David Coe - Bonds of Vengeance

“And you’re certain he’s in Helke?”

“Not entirely, no. In my vision the two of you were fighting at the northern end of the Crown, but I couldn’t tell the time of year. We’ll find him near Helke eventually, but I can’t say for certain when. I can only hope that it’s soon.”

Tavis said nothing, and for some time they stood in silence, gazing at the city and its port as the merchant ship approached the shore, the rhythmic cries of the rowmaster and the splash of the sweeps marking their progress. Whatever else Grinsa might have thought of the vessel’s captain, he could only admire the skill with which the man and his crew steered the ship to the broad wooden dock. In a few moments, the ship had been moored and the plank lowered. Grinsa and Tavis crossed the deck to where the captain stood, the young lord counting out gold coins to pay the man the balance of what they owed.

“W’ made fine time,” the captain said as Tavis handed him the gold, his accent so thick Grinsa barely understood him.

The gleaner nodded. “Yes, we did, Captain. Thank you.”

“I didn’ ’spect w’ would when w’ started out.” He gave Grinsa a sly look. “Yer a good’un to have “round, aren’t ye?”

“I’m not certain I know what you mean.”

“Aye, ye do.” He started to walk away. “If ye need passage back, ye c’n “ave it. Nex’ time, though, give us a more d’rect wind. Crossin’s slow “nough as “tis.”

The gleaner could only smile. After a moment he touched Tavis lightly on the shoulder and gestured for him to lead the way off the ship.

It was a short walk from the pier to the city gates and before long they had found an inn at which to stay the night. Relations between Eibithar and Wethyrn had been good for centuries, and so they were able to eschew most of the precautions they had taken while traveling through Aneira. Still, because of Brienne’s murder, the name Tavis of Curgh was now known throughout the Forelands, and the two companions agreed that it would be safer if the young lord went by Xaver’s name instead of his own, just as he had while traveling through the southern realm.

At Tavis’s suggestion, they spent much of the evening walking the streets of the city, searching for musicians in Duvenry’s taverns. They asked about the assassin in several of the inns, describing his appearance and claiming that he was a friend who they were supposed to meet here in the royal city, but none of the musicians or innkeepers with whom they spoke seemed to know the man.

As they left the fifth or sixth tavern-Grinsa had lost count-the gleaner cleared his throat, intending to suggest that they return to their inn and go to sleep. They had a good deal of travel ahead of them, and he was eager to be on the road with first light.

Before he could say any of this, however, he heard a light footfall behind them. Apparently Tavis heard it as well, for they turned at the same time, both of them drawing their blades.

A woman stood before them, her face illuminated by a nearby torch. She had long hair, pale blue eyes, and a round, attractive face. In the dim light, Grinsa couldn’t tell how old she was, but he wouldn’t have thought her much past her middle twenties.

She eyed their daggers briefly, raising an eyebrow. “For men who claim to be searching for a friend, you’re rather quick to draw your blades.” She glanced at the short sword hanging from Tavis’s belt. “You’re well armed, too.”

The sword had been Tavis’s idea, and Grinsa hadn’t approved at first, fearing that the weapon would only serve to draw attention to them. Few outside the courts traveled with such arms. It bothered him as well that he hadn’t seen the blade in his vision, though perhaps he should have been heartened by Tavis’s insistence that he bring it along. Didn’t its presence here at least raise the possibility that his vision no longer carried the weight of prophecy? No matter his feelings on the matter, he did understand why the boy would want the weapon with him. He had seen Tavis training with Xaver MarCullet in the courtyard of Audun’s Castle. Whatever the young lord’s limitations with a dagger, he had some skill with the longer blade. And, as it turned out, this sword belonged to Xaver; no doubt Tavis took some comfort in carrying it with them on this journey.

“Forgive us, my lady,” Grinsa said, relaxing his stance and returning his weapon to the sheath on his belt. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tavis do the same. “We’ve only just arrived in Wethyrn today and our previous travels have taken us places that are somewhat less hospitable.”

“I see,” she answered, sounding unconvinced.

“Can we be of service in some way?”

She seemed to consider this for several moments, her eyes flicking from one of them to the other and finally coming to rest on Tavis’s face. “I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “Forgive me for disturbing you.”

She turned to go.

“You heard us asking about the singer,” Grinsa said.

The woman halted, though she kept her back to them.

“You know him?” A moment later, he answered his own question. “Of course you do. Why else would you have stopped us?”

“I just want to go,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I don’t want any trouble.”

It was the last thing Grinsa had expected, though it shouldn’t have been. They were tracking an assassin. “I assure you, my lady, we have no intention of harming you.” He paused. “But you do know him, don’t you?”

She nodded, turning slowly to face them once more. “I heard you say that you were his friends and that you were looking for him. And since I’m looking for him, too, I thought that perhaps we could help each other.”

“Perhaps we can.”

Their eyes met, and in that moment Grinsa knew: she and the singer had been lovers.

“I don’t think so,” she told him. She nodded toward Tavis. “I see his scars, and I see the way both of you draw blades at the least hint of danger. You’re no friend of his.”

The gleaner considered denying this, but he didn’t bother. She wouldn’t have believed him.

“It’s important that we find him, my lady.”

“Did he give those scars to the boy?”

“He didn’t wield the blade, but he’s as responsible for them as anyone. Does that surprise you?”

She shrugged, looking off to the side. “Not really. But it tells me that the boy must have wronged him in some way.”

“I didn’t,” Tavis said, his voice hard and low. “I did nothing to him, and he killed the one-”

Grinsa laid a hand on his arm, stopping him. “It’s all right,” he whispered.

“Who did he kill?” she asked, her eyes wide.

“My lady-”

“Tell me.”

“He killed someone dear to my friend here. That’s all you need to know.”

“But he would have had a reason. He doesn’t kill for the sake of killing. I know him better than that.”

“You’re right,” Tavis said savagely. “He doesn’t do it for the sake of killing. He murders for gold.”

Abruptly, she lifted a hand to her mouth, taking a sharp breath. “Gods!” she whispered, recognition in her eyes. “I had thought he might be a mercenary, or perhaps a thief. But it never occurred to me. . He’s an assassin.”

“What can you tell us of your time with him?” Grinsa asked.

“I’m not certain I want to tell you anything.”

Tavis glared at her. “He kills for money. And still you protect him?”

“I didn’t know him as a killer. I knew him as a musician, and as. . as a friend.”

Grinsa gestured toward the tavern door. “Can we sit together and speak of this, my lady? My friend can be a bit too direct, but he does make a point. You may care for this man, you may even love him, but that doesn’t change who and what he is. You say that you know him as a singer; you may have known him to be kind as well. But I assure you that in time, he’ll kill again.”