“Soth and I could go down and see what we can do,” offered Seth. When Riyan turned toward him he added, “Alone, we can blend in with the locals.”
Riyan shook his head. “No. If Bart should communicate with Kevik again, we may need to move and move fast. It would be best if you were with us.”
Chad glanced to his friend. “I say we go down together to see what’s going on,” he stated. When the others turned toward him, he added, “That way should he communicate again, we would be in a better position to respond quickly.”
“I agree,” Riyan said.
Chyfe looked at the two friends and could see reason beginning to return. “Alright,” he agreed. “But first we need to make a stop.”
Ten minutes later, they were moving along the street at a brisk pace, but not so fast as to generate attention. Chyfe and Chad carried bolts of cheap, inexpensive cloth they just purchased a few minutes ago from a chandler’s shop near the inn.
“Carrying these,” Chyfe had explained, “who would think we were up to no good?”
“You have a point,” agreed Riyan. The delay acquiring the purchases had grated on him, but he understood the wisdom of Chyfe’s plan. Now to any who saw them, they were simply out for a shopping spree.
Glancing to Kevik he asked, “Anything?”
Kevik shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied.
The street along which they moved led toward the gates of the castle area. Their first intention was to see if they could discover what was going on beyond the gates. But when they arrived, they found them closed with a large crowd milling before them.
“Heard it was an assassin come to kill Lord Kueryn,” one woman was saying to another.
“That’s not what I heard,” the second woman replied. “I heard they had uncovered a northern spy.”
“Whatever the reason,” the first lady said, “I wish they’d open the gates so I could…”
As they worked their way closer to the gates, other snippets of conversation came their way. Most were in agreement about an assassin, though a few held to the belief it was a spy.
“At least we know he hasn’t been captured yet,” commented Chyfe.
“What makes you say that?” asked Chad.
Chyfe gestured to the gates. “If he had been captured, the gates would be open,” he explained.
“That’s good to know,” said Riyan. Pulling Seth closer, he nodded to a squad of guards standing before the gates. “Go over and see what they know.”
“Alright,” he replied before heading over.
Riyan and the others came to a stop some distance away while waiting for Seth’s return. Conversations around them begun to die out as the locals took notice of their pale skin.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” mumbled Chyfe. Still holding the package of cloth, he glanced around at the stares being directed their way. “So,” he asked a nearby couple, “what’s going on?”
The man’s eyes narrowed as he turned his attention toward Chyfe. For a brief moment Chyfe wasn’t sure if he planned to respond or not. Then the man said, “Trouble in the castle.”
“Oh?” asked Chad. Coming to stand beside Chyfe, he asked, “Nothing serious I hope?” He made sure that the bolt of cloth he held was in clear view of the couple.
The lady holding the man’s arm shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it,” she replied. “Seems they caught an assassin before he had a chance to strike.”
“Well that is good news,” Chyfe said, feigning relief.
“I heard someone say the assassin was going after Lord Kueryn,” Soth stated.
“That’s what they say,” the man affirmed. He visibly relaxed once Soth joined the conversation.
“We’re from up north,” he told the man. “My brother and I are here to inquire about trade contracts for the coming spring.” The explanation relaxed the man even further. “Who is Lord Kueryn? This is the first we’ve been to your fair city and I don’t recall ever hearing the name before.”
“That’s his real name,” the lady explained. “Mostly he’s known as the River Man.”
Soth nodded. “Now that’s a name I’ve heard,” he said with a grin. “Why is he called the River Man if you don’t mind my asking?”
The man sighed in resignation as his wife explained. “Being the second son in the royal house, it was never thought he would one day be Warlord of the Orack Tribe. From the stories that have been told, he was a wild one in his youth. And since his older brother would become Warlord, he was allowed to do pretty much as he wished. His one love was being on the river.”
“And that’s why he’s called the River Man?” inquired Soth.
“The name didn’t come about until his eighteenth year,” she stated. “You see, that was when he ran the Wrath of Hennon.”
“Wrath of Hennon?” asked Chyfe.
She nodded and pointed in the general direction of the river flowing outside the city walls. “The Cariz River which flows to the south from the lake enters a deep canyon far to the south. There it is joined by two other rivers, the Fean and the Ungen. They say that during the spring rains, it is death to ride the waters.”
“I take it he did?” Soth asked.
The woman nodded. “Yes, in the spring of his eighteenth year. The fact that he survived gave rise to the belief that water cannot kill him. And thus, he’s called the River Man.”
“Interesting story,” Soth said. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“You’re welcome young man,” she said.
About that time, Seth returned from speaking with the guards. They moved away from the couple and gathered together. “They don’t know anything,” he explained to the others.
Riyan turned toward the wall and gazed at its imposing height while he contemplated what they should do. He finally came to realize there was nothing they could do until they discovered Bart’s exact location. Off to the side of the plaza was one of the eateries common to the city. He suggested to the others they move there and wait in order to avoid arousing suspicion. As they headed to the eatery, Riyan couldn’t help but worry for the fate of his friend.
The crevice was growing narrower the further he went. Also, water continued to be a nuisance as it trickled down the sides making hand and footholds treacherous. From time to time his feet would slip on a patch of algae and it would take a second or two for him to find a secure placement before continuing.
He had long since ceased debating the folly of this venture. What had he been thinking? But he was still loose, and as long as that situation continued, there was a chance he could get out of it.
Bart’s thoughts kept returning to the magic user with the ball of purplish light upon his palm. Whatever that ball of light was, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had led them to him. But how? He was sure he hadn’t alerted anyone to his presence as he passed through the hallways. He had been most careful about such things.
How far had he climbed so far? In the absolute darkness surrounding him, he couldn’t be sure. Bracing his feet in cracks along the sides of the crevice, he paused a moment to give his aching arms a break. Between swimming against the current and now the climbing, they were beginning to feel it.
“Couldn’t have been too far,” he said to himself as he rubbed his arms. Shivering from the cold, he tried to bring a hint of warmth back into his body.
In his pack, the waterlogged Cloak would afford him little protection from the cold. Nestled in the bottom alongside his lockpicks and darts, was the tube lantern and a half dozen small candles. He longed to use his tube lantern, but if someone saw light coming from where there shouldn’t be any, it was all over.
Thoughts of Riyan came to him. What were they doing? Had the powers that be connected them to him? He thought that unlikely, but strangers were always the first ones to be questioned when troubles arose. And a Byrdlon trespasser would raise many questions. Worry gnawed at him and so his thumb rotated the ring on his finger as he thought of Kevik.