Читать книгу The Hopes of Kings - Steve Reilly - Страница 13

Chapter 6

A mist drifted over the rolling fields, giving an eerie glow to the first light of morning. The sun hid its face behind the grey air and the distant hills were lost in a land of softness.

Two men rode out of Haverim in the half-light and anyone who watched would wonder at the pairing of such an odd couple. One man was clearly a soldier, his name was Allarik. He was taller than most men while Piaz looked up to most women and Allarik’s wiry frame only helped to emphasise Piaz’ solid build. It was not that Piaz was fat; he just carried all his muscle closer to the ground than most men. Their horses were as different as the men, Allarik’s horse was tall and appeared strong and fast while Piaz’ mount was close to being labelled a pony.

News had long ago reached Piaz that The Society now controlled Arenia and he had anticipated that changes would now begin but a call from the king was unexpected. He had tried to discover more of what was behind the request, but Allarik assured him that he had no answers to satisfy the speaker’s curiosity. Piaz would be forced to wait until he met with the king.

The ride back to Whitebridge was enlightening, if uneventful. Allarik was not one to speak easily, but when he did, it was obvious that he had considered his words carefully. On one occasion, when the man chose to talk, Piaz learned that he was a member of the Gun-Jabal, a new force sworn to serve only the king’s orders. This concerned Piaz a little, wondering why the king saw it necessary to create such a force. But Allarik explained that while the king was the head of a vast military power, the army was a thing of structure with many levels of authority and, as such, would be slow to react to the king’s requests. The Gun-Jabal, however, was small and could quickly see to the king’s wishes. The way the man spoke made acceptance of the group possible.

“And sometimes,” Allarik confided, “the king requires soldiers who will perform duties that he would prefer the leaders of the army and others knew nothing of. The members of the Gun-Jabal are chosen for their discretion as much as their ability.” Realising he had said more than he should, Allarik added, “One such duty would be to find and pass messages to people of importance, as on this occasion.”

Piaz concerns rose again, but despite his misgivings he grew to like the big soldier during their ride back to the capital. He was uncertain if his doubts were that the new force existed, that the king thought it necessary, or just that he had been summoned, but he hoped time would answer his doubts.

At another time, Allarik told him that the king may require services that fell outside the realms of the army, special tasks of importance to the kingdom. It was then the king could rely on people like the Gun-Jabal to come to his aid. He did not explain what these services may be, but Piaz had his own suspicions and secret fears for the lives of any that crossed the king.

Their long ride ended when Allarik led the way past the docks and into the city through the south gate. The soldier had removed his cape and they both wore the clothing that Allarik produced from his saddlebags. He explained that the king preferred the members of the Gun-Jabal keep their identity from those the king did not trust, but again he did not elaborate on who that might be. They entered Whitebridge in the clothes of men whose business was at one of the many shops that dotted the streets. Allarik slumped in his saddle to disguise his height as he led the way along roads, between shops and around homes, always staying to the fringes of the city.

“The king wishes you to wait until he is ready before he has you enter the palace,” he whispered. Finally he reined his horse and announced, “We are here.”

Piaz looked about. The soldier had brought them to a place that appeared no different to any other they had passed - Homes and businesses crowded the narrow street as people went about their many tasks. Allarik was already hitching his horse to a post while Piaz still sat his mount and looked. The soldier waited until Piaz joined him outside a door and they entered the clean-whitewashed building with large windows together. As they did, Piaz glanced up to see the painted board hanging above the opening, proclaiming it to the entire world as the White Star Inn. It looked a nice enough place to wait for the king’s orders. Clean tables were scattered through the well-lit tavern where a few patrons enjoyed food and ale. Towards the back, the light faded into private booths nestling in the shadows. A group of men laughed at the rattle of dice off to one side and a round man rolled towards them with a broad smile painted on his face. As he drew near, Allarik casually touched his left shoulder with his right fist and returned the smile.

“Whitebridge prospers under the new king,” he offered to the round man that Piaz now realised must be the innkeeper. Piaz noted that Allarik’s lips moved briefly giving the innkeeper what he considered to be a smile.

“A good king is always good for business,” the rotund man replied. “What can I do for you?”

“It is good to see you again Marcus. You and your inn never change. It is like coming home. We are expected for a meeting, and need to send word to a man of high importance that we have arrived,”

Allarik’s voice was quiet but his manner was confident.

“And you do not wish to be heard?” enquired Marcus.

“No,” Allarik told him. “No one must know we are here. Can you get word to our man without being seen?” Marcus’ hand made a cutting motion to still the conversation. The innkeeper led them to a booth in the back, a dark corner that was hidden from the world of light and pleasantry. He turned and left without another word and returned moments later with two foaming mugs of ale. He leant in as he placed them on the table.

“Your request is on its way. You will have your reply shortly,” he whispered before leaving them to their drinks.

Allarik thanked him as he left and he slouched back to enjoy a few moments out of the saddle while they waited for instructions. With their third drink almost finished, Marcus brought a fourth mug for each of them, and two bowls of thick stew that tainted the air with the sting of heavy spices. Piaz’ spoon was halfway to his mouth when a shadow fell across the table. He looked up while Allarik’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

A man, hidden in a worn brown cape and hood, slipped into the booth beside them. Piaz noticed three other men taking up positions in the tavern. All wore loose cloaks that did not hide the swords at their waists. Marcus made no move to approach the booth or the three men. The innkeeper’s calm settled Piaz as he moved to make room for the stranger. When the man spoke, he did so in a whisper.

“Leave us to talk.”

Allarik rose and left without question. Piaz had not expected the soldier to be so obedient. He must know the man and accept him as superior. Allarik thought as the man in brown spoke.

“I wished to speak with you before you were brought before me at the palace,” the man muttered quietly.

Piaz’ eyes widened with recognition. This man was the King of Arenia and he was speaking with him in a darkened corner of a tavern! Xavier raised his head and pulled the hood back enough to reveal his features only to Piaz.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

The king’s face was unfamiliar but the flowing locks of red hair were vivid in his mind. He cast his thoughts back and combed through memories till he remembered the young man who listened intently and questioned him later about his speeches. Piaz nodded.

“I see you do remember,” smiled Xavier. “Is there any chance you remember the questions I asked?”

“I remember what you did not ask. There were no questions about the dangers the world faced, or my distant travels. That is what most people ask of. Instead you asked about how I prepared for my talks, and where I learned to speak so confidently.”

“And you advised that all a person required was to show belief in what he spoke of. I want you to remember those words when I explain my summons.”

Xavier went on to detail his plans for Piaz and, satisfied with the answers he received, the king left to disappear into the back of the inn with his minders.

His parting words were a caution that when they met in the palace, he was not to mention this meeting.