A snoop without magic, p.4
A Snoop Without Magic, page 4
“A mild poison for most,” Sam said. “The dust is from the yellow wort and upsets a person’s system. Ankras almost lost his youngest son to it.”
Latruse looked stunned. “I wouldn’t do such a thing to a child. I have three little girls.”
Sam nodded to Desmon.
“There are a few people who would do such a thing,” Desmon said. “We had an interesting conversation with Lord Ankras and his staff and came up with a list.”
“A list? What kind of list?” Moe Latruse said, elbowing his way to Lord Latruse and Desmon. “Why would you need a list of names? Red persimmons are grown in the North, as is the yellow wort that makes pale blue poison,” he said. “It has to be a northern lord.”
Sam smiled. Sometimes it was easy to find the perpetrator. Moe had all but said he framed his cousin. Now they had to prove it, and that was where Desmon came into the picture.
“A northern lord, you say?” Desmon said. “Whoever heard of red persimmons? I never have. The only ones I have seen are a deep shade of orange. How can you be certain they have red persimmons in the North?”
“Everyone knows that,” he said.
“I didn’t, until now,” Lord Latruse said. “And I never knew that yellow wort would have a different color powder other than yellow.” His expression had a suspicious look. “How did you know these things, cousin?”
“I get around more than you, Peer,” Moe said. “Maybe you should travel to the North like I have.”
“And when did you last visit those domains?” Desmon asked.
Moe turned nearly as red as the persimmons. “A few months ago. Peer knows that.”
“I do,” Latruse said. “You were there to buy some new seed. Did you buy red persimmons, too?”
Moe smiled confidently. “Persimmons wouldn’t have lasted all this time, so it couldn’t be me,” he said.
Desmon smiled and Sam. “Except for the fact these aren’t really red persimmons.” He took a water bottle from his saddlebag and poured it over the persimmon that Sam had uncovered, washing away the bluish power to show the mottled red-orange skin beneath.
“That looks like our persimmons,” Latruse said. “What is going on here, Moe?”
The cousin finally looked a little cowed. “You can’t prove anything,” he said, looking at Desmon. “You are a foreigner, anyway. Who can trust you?”
“I didn’t ask our guest the question,” Latruse said. “I asked you.” He looked at one of his men. “Get one of our persimmons to compare. I’m sure there are some in the kitchen.”
Moe’s eyes began to shift between Desmon and Latruse. Sam had worked his way behind Moe. The man returned with three persimmons.
“Let us compare,” Latruse said. He put the poisoned fruit next to the others, and it was clear they were the same variety. His eyes swiveled to his cousin. “How would a northern lord get our persimmons?”
Moe backed up and was about to flee, but Sam imagined a block of pollen around the man’s ankles. He stumbled and fell. No one else could see his restraints.
Latruse stood over him. “Were you planning to kill me during one of Willy’s raids? Then you would take over the domain, since you are next in line after my family? Would you try to kill them, too, just like you might have done to Willy’s little boy?”
Moe clamped his lips tight. “I won’t say another word.”
“You won’t have to,” Ganash said. “I’ve seen enough. I don’t care what you do to your cousin, but Willy won’t be happy. I’ll make sure he visits you without all his men.”
Latruse nodded and looked at his cousin. “Have you done something that I should execute you for? Or would banishment be a fairer punishment?”
“Not exile,” Sam said. “Exile is never permanent.” He thought of his own situation.
“I will withhold judgment until I talk to Willy Ankras,” Lord Latruse said.
~
Later, after Moe Latruse met an unpleasant end, Sam and Glory sat on the steps leading up to the manor.
“Why did you have Desmon do all the talking?” Glory asked.
“So I could be in a position to stop the cousin without being too noticeable.”
“And what would you do if the cousin wasn’t the culprit?” she said.
“Then we would be traveling north, I guess,” Sam said. “We might be traveling north anyway. I would just as soon make our way out of Duar as quickly as possible, but I’ve been thinking, maybe we can go through Gruellia and come down through Mount Vannon?”
“Not a bad idea. The border isn’t as tight until you get farther east,” Glory said. “At least that was the case five years ago when I considered fleeing to Gruellia, but I ended up going south instead.”
“Far, far south,” Desmon said with a sly grin, walking out of the manor. “What is Gruellia like, anyway?”
“Tribal rather than feudal,” Sam said. “Gruellia used to be much more barbaric, but time changes things. I’m sure it is still a confederation of tribes. The land isn’t particularly fertile like I thought Zogaz would be, but that has kept people from migrating to northern Holding.”
“I know tribal,” Desmon said. “So we head north?” He smiled. “Maybe we shouldn’t. Lord Latruse, Peer, said the domains to the north of his were belligerent.”
“They all are except Latruse and Ankras,” Glory said. “I was listening.”
Sam laughed. “So after we pick up Emmy, we head east and then north closer to the Duar border.” He consulted his map again and made sure they would travel on main roads. That made them safer, according to Lord Ankras, who was a little more frank with them about the dangers in Duar than Latruse had been, who seemed to look at life through a softer light.
~
“Are you sure you don’t want to spend more time in my domain?” Lord Latruse said.
“You are welcome to spend as much time with us as you wish,” Margritte said, while she helped cut some meat for her youngest girl. “Latruse is a wonderful domain.”
Sam smiled. “I have other things to do,” he said, but Sam presently didn’t know exactly what those ‘other things’ were. “I like the Latruse domain better than Ankras Keep.”
Margritte leaned over and touched Sam’s arm. “You are so nice and so talented.”
Sam just nodded and smiled. He didn’t want to talk about himself and looked forward to leaving tomorrow for Ankras Keep to fetch Emmy and head to Gruellia.
Chapter Five
~
T hey were three days north of Ankras Keep, early in the morning, when an arrow slid past Sam’s face.
“Stop!” The voice came from the thick woods that surrounded the road.
“Armor,” Desmon said quietly, not quite stopping. Sam imagined the scaled armor he usually wore and put a coat on Emmy. Another arrow stuck in Emmy’s armor. She barked and then growled. He pulled out the crossbow that Latruse had given him and loaded a warded bolt.
Another arrow flew out. Sam turned and fired into the woods. An explosion echoed in the woods and cries were heard.
“Let’s go,” Desmon said as he snapped the reins, and they proceeded out of the woods. A few men ran into the road after them, but Sam sent another bolt into their midst, thwarting the robbery.
The woods dwindled, turning into some weed-infested fields, and then once over a small hill they saw a town in the distance crowned with a castle. Sam consulted his map and found the Dulaty domain. It was one of the larger domains in Duar, at least at the time the map was drawn. Latruse emphasized that any map of Duar might change in a year as the borders and the fortunes of feudal domains could change. He hadn’t really paid much attention past Dulaty, the town which they were approaching where the main west-east road converged with a principal north-south route.
Sam looked for pursuit from behind, but didn’t see anything. The fields started looking more orderly as they got closer to the city. Desmon stopped at a roadside stand where a couple was setting up for the day.
“Did you come through Weeder’s Woods?” The woman looked amazed.
“You mean the robbers? We took care of them.”
The pair looked at them dubiously, but they saw the cast-off armor in the back of the wagon. “Fast with protection,” the man said. “Arrows can go through pollen armor.”
“I guess we were lucky their shots were off today,” Desmon said.
“Whatever. When you return, make sure to wait for a caravan to go through the woods. The bandits prey on small groups.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” the Wollian said as he urged the two horses on towards Dulaty.
“Lord Latruse could have told us,” Glory said.
Sam laughed. “I’ll bet the bandits are in the employ of the lord of the domain ahead. You can see why people might not care to visit the West Countries.”
“I have always thought that, but there is a difference when you live it,” Glory said.
“Unfortunately, there is more left to live,” Desmon said. “We have to survive the rest of Duar, and then, if Gruellia is tribal, it will be like Wollia, and that may be worse.”
“Being shot with an arrow is being shot with an arrow,” Sam said. “It doesn’t matter where.”
Desmon sighed. “I suppose you are right. Do you still have your armor on?”
Sam nodded. He had another few hours before it would fully soften. He had removed Emmy’s, and she was much happier unencumbered. They continued on until they reached the gates of Dulaty. A guard stopped them.
“Your business?”
“We are passing through on our way to Gruellia,” Desmon said. “A night in an inn, and we will be off.”
“You came through Weeder’s Wood?” The guard looked past them along the road.
Desmon nodded. “We did and had to outrun some robbers. Luckily, we are all adept at creating pollen armor and were able to make it through.”
The guard didn’t look particularly happy about their escape. He asked for a gate fee, which Desmon produced, and let them pass into Dulaty.
As they rode underneath the walls and into the town proper, Sam was a bit disappointed. He had expected more of a major crossroad. The buildings didn’t look much different from the ones in Ankras Keep, except there were more of them, but where he expected throngs, only a few people scurried about. He remembered a village in Zogaz where people behaved in much the same way. The populace was intimidated. He wondered if it was wise to spend the night in such a place, but if there was a market, they could certainly use some supplies before moving on.
Desmon stopped by a cluster of better-dressed men talking in front of a general store.
“Do you recommend an inn?” he asked.
“There isn’t a good inn between here and Praluse.”
“How far is Praluse?” Desmon asked.
“Three days to the north. There isn’t anything worthwhile to the south, unless you know a lord,” one of the men said, laughing.
“Then the best of the worst?” Desmon gave the men his best smile.
“Harpy’s Nest,” one of the men said. He looked at Glory. “Maybe not that one.” He thought a bit, but another of them said, “Willow Water. It sounds nicer than it is, but it would suit the lady, and the gentry use it. Not cheap.”
“Willow Water, then. Where is it?”
“Just head to Dulaty Castle.”
Desmon turned to Sam. “Can we afford it?”
“Barely,” Sam said, loudly enough so the men could hear.
The road wandered in the proper direction, and in a few minutes they turned into the stable yard of the Willow Water. The inn had seen better days, but it had actually seen better days where most of the buildings in Dulaty Town hadn’t. However, Sam noticed that the stables were empty.
Two young boys stopped them in the yard. “You have to pay first,” they said.
Sam went in to settle a bill for the night. He approached a man swabbing the floors in the common room. “I’d like two or three rooms for the night.,”
“We are all filled up,” the man said.
“With an empty stable? I doubt it,” Sam said.
A woman stepped into the common room. “You will have to forgive Mott,” she said. “He doesn’t like to work. Three rooms, you say?”
“Or one with two beds and one for the lady in our group.”
“Two rooms, to keep Mott happy,” the woman said, grimacing just a bit. “A silver bear will pay for rooms, dinner, and breakfast. If you want something now, you will have to go to the market.”
Sam took out his purse and gave her the coin. It was expensive, but Lord Latruse had warned him of the prices of inns in domains. The man had laughed about the inn in his domain’s village being so reasonable for a reason.
“That includes stabling our horses, wagon, and dog?”
The woman’s face pinched a bit. “Does it yap?”
“Emmy only barks when she is disturbed, She is rather large.”
“As long as Emmy doesn’t eat much…” The woman frowned.
“I will get her some food at the market.”
She looked a bit more relaxed. “One night, then?”
“One night,” Sam said.
Mott seemed to be the inside help, so Sam, Desmon, and Glory took their bags and weapons upstairs to their rooms. Sam thought a bit better of Mott when he walked in and saw beds with clean sheets and blankets folded on a bench at the bottom of the bed.
Desmon secured both rooms with obvious pollen patches since Sam’s pollen couldn’t be seen and there were no locks on the doors. Sam checked on the wand and sword at his belt as they entered the street. Mott had told them that the market was four streets to the south.
Emmy barked at a few men who gave them angry stares while they made their way through the town. The town seemed to liven up a bit as they got closer to the market square. The market wasn’t very large and took up about half of a large square surrounded by tall skinny houses.
Sam spotted a sausage vendor and bought a few sticks of the meat for Emmy, who quickly devoured them. The goods were mostly handcrafted goods, and much of them were pollen-made, but the produce looked good, and they also found a butcher’s stall with fresh-smelling meat sold at a premium. Sam wrapped the meat in pollen wrappings. There were some advantages to preserving perishable goods with pollen that were invisible to Glory and the Wollian.
Glory went off by herself for some personal items, and they headed back to the inn, having their fill of mediocre market food. At least it was hot, Sam thought.
The pollen seals had been violated when they returned, and their clothes were scattered all over their rooms. At least they had taken all their money with them. The only thing missing was the crossbow that Lord Latruse had given Sam.
“At least our wagon and horses are still in the stable yard,” Desmon said, looking out the window. Emmy barked at a stable boy poking about the wagon.
“We will see if that is the case in the morning,” Sam said.
The inn came alive in the evening. It did serve a better clientele, and Sam could see horses filling up the stables. Dinner wasn’t particularly good. The vegetables were on their second day, at the least, but the mutton in the stew tasted fresh, as well as the bread, although it tasted like sawdust. He wondered if some had made it into the dough.
Morning came sooner than Sam had wanted. The bed was lumpy, but the sheets were as clean as they looked, and he didn’t have to pick off bugs when he woke. He looked down into the stable yard as he buttoned up his shirt to see the wagon, the horses, and Emmy gone.
He found Desmon and Glory in the common room.
“Emmy has been stolen!”
“No,” Desmon said. “The Lord of Dulaty has taken them to his castle where we have been invited to lunch for a nice discussion before we leave.”
“Taking Emmy ensures we will attend, then,” Sam said.
“The horses and wagon did the same, I thought,” Desmon said. “Enjoy your breakfast. It is always good to face a nice discussion on a full stomach.”
Sam had to agree as they ate the greasy mess that Mott served.
They assembled their bags and lugged them to the castle at the appointed hour. Sam heard Emmy’s bark and found the stable. Someone had made a pollen muzzle and a leash that tied her up to the wagon. They put their possessions in the wagon before Sam covered them up with very thick pollen. Desmon followed with a covering of his own under the watchful eye of a few stable hands and guards. No one would be stealing their things while they ate lunch with the lord.
They walked back to the main entrance and presented themselves to a guard who sat at a desk in the foyer to the main hall.
“We are here for lunch with the lord of Dulaty Castle,” Desmon said.
The guard called a servant standing across the room who showed them to a small dining room just off the foyer.
They waited for at least a half-hour before Lord Dulaty and a few others walked into the room. Servants carrying platters of food followed them.
“You are obviously foreign travelers who have shown remarkable talents,” one of the men said.
“Maybe we can all introduce ourselves,” Desmon said. He gave very brief and mostly true introductions to the men.
“I am Lord Dulaty,” the man who had complimented them for their talents said.
The others were toadies. Sam barely remembered their names.
“What brings you to Dulaty?” the lord said.
“It is a stop on our way to Gruellia. We have business there before we enter Toraltia.”
“It appears that two of you may be Toraltians.” The lord looked at Glory and Sam, but then to Desmon. “But you are from Wollia? I’ve never been to the island nation before, but I’ve read about people who look like you. What is it like?”
Desmon smiled and treated them to a rather dramatic description of his home country.
The lord and his men were entertained, but then the lord asked again about Sam and Glory’s origins.
“We are originally from Toraltia,” Glory said. “I left to be educated at the University of Tolloy, as did Sam.”
“Educated people and talented. You escaped the civil war?”
