Thoughit meant falling farther behind, Ra-khir took the time to dry out and neaten himself, his steed, and his gear before riding into the first Western city he and Darby came upon. He had no way of knowing exactly what route his boys had taken, but it seemed logical to ride straight northward and ask about them as he traveled.They would stand out in the small villages and towns, not only for being strangers but for the oddness of their trio: one enormous redhead, one wiry and dark, and the last childlike and as golden-pale as any Northman; and yet all brothers. Their obvious weaponry would also draw attention, and Ra-khir knew no Renshai would ever hide his swords.
As promised, Ra-khir never forgot that he represented the Knights of Erythane. By the time they found the first small village, he had combed his hair, washed out every stain, straightened each bit of his clothing, groomed his steed to gleaming white, and properly worked the ribbons back into Silver Warrior's mane and tail. Darby watched each chore with fanatical interest, as if to memorize not just the actions but Ra-khir's individual movements and even his breathing. That Darby's intentions were sincere, Ra-khir never doubted, and he promised himself not to let circumstances drive him to irritability. Darby meant only well, and his intensity would make him not only a bother, but an excellent knight candidate.
Forest gave way to farmland, which opened onto a quaint little village. Though it was broad daylight, few people walked the streets, still muddy from the rain. Water dripped from the thatched roofs of myriad cottages, and the people Ra-khir passed seemed not to notice them at all. They kept their eyes downcast and conversed only in ragged whispers.
For the first time since leaving Erythane, Ra-khir made it all the way to the central tavern seemingly unnoticed. Intending only a short stay for information, he hitched Silver Warrior to a nearby railing, tended briefly to the animal's comfort, then waited while Darby did the same for his mount. Almost immediately, the stallion dropped his head, eyes closed, to nap.
Ra-khir held the door open for Darby but entered first, as good sense warranted. More trouble lurked in unfamiliar drinking places than on quiet village streets, and he had a duty to protect his smaller, younger charge.
The door opened on a warm tavern with only nine tables, all but one unoccupied. A few more stools stood empty around a rickety, wooden bar. A dying fire flickered in its grate. Though stale, the odors of last night's dinner and spilled ale piqued Ra-khir's hunger. Travel rations could not compare with a home cooked meal, even if it only consisted of cold leftovers.
Since he needed information, Ra-khir chose the barstool nearest the occupied table. Four men sat around it, talking softly in a huddled mass. A stout barkeep approached, his beard outlining a face filled with a combination of discomfort and outrage. He leaned on the counter, which groaned under his weight, and displayed flabby, freckled arms. "Good day. What can I get for you men?"
Darby grinned as he took the stool beside Ra-khir, clearly pleased at being addressed as a man.
Ra-khir hated to spoil Darby's thrill, but it needed doing. "We'll have two plates of whatever you have, please. Some ale for me, and a bowl of goat milk for the boy."
The barkeep turned, muttering something under his breath, of which Ra-khir caught only the word "boy."
Believing he would get more information from the gathered men than the prickly barkeep, Ra-khir turned toward them and waited to catch one's eye.
It took longer than he expected, but a burly, coarse-featured man finally looked his way.
Ra-khir smiled. "I apologize for interrupting, but I wondered if any of you gentlemen might have seen three young strangers pass through here recently?"
Heads shook, a few mumbled words passed between them, then the one who Ra-khir had addressed finally answered. "No groups of strangers, sir. Only one."
A younger man covered in dirt added, "Aye, one we wish had never come." He squinted, studying Ra-khir. "Pardon me, sir; but are you a knight?"
Ra-khir rose from his seat as courtesy demanded and gave his familiar introduction with a bow and a flourish. At the conclusion, he had the full attention of all four of the men.
"Pleased to meet you, Sir Ra-khir," the burly man said. "Pardon us if we wish you could have gotten here a few nights earlier."
Ra-khir could only give the men an empathetic gesture and his attention. He had had no way of knowing they had need for a Knight of Erythane. "Oh? What happened then?"
"Stranger came in here." This time the eldest at the table spoke, a squat man with sagging, weather-beaten skin in faded leathers. "Not much more'n a boy, really. Challenged one of our best farmers to a duel, which he naturally refused."
As the speaker paused for breath, the first man took over the narrative. "But the stranger wouldn't stop badgering him until they had that duel. And the boy butchered ol' Karruno right out there in the street, then walked away like it weren't nothing."
Ra-khir's throat squeezed. He had to know. "Was this stranger a childlike blond with absolutely no sense of humor and two swords at his hips?"
All four men stared. At length, one spoke. "Sure was. Is Erythane looking for him?"
"No," Ra-khir said honestly. "But I am. Personally. He didn't happen to leave his name, did he?"
"I heard he did, sir," the younger man said, putting his ale aside. "But no one remembers exactly what it was. They say it started with Cal, sir."
Ra-khir only nodded as thoughts raced through his mind. Calistin had come here alone, causing trouble.Thialnir was right, Calistin did need the wisdom of his older brothers; but, apparently, they had not caught up with him. At least not as of that previous evening.
Darby watched the exchange in total silence. Ra-khir appreciated that he did not blurt out anything regarding Renshai or Ra-khir's direct relationship to Calistin. He already felt responsible.
"Does Karruno have a widow? Children?" Ra-khir knew money would not make up for such a loss, and it would seem crass to offer; yet the man's family would need something to tide them over until they found relatives to assist them. If he gave his coinage directly to them, no one would know.
A few of them chuckled. The first man replied. "No, sir. A lot of women was interested, but he wasn't ready to settle down."
The news relieved Ra-khir of some of his burden, but he still felt responsible for the tragedy. Relatives or other farmers would take over Karruno's property and deal with his crops and livestock, but no one could ever truly replace the man himself. He looked at Darby, making no effort to hide his pain.
Darby made a noncommittal gesture but remained silent. It was not his place to speak.
The barkeep swept back in to toss down two plates of meat, tubers, and vegetables along with the requested drinks. He paused suddenly, studying his patrons more carefully. "Hello. You wouldn't happen to be Sir Ra-khir, a Knight of Erythane, would you?"
Ra-khir's heart skipped a beat. They know. Nevertheless, he would not lie, even if it meant taking the punishment for his son's indiscretion. "I am."
The barkeep nodded smugly. "Thought I recognized a man of character."
Ra-khir felt grimly undeserving of the compliment.
"Messenger rode through this morning. If we saw you, we were to tell you to go back to Erythane."
"Back to-" Ra-khir could scarcely believe it. His father knew he had no intention of returning without finding his missing sons. Clearly, Calistin needed someone with common sense to guide him.
"Apparently, Bearn's under attack, and they need every able sword arm."
No! Ra-khir knew as much about the Pirate Wars as anyone, yet no one had ever before considered it frank warfare. Apparently, something had changed for the worse. If Bearn needed him, he had no choice but to abandon everything and return. He looked at Darby. "As soon as we finish eating, I need to take you home."
Darby took a long gulp, then turned Ra-khir a stern look that brooked no argument. "My 'home' is now Erythane. I have as much right to protect the high king's city as anyone." His brave words would have landed more forcefully had he not sported a mustache of goat's milk.