Cautiously picking up a steaming root, Ra-khir took a small bite, closed his mouth, and savored the sweetly starchy flavor. Luckily, it was not hot enough to burn his tongue, and he followed it with a swig of what turned out to be excellent ale.
By the time Ra-khir swallowed, the first question reached him.
"Knights of Erythane cannot lie, can they?"
Though more interested in his food, Ra-khir knew the conversation had to take precedence. He had an obligation to help a society overcome ignorant bigotry, especially against his family. "It is against our code of honor to do so.The Order would never maintain a knight who had knowingly spoken falsehoods."The explanation seemed unnecessary. Even if knights spent their entire existence spewing lies, anyone answering such a query would say nothing different than Ra-khir had. "A knight would willingly die rather than forsake his honor in such a way."
Again, the common room buzzed with conversation, this time accompanied by nods. Ra-khir pounced on the opportunity to eat and drink, cursing the deeply ingrained manners that forced him to do so slowly and with decorum. He wanted nothing more than to tear into that food, without having to worry what dripped down his chin, what soiled his uniform, or what noises accompanied his feast. But, ever the proper knight, Ra-khir attended to every manner as the men in the common room came to a consensus. His father's words, an echo of his own, haunted him. Remember this: anything you say or do reflects back on the Knights of Erythane, on King Humfreet and on King Griff, who you represent.
At last, the largest man at his table, who now also nursed food and ale, spoke. "Sir Ra-khir, we have been taught since infancy to dread Renshai. They are the demons who steal away naughty children in the night, the cause of every inexplicable death because they need to drink our blood to keep their youth and vitality. But none of us has encountered a Renshai, at least not that we recognized as anything but another man. If a Knight of Erythane swears that these self-same Renshai are our fellows and our allies, we have no choice but to believe and trust you."
Ra-khir nodded with respect though his thoughts raced. He could scarcely believe he had solved a centuries-old problem with a single proclamation. Is it really this easy? He knew the truth, had witnessed it in Bearn and in Erythane, where they knew firsthand that the Renshai served as faithful bodyguards to the princes and princesses, where Renshai assisted them in every skirmish. It did not take much to scrape off the veneer of tolerance and find a teeming mass of festering hatred beneath it. Still, a surface layer of forbearance was a start. "Leave them in peace, and the Renshai will not bother you. Ask them for assistance in wars and battles, and they will happily provide it."
After that, the male citizenry of Dunford dug into their repasts, and Ra-khir finally got a chance to eat-unhurriedly and with proper etiquette.
CHAPTER 24
Hundreds of years have not bred the ferocity out of wolves, nor Renshai either.
Ra-khir shoved his wishes to the back corner of his mind, choosing instead to spend the night at the inn in Dunford. His heart told him he could survive days without sleep, that need would keep him moving long after his limbs collapsed and his eyes refused to remain open. But Ra-khir knew better. Whatever he might find himself capable of tolerating, he could not inflict that nightmare on Silver Warrior. He needed information as well as speed, to spread the true word about the Renshai, and to get enough rest to handle all situations properly. Whatever else he wanted or needed, he was a Knight of Erythane first. Sleepless men did not make the best or most rational decisions.
The familiar work of readying Silver Warrior soothed Ra-khir. He tended every hair with curry and brush, though the young groom had already done an impressive job for him. He rewove the blue-and-gold ribbons through mane and tail, his thoughts directed and certain. He knew which route the Renshai must have taken. Banned from the West and North, they could only go eastward. Reins in hand, Ra-khir cinched the saddle into place, gave Silver Warrior a solid affectionate pat with his gloved hand, and prepared to mount.
A man standing nearby sidled closer, just enough to violate Ra-khir's personal space. Without a hint of discomfort, Ra-khir turned.
As the knight's gaze swept him, the man's face turned from pale pink to blushing scarlet. "Sir Knight," he blurted out. "I… I don't know if this is significant…"
Ra-khir smiled and nodded encouragingly. "Please tell me."
"Well, the night before the… the Renshai visited, a man came all the way from Erythane."
"Another knight?" Ra-khir puzzled over the news, seeking its significance. He knew of no one who had made the journey.
"Not a knight, a plain middle-aged man. He carried a pocket load of Northern coins." The Dunforder shook his head, "Several gold pieces, more silver and copper. He bought a round for the regulars in the name of a nephew who he said had been murdered."
Ra-khir's brows beetled. Killings happened in a city as large as Erythane, and sometimes relatives attributed foul motives to even the most accidental of deaths. "What name was this?"
The man's shoulders rose and fell, accompanied by a small huff of breath. "I don't recall. But he spent quite a bit of money on gewgaws and trinkets, women and luxury clothing, including a pair of silk shoes and a pointed cap with an enormous tassel. When he left, though, he was still a wealthy man."
"Hmmm." Ra-khir had no idea who this man might be, nor if the information held any importance, but he appreciated knowing anything out of the ordinary. "Thank you for letting me know, kind sir."
"You're quite welcome."
Ra-khir flipped the reins over Silver Warrior's head and prepared to mount again, only to be interrupted by another man.
"Excuse me, sir."
Though impatient to chase down his children, Ra-khir obligingly gave the stranger his attention. The Dunforder wore gray linens with long, tattered sleeves. A bow and quiver lay slung over his shoulder. A mop of brown hair flopped over his head and half his face.
"I thought you should know that those Renshai aren't the only army in the area."
That gained Ra-khir's full interest. "Odd that. Who else is out there?"
"Northmen, by the look of them, maybe some Erythanians, too. Lots of blonds, talking in some odd language. I'd have thought those your Renshai, except they had spears and axes and everyone knows Renshai only use swords. Armor, too. And there weren't any women."
Ra-khir's heart seemed to stop beating, and his hand raised to his suddenly tight chest. "How… how many did you see?"
"Hundreds. They didn't come to town, but I'm a hunter. I saw them on the road."
"Thank you." Bad as it sounded, Ra-khir appreciated having the news. There could be only one reason the Northmen had chosen to travel south and east. They were following the Renshai. It only remained to be seen whether they did so to ascertain the Renshai kept their vow to leave the Westlands, or to brutally slaughter them all before they reached the East. "Thank you for the information and the hospitality." He swung up into the saddle, taking the reins.
"Knights of Erythane are always welcome here," the hunter assured him, stepping away from Ra-khir and Silver Warrior.
Tipping his hat to the crowd gathered to see him off, Ra-khir trotted toward the packed dirt roadway.
East of Dunford and north of the Southern Weathered Mountains, Calistin dragged into his first Western city, his tattered, filthy cloak rain-plastered to skin and jerkin and his hair in wild spikes. The sky had barely lost the sun beyond its western horizon, leaving a cloud-swollen haze that guided him through the muddy streets. He slogged between rows of simple cottages, their thatched roofs swollen with water, their inhabitants locked in against the weather. Bedraggled chickens huddled beneath the overhangs.