Chapter 30|Connections
“Our clan chief’s hut be there,” the young man said, indicating the largest of the primitive-looking structures that encircled the floor of the tiny canyon. “I will notify him of your arrival.”
“And to whom do I owe thanks for guiding me?” Aspin asked, reining his horse in and looking around for a place to tie off the reins.
The fellow’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head to the side.
“What is your name, young man?” Aspin spoke loudly and slowly, as if speaking to a dullard. Despite his weariness, he knew that he should not treat the lad so, after all he had saved Aspin at least two days of riding and what would likely have been a dull, if not outright unpleasant visit to Karkwall. The party he had described to Aspin had to be the Malan girl and her friends. Who the other two with them were, he could not deduce.
“Oh. My name be Jamnir. At your service, Sai-kur.” He thumped his fist to his chest and bowed, keeping his eyes on Aspin as if to see what else he might do to unintentionally give offense.
Aspin looked down at the Monaghan scout. His bright red whiskers scarcely covered his cheeks. “Jamnir, I wish to thank you for guiding me to your encampment. I shall commend you to your clan chief. What is his name?”
“Horgris, sir. His name be Horgris.” Jamnir’s features relaxed, obviously relieved that he had not drawn the ire of a Sai-kur. “If you be allowing me, I’ll see your horse be tended to.”
“I would be most appreciative,” Aspin said, slipping out of the saddle and stepping down onto the spongy turf. He passed the reins to Jamnir before freeing his saddlebags and slinging them over his shoulder. “Lead the way.”
Jamnir hastily turned Aspin’s mount, as well as his own, over to a young lad of no more than ten summers, unless Aspin missed his guess. They walked over to the hut that Jamnir had indicated. As they approached, he heard shouts from within.”
“You’ll be telling me now, girl!” A voice like low thunder rolled through the damp morning mist. “I’ll be knowing it, or you’ll be marrying the first goat-herder I be setting my eyes on!”
“I will not!” a strident, female voice shrieked. “I will be telling you when I be ready, and not a moment sooner!”
“If it be Granlor, just tell me.” The rough voice had softened a bit, but not much.
“It not be Granlor. Just leave me be!” A pretty, round-faced girl with auburn hair burst through the doorway, jostling Jamnir as she stalked past. A moment later, a large, heavyset man clad in the traditional Monaghan garb, emerged.
“Rinala!” he shouted, though he made no move to follow her. “Fool girl,” he muttered. He turned toward Aspin, his brown eyes locking in on him with the challenging gaze of a cornered wolf. “Who this be?”
Jamnir’s eyes darted from Horgris to Aspin and back to Horgris again. He swallowed, and took a deep breath. “Ah, Horgris, this be, ah…”
“My name is Aspin. I am a Sai-kur. This young man was good enough to guide me to your camp. I believe you can help me locate some people I am looking for. I realize that this is probably not the ideal time for you to receive a visitor, but…”
“Ah, it be no matter.” Horgris waved a beefy hand at him, and turned back toward the hut. “Come inside. Do you drink skok, or be you weak in the gut?”
Aspin smirked. It was refreshing to be around someone who was neither intimidated by the Sai-kur cloak, nor openly hostile toward him. This Horgris fellow would be interesting.
He entered the hut, ducking slightly as he passed through the doorway. A fat-burning lamp cast the room in a smoky, yellow haze. Save the small table where the lamp rested alongside a jug and a few mismatched mugs, the only furnishings were a few blankets on the floor.
Horgris motioned for him to sit, before filling two mugs. He drained one and refilled it before passing the second to Aspin, and taking a seat on one of the blankets.
“My daughter Rinala,” he said, shaking his head, “gone and got herself with child.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Aspin said levelly, taking a sip of skok. Vile stuff, really, but he needed information, and did not wish to offend his host. At least not until he had learned all he could.
“Bah!” Horgris made a dismissive gesture. “I no care about that. But she’ll no tell me who the father be. I want the boy, whoever he be, to live up to his responsibilities, that be all.” He took a gulp of skok, closing his eyes and smiling as he swallowed.
“I am certain she will tell you when she is ready,” Aspin said. In Monaghan culture, it was incumbent upon the host to initiate business discussions. For Aspin to broach the subject of the Malan girl before Horgris inquired as to the reason for his visit would be the height of rudeness.
“No doubt,” Horgris grumbled, staring down into his mug. “I be a grandfather soon. Hard to believe.” He snapped his head up. “I no look like a grandfather, do I?”
“Not at all,” Aspin replied truthfully. The man, despite his girth, was obviously robust. He exuded strength.
“You be a good liar. I like that.” Horgris laughed, a sonorous sound, and raised his cup. “To the seeds of my planting!”
Aspin raised his mug, and recited a blessing remembered from a lifetime ago. “May your descendants be as plentiful as the stars of night.” He took a healthy swallow, squeezing his eyes closed and willing himself not to shudder as the drink scorched his throat.
“May they be so, but no time soon, yes?” Horgris took another drink. “Very well. Now you will be telling me what you be doing here.”
“I am searching for the daughter of a friend,” Aspin began, grateful that Horgris seemed one to appreciate directness. “A young woman, a girl really, taller than you, red hair, gray eyes. She dresses like a boy, and carries a sword. I understand from young Jamnir that someone meeting her description passed through here not long ago.” He took another sip of skok, thankful for its warmth in this cold, damp place.
“Ah yes. That one, she be traveling with Prince Larris.”
Aspin choked, spewing his drink all over the front of his cloak. A series of racking coughs cleared the drink from his windpipe.
“You be all right?” Horgris asked, looking perplexed.
“Fine,” he wheezed. A fine thing for a Sai-kur to let himself show surprise like that. What was Larris doing down here? And how in the god’s names had the Malan girl gotten mixed up with him? “Just haven’t had skok in quite some time. Went down the wrong way.”
“Ah.” Neither the utterance nor the look on Horgris’ face indicated whether or not he believed the explanation. “Why you be looking for the girl?”
Many of Aspin’s order might have taken the opportunity to educate Horgris as to the impropriety of questioning a Sai-kur’s motives. He chose not to do so. For one, arrogant people annoyed him. For another, he suspected that such a comment might elicit a half-hearted apology from Horgris, but the clan chief would likely deny having any further knowledge of the Malan girl. He decided to lie instead.
“The girl set off adventuring. She has always wanted to be a soldier, which a woman cannot be in Galdora. She spirited away three other youngsters from her village. Her father is an old friend, and he asked me to bring her home.”
“Finding lost children no seem like important enough business to be troubling one of your lot.” Horgris put his cup down, and folded his arms across his chest, resting them on his paunch. “And how she come to travel with a prince of Galdora if she be no more than a runaway?” He sat, waiting for an explanation.
“I owe her father a debt,” Aspin said. “As for the latter, I was hoping you could tell me. Did Larris say where they were going, or what they were doing?” He took another drink, hoping the Monaghan would be forthcoming with something helpful.
Horgris sat in quiet contemplation for a long while, his drink forgotten. Finally, he sighed and looked Aspin directly in the eye. “You be a Seeker, so I no can think of a reason not to tell you. But first you answer me t
his, and answer true. The girl you seek have the look of a Monaghan about her, but she be having the eyes of a Malgog. Do she truly be Galdoran?”
“I know for a fact that she was born and lived her life in Galdora,” Aspin said. He could tell by Horgris’ frown that this answer would not suffice. “Her father was born a Malgog. I did not know her mother.” It was almost the truth.
Horgris raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. Whatever he was thinking, he did not share. “Very well, Seeker. I can tell you what your Galdoran, Malgog, maybe Monaghan girl be about, and where she be headed. I sent them to the Ramsgate. They be in search of the Silver Serpent.”
Aspin was grateful that he had not been taking a drink when Horgris said that, else he might have choked again. Pieces rapidly fell into place, and others began to organize themselves in at least a remotely sensible fashion. Lerryn’s sword tournament held in the middle of nowhere suddenly made a certain amount of sense. But how had the girl ended up with Larris? Were the princes working together? And if so, did that mean that Larris was under Xaver’s sway? That was unfair. He had nothing more than an instinctive dislike of Lerryn’s vizier upon which to ground his suspicions. His mind was abuzz with possibilities.
“I see that be meaningful to you,” Horgris observed, grinning like the cat that got the cream. “I be thinking it might be important.”
Aspin couldn’t resist taking the man down a peg. “Horgris, are you a member of the order?” The smile fell from the man’s face instantly, and he gaped at the Sai-kur. “You had to be. Why else would you have aided them? What I don’t understand is why you did not go after it yourself.”
Horgris picked his cup back up, but did not drink. “Boys from the clan, they go in search of it from time-to-time. Foolishness, mostly. We can no spare the men, what with the Malgog raiding us all the time.” Aspin noted that he did not mention the Monaghan raiding the Malgog. “Besides, we no know where to look. One legend say it be in a lost city beyond the Ramsgate, another say it be carried away to…” his eyes flitted toward Aspin, then away again, “to another place.”
He was going to say Vatania, Aspin thought. “But Larris believes he knows where to find it?”
Horgris nodded. “He be looking for Robrus’ Pass. Says if he be able to find it, he be able to find the city. I tell him the location of the pass be lost to memory, but I send him to the Ramsgate. Wasting his time if you be asking me.”
Aspin’s thoughts raced again. He had never put much store in prophecy, dismissing it as the ratings of madmen. However, this was too much of a coincidence to ignore. If the bearer of the Silver Serpent was to be the one to reunite the clans, then would not the reverse be true as well? Would the one chosen to reunite the clans be fated to bear the Serpent? And what became of his plan if the wrong person discovered it? It was too much to worry over. He could only control his own actions, and right now, he needed to find the girl.
“What be on your mind, Seeker? I know how you and yours be doing your business. Things be not so simple as you make them seem. Tell me I be wrong.”
How much should he tell? “The frost creeps again.” He expected to see surprise on Horgris’ face, but the man simply nodded. “That does not surprise you?”
“We be attacked by ice cats the first time I be meeting up with Larris and that girl. First ones I ever be seeing in my lifetime. And I hear tell the wolves and pumas be ranging far out of their territory. Something be pushing them out; something they be afraid of.”
“Have you heard anything else? Anything that might be of importance?”
“One of my scouts come across a mountain man, half-wild he be. Said he seen an army moving through the passes far west of here. My scout say he no see any sign this way, and he doubt there be an army, but he believe the man be telling the truth as he be seeing it. A man live alone in the mountains, perhaps fifty men be seeming an army to him. Still, it be strange.”
“Strange indeed.” Aspin took another swallow of skok, now so immersed in thought as to be blissfully oblivious to the taste. Perhaps fifty men, and perhaps not. “Can you direct me to this Ramsgate?”