Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WindTales 02 (43 page)

“Did you meet with the ship's captain this morning, Kerm?” Sara asked, her blush betraying her growing

fondness for Weir Saur.

“Aye,” Kerm answered. He'd been there all morning, sitting with his back to the cave wall, mending a

fishing net. “He's gonna bring the magistrate back out here tomorrow.” He looked up with a sharp frown.

“Maybe this time the Viper will goad the Eel into confessing instead of wallowing on the bed bawling like

a newborn!"

Sara pursed her lips before snapping, “Weren't my fault they didn't do nothin’ but ignore one another

that day I led the Prince and the magistrate through the corridors."

“Aye, but did they do somethin’ the day you led the good captain in there just the two of you?” Kerm

grunted. He glared at Sara. “Or was the two of you the only ones doing somethin’ in there in the dark?"

Syn-Jern looked from brother to sister. From the few times he'd been able to speak to Weir, he knew

the man had fallen hard for the feisty Viragonian woman. Just how hard he'd had no idea until now.

“We was listening!” Sara defended herself and Weir, but the stain of guilt was coloring her cheeks.

“I'll bet you was listening,” Kerm snorted. “Listening to one another moaning and groaning whilst the

Serenian played hide the sausage!"

Syn-Jern sputtered with laughter, wincing at the pain such action caused in his throbbing head. He had to

turn his cheek into the pillow to still the sudden vertigo that spun his world to one side.

“What I do with my man ain't none of your concern, Kermit Gill!” Sara snapped, coming to her feet.

“You keep your filthy thoughts to yourself!” Flicking her skirt with disdain, she stormed down the

corridor.

“Go after her, Kerm,” Syn-Jern advised.

“She'll be back,” Kerm predicted with a grin. “Be raining cats and dogs out there."

In less than five minutes, Kerm's prediction came true and Sara flounced back in, sat down by the fire

and heaved a disgusted sigh.

“I'll tell you this much, Sara Elizabeth,” Kerm said, his voice serious, “if'n he don't do right by you, I'll

geld the son-of-a-bitch."

A militant look and angry grunt was Sara's answer.

“He'll do right by her,” Syn-Jern said quietly and when Sara turned a softened face to him, he smiled. “I

promise you he will."

“He told me you was kinfolk,” Sara said.

Syn-Jern nodded. “His sister, Genny, is my wife."

“And you have a son,” she added, ignoring her brother's surprised look.

“Aye,” Syn-Jern sighed, “and I miss them terribly."

“Why didn't your lady come with you?” Sara wanted to know.

“Because it wouldn't have been safe, Sara,” Syn-Jern explained. “When things heat up, they'll be looking

for me and anyone connected to me. I couldn't take a chance that Genny would be taken and...” His

eyes glazed with worry as his voice trailed off.

Sara understood his concern and let the matter drop. She wondered if he knew Genny Sorn's name was

on his tongue even in his sleep.

Syn-Jern flung away the covers, got up, and stretched. The forced rest of the last week was wearing

thin. He longed to be with his men, searching the countryside for people to help; raiding the coffers of the

Tribunal so Viragonian men and women could provide adequate food and lodging for their families. He

wanted to be riding across the green hills of this vast land, the chill wind stinging his cheeks. He ached to

feel the heft of his sword in his hand as he fought the injustice heaped on his people by the Tribunal.

Soon, it would be winter and the snows would begin falling. There would be little scavenging to do when

the weather turned foul in this far Northland.

“I had best be getting back,” Sara said and sighed. “The Eel will be scrambling back here as soon as the

weather breaks."

“Where did he go?” Syn-Jern asked.

“Don't rightly know,” Sara admitted. “He don't tell nobody nothin’ he don't have to of late.” She

frowned. “Not even the Viper."

“They'd best be talkin’ so's someone can hear ’em next time you take the magistrate and himself through

the corridors,” Kerm mumbled. “Else the magistrate will think we're pulling his leg ‘bout all this.” He sent

Syn-Jern a worried look. “Still don't think it was all that wise to bring him through here."

Syn-Jern nodded, wondering himself if Weir and Tiernan had made the right decision in showing the

local magistrate the hidden cave beneath Holy Dale. When Karl Krueger was led through the cave and

up through the hidden passage into the cellar above, Syn-Jern had hidden in the shadows, instinctively

knowing the Tribunal lawman did not need to know Syn-Jern Sorn was in the country.

“He might hate the Eel,” Kerm remarked, “but he's still a Tribunalist through and through."

And that worried Syn-Jern more than it did Kerm Gill. He had learned Tribunalists were not to be

trusted any further than they could be seen. Most were appointed, but he had learned that Krueger had

paid for his own appointment and was looking for an advance up the ladder.

“You don't think he knows we've anything to do with the NightWinds, do you?” Sara asked, her

concern evident in her voice.

“He may suspect it,” Syn-Jern replied, “but unless our men do something to actually take money out of

his own pockets, I doubt he'll cause trouble for us."

“If'n he were to turn a NightWind in, he'd sure make a name for himself in that fashion, now, wouldn't

he?” Kerm suggested.

“He'd be dead before he got a chance to do that,” Bryce Heil snapped and everyone jumped for they

hadn't heard the man come in.

“Faith, you scared the hell outta me!” Sara told him, her heart pounding.

“Don't go sneaking up on folks like that, Heil!"

Bryce ignored her. “Got some news from our contact in Ciona, Milord,” he told Syn-Jern. His broad

face was set in a hard grimace. “And you ain't gonna like it."

* * * *

The ship docked at Creel Point and the gangplank was lowered just as lightning began to streak across

the western sky.

Holding her scarf in place over her hair with one hand, Genevieve Sorn placed her free hand into the

keeping of the Chrystallusian escort who was never far from her side. “Thank you, Lin Su,” she said as

she stepped onto the gangplank.

Lin Su, a warrior from the province of Navarre, bowed to his mistress and fell into step a pace behind

her, his keen almond-shaped eyes surveying those who might hinder his lady's progress in any way. He

kept one well-trained sword hand on the hilt of his akimo blade and his instincts open to the slightest

trouble.

“Lady Saur? Lady Saur, over here!"

Genny turned, searching for the one who had spoken her name. Upon seeing the little man hurrying

toward her, she relaxed. She waved at Weir's agent at Creel Point. “Good morn to you, Dixon,” she

said, smiling.

“Welcome, Lady. Welcome!” The dwarf waddled toward her, his pudgy hand adorned with rings for

every finger, even his small thumbs. “I trust your journey was uneventful?"

“Tiresome, but uneventful,” Genny replied. She glanced up. “I am thankful we made it to port before

yonder storm."

As she spoke, thunder boomed in the distance and the wind rose.

“We had best hasten to the carriage before the onslaught starts then!” Dixon suggested and reached for

Genny's arm, but found his wrist trapped in a steely constriction that made him draw in a pained breath.

“No,” Genny said softly, putting a gentle hand on Lin Su's thick arm. “He is a friend and as such, he is

not taking liberties."

Instantly, the band of pressure was removed from Dixon's wrist and the little man stepped back, his

beady eyes narrowed at the tall warrior whose seven foot frame towered over Dixon Pait. “Who the

demon are you?” the dwarf demanded.

“His name is Lin Su,” Genny replied. “He is my Sentinel."

Dixon sniffed, not understanding the term, and was annoyed at having been—in his opinion—mauled by

the giant. “Couldn't you tell me and the lady are friends?” he grated.

Lin Su stood like an oak tree there on the wharf, his heavily muscled arms folded over a wide chest. A

smirk cocked the right side of his mouth upward, but he remained silent.

“Rude fella, ain't you?” Dixon growled, getting a creak in his neck straining to look up at the giant.

“Lin Su does not speak,” Genny explained. “He is a mute."

Understanding physical differences better than most people did not, Dixon's belligerent attitude

evaporated like water on a hot skillet. His moon-shaped face broke into a shy grin and he lifted one

pudgy little hand to Lin Su. “Good morn to you,” he said.

Lin Su did not hesitate. He engulfed Dixon's hand within the massive breadth of his own and gently

squeezed. Although he did not smile—it was not in his nature to do so—his black eyes shone with

friendliness. When he released Dixon's hand, he resumed his stoic stanch, arms crossed over his brawny

chest.

Genny looked around her. “Where is your carriage, Dix? I've no mind to get wet."

Dixon pointed to a sleek black carriage. “This way, Milady,” he replied, but made no move to take

Genny's arm again as he led his visitors to the conveyance. Nor did he attempt to help Genny inside; he

stood back for Lin Su to accomplish that courtesy. When the giant remained outside the carriage, Dixon

frowned up at him.

“You will ride inside with us, will you not, friend?” the little man asked.

Lin Su glanced at the driver, who stared back at him with openmouthed wonder, then looked to his

mistress. At her agreeing nod, Lin Su swept his hand toward the door, bidding Dixon enter first. When

the little man had trouble climbing the carriage steps, Lin Su put firm hands on the dwarf's waist and

propelled him gently into the cab, then climbed in behind him, taking a seat across from Genny.

“Thank you, friend,” Dixon said breathlessly. “That climb gets higher each time I attempt it."

Lin Su's chin dipped slightly to the side in acknowledgment.

“I took the liberty of engaging your usual room, Milady,” Dixon said, “but I did not know to book a

room for your protector."

Genny patted Dixon's hand. “That isn't a problem, Dixon. Lin Su will stay in my room with me."

Dixon's eyebrows shot up and his thin lips pursed. “I do not believe Weir would approve, Milady,” he

said firmly. “I am not sure I can allow..."

“Then we won't tell him, now, will we?” Genny interrupted.

“Lady,” Dixon stated, his face schooled into disapproving lines, “you are an unmarried woman,

traveling..."

“I am a married woman, Dixon,” Genny corrected, “traveling to join her husband in Virago."

“Married?” Dixon gasped. “When?” He blinked. “To whom?"

“A gentleman from Virago,” Genny replied. “For security reasons, I prefer not to name him at this time."

“Security reasons,” Dixon repeated, his brow creasing with worry. “Milady, this grows more and more

distressing! When your brother passed through here six months back, he made no mention of your

marriage.” The little man put a hand to his chest. “He spoke no word at all to me of such a thing. Does he

even know what you have done?"

“He knows and sanctioned it, Dixon,” Genny said gently. “Have no fear on that account. He approves

most highly of my Joining, believe me."

“Oh, dear, oh dear,” Dixon said, his attention going to Lin Su. He studied the silent warrior for a

moment, then twisted in the seat to speak earnestly to Genny. “Lady, are you in danger? Is that why you

have a bodyguard?"

Genny knew Dixon could be trusted. He had been Weir's agent for many years. She bit her lip,

wondering just how much to tell the little man. She didn't want to worry him, but neither did she want him

hounding her for information. He could be tenacious and unrelenting when he felt stones had been left

unturned.

“Lady?” Dixon questioned, his voice strained.

“Did you see any of the men with my brother when he docked here, Dixon?” she countered.

“Patrick was with him, of course. Tarnes and Neevens are like shadows of the man.” He scratched his

balding pate. “There was another older man I had never seen before, but I don't recall his name though

Patrick introduced him.” He thought, his lips pressed together, then his forehead smoothed out and his

eyes widened. “By the gods, you mean the Sorn fella!” he gasped. “The one what was in the Labyrinth!"

Genny nodded slowly. “Syn-Jern Sorn,” she replied.

“Oh, Milady!” Dixon groaned.

“What?” Genny asked in a defensive tone. “You object?"

“No, no,” Dixon sighed. “'Tis only I have heard tales...” His words faded into silence, then he slowly

looked to Lin Su. “You know him?"

Lin Su inclined his head in affirmation.

“You know the stories they tell of him?"

Lin Su lifted his hands and made gestures with his fingers.

Dixon looked to Genny for an explanation.

“He is speaking with his hands,” Genny explained. “Each sign relates to a word or a letter of the

alphabet. It is the way mutes speak to one another."

A look of intense excitement replaced the look of concern on Dixon's round face. “And you can

interpret these signs?” he asked hurriedly.

“I have been taught, aye,” Genny answered. “Patrick Kasella is fluent in the language. I believe he

learned it in the Labyrinth."

“What did this fella just say?” Dixon was intrigued.

“He said the stories are exaggerated.” She waited until Lin Su signed something else, then smiled. “He

says the only people who should fear my husband are the ones who would do harm to those Syn-Jern