The four of them took supper in their room that night. With The Shade Brotherhood at port, it made sense to keep out of sight. Their pursuers would no doubt already be searching for them—and it was just fortunate that Idriss was a large enough city to hide in overnight. Nonetheless, they would need a quick and early start the following morning to ensure no one spied them.
There was a full house tonight downstairs in the common room of The Sailor’s Rest. As she made her way up the narrow creaking stairs, Lilia listened to the rumble of voices and the bursts of coarse laughter rising up from below. This place intimidated her—the whole city did—and she was glad they were not joining the other patrons for supper.
Upstairs in the damp, drafty room that overlooked the city and the Bay of Idriss, the four travelers sat down on their respective sleeping pallets and waited for their meal of bread, cheese, salted pork and a jug of ale to arrive.
Lilia shifted uncomfortably on her pallet, aware that Saul's gaze kept straying to her. She glanced his way to see him watching her under lowered lids. His expression was appreciative.
“I see you’ve adopted a new look?” he murmured.
She nodded, her cheeks warming under his scrutiny. “Aye—skirts aren’t practical for riding.”
She was aware then of Dain’s stare. His gaze flicked between her and Saul. Their argument earlier had already made it clear that he disliked Saul. Yet the look on his face now revealed it went deeper than that.
Uncomfortable, Lilia’s attention shifted to the pallet opposite, where Ryana lay. She had stretched out on her back, her long legs crossed over at the ankles with her hands behind her head. The enchanter looked drained and pale, and was quieter than usual.
“Ryana, how was your trip to get supplies?” Lilia asked, hoping to draw Saul's and Dain's attention away from her.
Ryana looked up, her gaze narrowing slightly. “It went well enough,” she replied. “Saul has secured four fast horses for tomorrow. We have everything we need for the journey—and your friend here knows how to strike a good bargain.”
Lilia glanced at Saul to find him grinning. "I told you. Just because I’m a prince, doesn’t mean I don't know the value of coin. That sloop was a fine craft, and I wasn't going to let her go for less than she was worth.”
Ryana gave Saul a withering look: one that made Lilia wonder if the two of them had argued this afternoon. The pair of them weren’t friends, but there was a tension between them there hadn’t been earlier. Both Saul and Ryana had said very little since returning to the inn.
Ryana broke the tense silence, turning her attention back to Lilia. “It’s good you’ve been kitted out in more practical clothes,” she said with a tight smile. “And you’ve got a weapon too?”
"I thought it best the bearer of The King Breaker was armed on this journey.” Dain spoke up. "Lilia needs to be able to defend herself."
"She's got the three of us to look after her, hasn't she?" Saul drawled.
“Aye,” Dain replied. "But who's going to protect her from you?"
Saul laughed, although to Lilia it sounded forced. She saw the look that passed between the two men; at this rate it was only a matter of time before an argument erupted.
It was time to change the subject.
Lilia caught Dain’s eye. “I heard what the tailor said to you,” she began quietly, “about the war between Anthor and Thûn. Do you think it’s true?”
Dain shrugged, his gaze flicking back to Saul. “Did you know that your father has attacked Thûn?”
Saul’s face was a mask of schooled boredom. “My father and his neighbors have rarely seen eye to eye,” he replied. “It’s not a surprise to me that relations between him and King Aron have deteriorated.”
Across the room Ryana sat up and leaned forward. “So you had no idea that an invasion was imminent?”
Saul held her gaze. “My father’s politics don’t interest me.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Saul smiled. “Believe what you want—I couldn’t care less.”
Ryana’s face hardened. “So you don’t care that Serran is at war?”
Again, another smile. “Evidently not.”
A row may have erupted then, for Ryana’s face went white and pinched, and her mouth thinned. However, the inn-keeper chose that moment to knock on the door. A moment later his voice rumbled through the thick oak. “I’ve brought your supper.”
Hrolf entered, with his son—a lad of around ten years—behind him. They carried in platters of food and drink.
“Good eve,” Hrolf grunted. He set the platters down on the table. “Supper will cost you two bronze talents.”
Wordlessly, Saul climbed to his feet in a fluid movement, and dug into the purse at his belt.
He handed the inn-keeper the bronze talents, as well as another of silver.
Hrolf’s eyes widened, and he shot Saul a questioning look.
Saul smiled. “If anyone comes here, asking after me or my friends, you’ve never seen us.”
Hrolf held eye contact for a few moments before he nodded.
When the inn-keeper and his son had left the room, Ryana leaped to her feet. “Why did you do that?”
Saul gave her a dismissive look before helping himself to some bread and cheese. “Just ensuring Hrolf keeps his mouth shut.”
“All you’ve done is made him suspicious. What makes you think he’ll not sell you to the first person who comes knocking?”
Saul snorted. “He won’t—he knows what’s good for him.”
Ryana made a choking sound, as if forcing back her anger. “That might be so but, in future, consult us before you make lordly gestures.”
In response, Saul gave Ryana an infuriating smile before turning his back on her and crossing to his sleeping pallet. Ryana glared at his back and then helped herself to food off the table. Her movements were sharp and jerky, a sign of the anger she was only just managing to leash.
Lilia and Dain both got to their feet and served themselves some supper. Outside the open window, the sky had gone the color of a bruise and a chill seeped in. Lilia went over to the window and closed the wooden shutters, bolting them shut.
“It’s cold for this time of year, isn’t it?” she observed.
None of the others answered. Either her companions hadn’t heard her, or they were too preoccupied with their own thoughts to care.
The evening passed slowly, in contrast to the urgency of the last two days. It felt odd, almost as if time stood still for the night.
Lilia sat on her pallet, back against the damp stone wall, and mulled over the events that had brought her to the mainland. Ever since that morning in the yard outside The Grey Anchor, things had happened so fast she’d barely had time to dwell on them.
In an instant, her life had been uprooted. The King Breaker lay like a lump of ice against her skin, a constant reminder of why she was here. Since fleeing Port Needle, her shadow had been mercifully silent. Apart from her trips to the privy, the others never left her alone for a moment. Despite that she wasn’t sure about her choice of travelling companions, Lilia was grateful they were with her nonetheless.
I’m not capable of doing this on my own.
Just the thought her companions might abandon her caused Lilia to break out in a cold sweat. She looked up from her introspection, her gaze sweeping around the room. Dain and Saul were both stretched out, dozing, on their pallets, whereas Ryana was sitting up, her back against the wall. The enchanter stared out into space, her gaze inward.
“Ryana …”
The woman blinked and glanced Lilia’s way. “What?”
“This silence, it’s getting to me.”
A wry smile twisted Ryana’s lips. “I was enjoying it.”
“I’m used to keeping busy,” Lilia replied quietly. “The evenings at The Grey Anchor are the busiest time.”
Ryana shrugged. “Things will be different now—your only purpose is to keep that stone safe till we reach the capital.”
Lilia watched her a moment. Ryana was an enigma. She had liked the light-hearted scop with the independent spirit she had known back on Orin—but she wasn’t sure about this woman. Ryana had a watchfulness she didn’t trust. Plus, she had a temper and bitterness that bubbled just under the surface. Nevertheless, they were stuck with each other for the moment, and the enchanter’s abilities could prove useful if The Brotherhood caught up with them again.
The thought of those men, dark silhouettes clad in leather against the skyline as they closed the gap, made her pulse quicken.
She licked her lips, which suddenly felt dry. She was tired of feeling scared all the time. It was different now though—in the past her fears had been nameless, nebulous. These days she had a real reason to be frightened.
“Will your Order be able to help me?” she asked, finally.
Ryana nodded. “They will keep you, and the stone, in safe-keeping.”
“They didn’t do such a good job last time.” Across the room, Saul had woken from his dozing, and had rolled onto his side. He was now observing Ryana coolly. “They let one of their own steal the last piece of The King Breaker.”
Lilia tensed—thank the Shadows he didn’t know the rest of the story. Not that knowing it made her feel any better. If anything, it was just another reason not to trust Ryana.
However, she didn’t want Ryana and Saul to start bickering again; her nerves were on edge as it was. She would never be able to sleep at this rate. Lilia ignored Saul’s barb and focused on the enchanter.
“Could you sing for us, Ryana?” she asked.
Ryana glanced at her, irritated. “The only songs I have in mind to sing tonight are grim ones.”
“It matters not,” Lilia assured her. Ryana’s voice had a soothing quality; Lilia didn’t care what subject she chose to sing about. “Any song will do.”
Ryana’s mouth pursed, and she cast a sharp look across the room at Saul. “Very well.” She reached down and retrieved a small harp from her leather pack. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Further along from Ryana, Dain stirred, rolled over and yawned. He peered across at Lilia, his light brown hair rumpled, and was about to speak when Ryana began to pluck at her harp.
Long, sad notes echoed through the room, transporting Lilia back to The Grey Anchor and those nights she had sat by the hearth after work listening to Ryana. Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly in response.
Then Ryana began to sing.
The dark years are upon us
Valgarth rules
Smoke in the Shadefells
Fields of cairns.
Gone are the old gods
We worship the black altar.
The dark years are upon us
Valgarth rules
United under one cruel king
An army of shadows.
Gone are the old ways
We toil for our new lord.
The dark years are upon us
Valgarth rules
Dominated, doomed
Driven like oxen.
Gone is hope, gone is the light
His shadow obscures the sun.
It was a mournful song, one that spoke of utter loss of hope—and it chilled Lilia’s blood. The song was old, crafted at a time when The Shadow King had ruled Serran. Although Lilia knew the story of the dark enchanter who had seized power all those years ago, and his reign of terror, she had never felt it till this moment. Until now those dark years had only ever been a story, safely buried in the past.
For the first time Lilia sensed what it felt like to lose your freedom, to lose hope. The stone around her neck was responsible for locking The Shadow King away in his mountain prison—yet it was also part of the key that could set him free.
I can’t let that happen.
A hollow silence followed once Ryana’s voice had died away. Dain looked troubled and even Saul wasn’t smiling.
Saul cleared his throat. “You weren’t lying—I’ve never heard anything so depressing.”
Ryana and Saul’s gazes met and held.
“It’s a reminder,” Ryana said quietly. “What happened in the past, can come to pass again.”
Saul gave her a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you sing us a bawdy tavern tune instead?”
Ryana shook her head and tucked away her harp into her pack. “I’m not in the mood.”