with current trends. The girls were very interested in their sartorial choices. One girl reached out and fingered Flora’s blouse, openly envious.

  “Quit it, Sari,” her sister hissed, slapping her hand away. She tossed her hair back. “It’d look better on me anyway.”

  “You’ve already got a new dress,” Sari argued. “It’s my turn.”

  “Girls!” Bruna stood up and pulled them away, the two of them bickering all the while.

  It’s my turn.

  It was the second time those words had been used. It could be simply explained. Two sisters arguing over who was next to get a new dress. A boy wanting to ring the village bells. But there was an unspoken meaning behind the words that Ean didn’t comprehend, and it made him uneasy.

  He turned to Leo, ready to retire, but before he could say anything, the door was flung open. Conversation stopped and heads turned. A man stepped through the doorway. He was dressed in brown leathers and a dark cloak. He wore a sword at his belt, the only sword Ean had seen in the village. He pulled back his hood, revealing a rugged face and sharp gaze.

  “Heard the bells ringing from the pass,” he announced. His eyes flickered over the tavern and settled on Ean and the others. He started forward. He was tall and broad, tall enough he had to duck under the rafters.

  Ean slipped one of his wrist knives into the palm of his hand. Chadwick half-stood from his seat, but Gervis waved him down. “It’s alright. Ward’s a familiar face around these parts.”

  Chadwick sat back down, but Ean didn’t put his knife away. The townsfolk hadn’t resumed their conversations, and he could read their apprehension as they watched Ward make his way through the room.

  He joined the table without an invitation, folding himself into a seat across from them. “Headed to the springs then?”

  “We plan to leave in the morning,” said Roarke.

  Ward grunted and cast an eye over them. “Anyone been there before?”

  Chadwick spoke up. “I’ve spoken with guides familiar with the parts.”

  “Have a map?”

  “A couple.”

  Ward reached into his cloak. Ean wasn’t the only one who tensed, but Ward didn’t retrieve a weapon, just a folded piece of parchment. He spread it out on the table, revealing a hand-drawn but intricately detailed map.

  “Ward’s a cartographer,” Gervis said. “Which, of course, means he’s a spy for the King.”

  It was an old joke, that mapmakers were the eyes of the kings, scoping out the land for the best place to build a fortress or for an army to cross a river. But with their quest, and with the presence of Leo, Ean wondered if it might be true. He looked at the others, trying to read any recognition on their faces. There was none.

  Ward shook his head in reproach. “One of these days that joke is going to get me killed, Gervis.”

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  Gervis laughed, a little too loudly. He was trying to lighten the mood.

  Ward pointed at the map. “You’re here now. You’ll take the north road out of town. When you reach the river, follow it a few days, and then strike east when you hit this bend here, see? There’s a road marker to point you so you don’t overshoot it.”

  “That’s what we were told,” Chadwick agreed.

  “There’s signs of a camp here.” Ward pointed to the foothills outside of Eastmere’s northern border.

  “What do you mean?” Asali asked.

  “Not this again,” Gervis complained, dropping his head into his hands.

  “It’s dangerous up there,” Ward told him. “They deserve to know the risks.”

  “All travel is dangerous.”

  Ward shook his head. “It wasn’t this dangerous twenty years ago. More and more parties are going missing, and it’s only getting worse.”

  Ean flexed his hand around his knife, uneasy at the news.

  “What do you mean missing?” Chadwick asked.

  “Gervis can tell you more,” said Ward. “This town keeps record of all the parties that travel to the springs. They also keep record of how many return. Those numbers don’t match.”

  “The journey is a difficult one,” Gervis said, trying to brush off his concern. Ward pinned him with a dark stare and Gervis wilted. He turned to Chadwick. “I don’t want to scare people off, but yes, we are finding that some traveling parties don’t make it back. But they could simply be taking a different road home.”

  “You know that’s not likely,” Ward said.

  “What do you think is happening?” Leo asked him.

  Ward waved a hand at the serving maid who was bringing out more ale. She passed a tankard to him and he took a long swallow before answering. “My best guess is Wildmen. They roam the moors in small groups, preying upon settlers or travelers. In small groups, they’re nothing more than a nuisance, but it’s possible they’ve joined forces and become more dangerous. The road to the springs is well-known and there are several places to stage an ambush.”

  Chadwick pulled the map closer. His brow knit as he studied the page.

  “Have you seen them yourself?” Asali asked.

  Ward shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen evidence of their work. My advice to you: wait for another party to arrive and travel together. There’s strength in numbers.”

  Leo and Roarke exchanged looks.

  “How long would that be?” Leo asked.

  “My guess, with the weather improving, another week or two.”

  Ean could tell from the reluctance on Leo’s face that they weren’t going to wait, but they did have an advantage on the Wildmen. They weren’t traveling to the springs. With any luck, they’d miss the Wildmen’s ambush spots altogether.

  “How many Wildmen?” Ean asked.

  Ward’s eyes flicked to him and then lingered on his braids. His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything. “They used to travel in packs of ten to fifteen. But if they’re doing the damage I suspect them of, more like forty. Maybe even fifty.”

  Ean grimaced. Those numbers were dangerous.

  Ward pointed at the map, indicating a spot more eastward than they would be traveling. “I saw a campsite here a couple of weeks ago. It looked like a large party, but I can’t tell you much more.”

  “Horses?” Chadwick asked. “Weaponry?”

  “The Wildmen don’t need mounts. They know the moors and they travel fast, faster than you can run. They prefer axes and maces, but a few will have short bows. Your best bet, if you see them, is to surrender your goods quickly. They may let you live.” He looked between them. “My advice is to wait.”

  “Our task is urgent,” said Leo.

  “Then keep your eyes sharp.” Ward toasted them with his tankard, drained it, and then gathered his map, ready to leave.

  “Not staying?” Gervis asked. “I’ve a lovely room for you, at a discount rate. I could have Junia get it ready for you.” He smiled widely; it was a joke for Ward.

  Ward’s face twisted. “Stop trying to foist your daughter on a surveyor. We make terrible husbands.” He shook his head. “I’ve to make Pinetum by the morrow.”

  “At least sit and dine with us. Pinetum’s not far.”

  “I’ll eat in the kitchen. It’s too loud in here.” He gave them a nod and then strode to the back with a heavy step.

  Gervis clucked his tongue. “That’s Ward for you. More comfortable in a tree than a bed.” He chuckled, but no one joined in. He read the consternation of the group with a practiced eye. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. You’re leaving so early in the season that those Wildmen won’t be looking for any travelers. But enough talk of danger. Here you are in a warm room, with good food and better friends, and plenty of ale. Marita!” he called out to the serving girl. “More ale for my friends!”

  The tavern cheered at his proclamation and returned to its previous state of merriment. A group in the corner started drumming on their table. A singer jumped up and belted out the first verse of Two Crows in Spring. It was a popular tavern song, one that didn’t require any instrumentation. The tavern was quick to join the call-and-response. A few people got up to dance. More followed. Some of the braver men asked Asali and Flora to join them. Asali declined but Flora accepted with a bashful grin.

  Ean’s mood didn’t lift with the song. The threat of fifty Wildmen had set him on edge. His leg jounced with restless energy. His fingers drummed on the table in counterpoint to the music. He was relieved when Leo got up after the second song started.

  “I’m going to turn in.” Leo looked at Chadwick. “Don’t stay up too late.”

  Chadwick waved him off with a smile. “It’s barely night yet.”

  Ean followed Leo back up to their room. He could still hear the singing, even with the door closed, but it was muffled enough that sleep wouldn’t be a problem.

  Leo washed his face again at the basin, and Ean set about securing the room for the night. He checked the window for any access points from the ground. He locked the door and tested the strength of the bolt. It was surprisingly strong. Most village inns had only a simple eye-and-hook latch that could be unfastened by a knife slipped between the door and frame. He slung his short swords over the doorknob, balancing the strap so that they’d fall if the door was opened. It was a crude, but effective, alarm system.

  “Do you want to take the bed?”

  Ean turned to Leo, surprised at the question.

  The Prince gestured towards the large bed. “You want it? I’m fine with the pallet.”

  Ean crossed his arms. “I tried to kill you not too long ago, and now you want to give me the bed?”

  “I’m asking a traveling companion what he would prefer.”

  Ean waited a beat, sure that the Prince was joking, but he didn’t laugh or rescind the offer.

  “Sure,” Ean said. “I’ll take the bed.”

  He waited another beat, wondering if Leo had asked as an empty gesture and hadn’t expected him to accept. The Prince only nodded and moved Ean’s bag off the pallet. Ean frowned, not sure if Leo was genuinely that nice or just playing the role. He couldn’t decide.

  He pulled off his boots and jacket and placed them at the foot of the bed where he could reach them easily. His long knives and dagger followed, but he kept his vambraces on. He did a quick step-count to the door, and then to the table, window, and Leo’s bed. Leo watched him, brows furrowed. Ean ignored him and finally climbed into bed, untucking the blankets from the foot of the mattress so he wouldn’t get his feet caught if he needed to get up quickly.

  “Are you always this paranoid?” Leo asked.

  “If I’d been able to sweep the town, I’d sleep more comfortably.”

  Leo didn’t have a response to that. Ean blew out the lantern and settled back. The mattress was comfortable. The room was warm and quiet. Faint strains of a melody drifted up from the tavern below.

  He fell asleep.