Servants and Followers (The Legends of Arria, Volume 2) (35 page)

Hava sighed, writing down warrants of
arrest for the guests that had escaped, and for the woman who had
helped them. Goga had woken him up, and ordered him to get to work
on these papers. Goga just loved ordering people about, Hava
thought to himself.

“
I will find them.”
Goga said to himself and sniffed.

All night long, the guards searched for
the youths, poking about every corner of the castle grounds, even
in the western bailey, and raided every room, even those belonging
to the noble guests that had been invited to stay over at Coe Aela
for Lord Fobata’s birthday celebration. Even Lord Fobata had been
kindly asked to step out of his rooms so that the guards could
search, and the Duke of Coe Aela impatiently waited as the guards
ransacked his room, wondering if Captain Goga had gone too far over
the limits of his command. It was time to have a talk with him
again.

The guards also rounded up the serving
women, crying and screaming as they were taken from their beds or
from the tasks that they were set to perform at these late hours,
not knowing why, and friends and family members pleaded for these
women to be released. But the guards ignored them and sent the
women down to the dungeon cells below to wait for whatever reason
Goga had for doing this. Goga impatiently waited for word that the
guests were here, found, but the guards returned to him, negative
on all grounds.

Goga growled. “Fine. Organize the
search party. We will be leaving in the morning.” He coughed. His
head was pounding.

“
But the men have
been up all night, sir.” One of the guards said. “Can we not rest a
few hours?”

“
Rest? What is this
word?” Goga asked before he sneezed. “Now do as I say! I will see
those women you have captured for me.” He said, striding out of the
room and wiping his nose. “Hava!” He called back, raising a finger.
“Come with me and bring the arrest warrants with you!” He
cried.

Hava sighed, and followed after the
captain of the guards out of the barracks, and across the back lawn
towards the castle. “Sir, is all of this really necessary?” Hava
asked, knowing he would be punished for his insolence.

“
Yes, of course it
is, Hava,” Goga said, rolling his eyes and sniffling. “We cannot
let these children get away from us that easily. I admit I have
thought that these children were next to nothing, when I wondered
why we were supposed to have been watching out for them in the
first place, but Lord Fobata and I, it seems, have vastly
underestimated them.” He said as he threw open the back doors into
the castle.

“
Despite being
trapped here, they managed to find a way out, even if they had some
help here from a servant girl, and one of them had the Black
Sword.” Goga said, as servants and guards alike scattered before
him. He stopped to sneeze. “The Black Sword, Hava, do you know what
that means?” He asked, turning to his secretary.

“
Knights of Arria?”
Hava asked
uncertainly, for
that was what the the Black Sword, and other Swords of Arria, were
associated with.

“
That’s right,
Knights of Arria,” Goga muttered, continuing on as he started to
descend the staircase into the dungeon. “We cannot let them get
away from us. They will bring down destruction on everything that
we have worked so hard for.” He huffed.

“
But how can you be
so sure that they are
…
the Knights of Arria died years
ago!” Hava cried. “Centuries! Millenia!”

“
They are the Knights
of Arria, or the closest thing we will get to them in our
lifetimes.” Goga said, turning on Hava at the bottom of the
staircase. “The Knights of Arria might have died, but they left a
legacy behind them that has lasted all of this time and will be
picked up by others, you can almost guarantee that. There may even
be some truth to the rumor of a Knight of Arria in Coe Kiki
already, if you can believe that.” Goga muttered, turning away.
“Generations have been raised on the stories! Millenia! Of course
someone is going to pick up the bloody Black Sword when it falls
into their hands,” Goga said, as he entered the dungeon with Hava
right behind, “Who could resist that?” He finished.

The guard on duty turned to Goga, as
several women started cursing Goga loudly from within the cells
where they were all jammed in together. Some women pleaded to be
let out, but many were just remained silent and sullen. “Sir,” The
guard said, raising his voice to be heard over the clamor, “The
ladies are waiting to be inspected.”

“
Ladies,” Goga
muttered, going from cell to cell and, at a safe distance to avoid
the hands trying to reach out and strangle him, peered in to see if
any of them might have been the one to attack him. “No. No. Maybe.
Too old. Not enough hair. Too young.” Goga said, wiping his nose
with a handkerchief from his pocket. “She was shorter. Taller.
Fatter. Skinnier. Maybe a bit older. Possible. Turn your head to
the left. No.” Goga said.

Goga continued, narrowing down his
suspects as Hava wrote down their names and descriptions. “All
right, I think that’s enough.” Goga said, nodding to the guard
before he asked Hava to tear off the piece of paper from his ledger
and hand it over to the guard. “Here, round up these ladies from
their cells,” Goga told the guard. “And prepare them for an
investigation. I will be with them shortly. Hava, come with me.”
Goga said as he left the dungeon behind.

Hava panted, going up the staircase,
“Where are we going now?”

“
To Lord Fobata. I am
sure he wants to talk to me by now,” Goga said, climbing. “And I
have a few words I want to say to him. Plus we must have a
conversation with Marlo and
…
what was the name of the servant
Marlo had spying on the group?”

“
Janus?” Hava asked,
shocked as he stopped just befoe the top of the stairs.

“
Precisely.” Goga
growled, emerging into the back corridor just as the sun rose above
the eastern corner of the rear curtain wall, visible through one of
the windows. “We must have a conversation with him.” He
said.

Habala had started
cooking breakfast for herself and her husband, as well as for a few
guests that had arrived last night to see the Oracle of Mila, and
her husband was out chopping wood in the stableyard for the
stove,
though he did not need
to. Habala was using her magical fire powers to light and heat the
stove. Habala had yet to confess to him the full extent of her fire
power, which she was still exploring after ‘rediscovering’ them. In
a sense, she had not completely forgotten her powers; she had just
tried to block them from her mind for all of these years.
The last time she had used her
powers, really used them to the full extent of her ability before
burning down her clock workshop…she did not want to think about
that horrible night when Dorvina, Geda’s and Smidge’s sister, had
died.

Brigga rushed into the stableyard from
the street. “Geda! Habala!” The woman called, as Habala poked her
head out from the kitchen, and her husband stopped chopping.

“
What is it?” Geda
asked quietly, lowering the axe and wiping sweat off of his
brow.

“
The mayor’s back,
out running naked on the main street again,” Brigga remarked,
pointing towards the road. “Something has got to be done about it.”
She said, heading for the water pump to wash her hands.

Habala and Geda glanced at each other,
as they heard the mayor singing a bawdy song on the street in front
of their inn. “I’ll take a look,” Geda sighed, putting his axe away
before he headed in that direction.

“
Thank you.” Brigga
said, smiling as she pumped. “I’m so glad
.
I hope that you can talk
some sense into him, Geda. Not that I’m complaining, but that’s not
the sort of sight we want to see every time he gets the fancy.” She
added, rinsing her hands.

“
I quite agree
there.” Habala laughed. “Take care, Geda.” Habala said, wiping her
hands on her apron. “It’s the third time in a month that he’s done
this.”

“
I know. I think he’s
losing it.” Geda sighed. “Not that I blame him one bit. He’s got a
lot to deal with sometimes.”

“
Do you two think
he’ll get re-elected this year?” Brigga asked them, drying her
hands.

“
I don’t know. I
don’t think so.” Geda chuckled. “I can’t imagine so, not with his
behavior getting so bad, and so visible. I suppose...we’ll have a
new mayor this year.” He stopped, astonished by his own
words.

“
A new mayor, the
first in fifteen years.” Habala said, marveling to herself. “Can
you imagine? You know, Geda, maybe you should run for
mayor.”

“
Me? Run for mayor?
No way,” Geda said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do a thing like
that, not if
…
no. Don’t ask me to do that.”
Geda said, striding away towards the main road.
Habala and Brigga had asked too much of him in
recent days, especially with Smidge leaving.

“
But it’s a great
idea!” Brigga
cried
, turning towards
him
, yet he had already
gone
. “Habala
?
” She
said, turning
towards
her friend.

Her friend. It had
been so long since
she and
Habala
had been friends that it still felt
strange to think of them in that term
.
B
ut ever since the other night,
when Smidge had left The Smiling Stallion inn
,
and
she
had
shared
her secret
with
Habala
, in spite of Habala’s reluctance to believe
Smidge could be a Follower of Doomba
, they
had gotten close
again.
N
ow it seemed that they were working
together
as friends, although
there
was no
mention
of Smidge
in their conversations.
H
e seemed to be
personally
avoiding
them
, and Habala wanted to
avoid the topic of Smidge altogether, especially when it came to
him possibly being a Follower of Doomba. Brigga followed Habala’s
taciturn example in this case, as it was the only sore point they
had at this point, but one of these days she knew that she would
have to pursue the topic again, if only to prove that Smidge was
one.

Habala sighed,
shaking her head. “There’s no point trying to talk him into it,
Brigga, he won’t listen to you.” Perhaps she should not have
suggested that
Geda should
run for mayor
,
Habala thought,
when Geda was
not in the mood to try anything bold or new, in a sort of depressed
state disguised as business as usual. But she thought that Geda
could make a good mayor, possibly the best mayoral candidate that
they had in this town. It was difficult for things to get back to
normal between her and Geda, with the boys
and Smidge
gone, but perhaps
a change, something to live for besides the inn, something to give
them hope, might stir their hearts again. She shouldn’t have burned
down the old clock workshop awhile ago, that had just made things
worse between them.

“
You could probably
talk him into it.” Brigga remarked.

“
I know I could,
but
I’m not sure
…
” Habala sighed. “Perhaps we
shouldn’t discuss this. Come on inside here, and help me finish
breakfast,” Habala said, moving away from the kitchen door. Would
he even listen to her? Would he be willing to believe her? Perhaps
the boys and the inn were all they had keeping them together for
all of these years, and now that the boys were
gone
…
the inn was not enough, it would never be enough to protect
them. They were falling apart.

Habala wiped her eyes
as Brigga entered the kitchen. Brigga had been of great help to
them these past couple of days, taking care of some of the boys’
chores along with Smidge, and then after Smidge
left
;
things were almost back to normal when it came to operating
and managing the inn
.
A
lmost.

Besides the Oracle of Mila worshippers,
there was also Mirari the healer staying here, as she usually did
during the Plig and Suma seasons, but she said that she had come
earlier this year to get a start on taking care of some of her
patients. Habala had not quite understood that, but she supposed
that it was a good thing when Mirari was such a good healer, and
sometimes there were accidents when people started plowing up the
fields, or the river started to flood with the thaw in the Reda
season. She would not start to question everything else in her
life, or else things would start to fall apart even more before she
knew what was happening.

Habala shook her head and went back to
cooking breakfast alongside Brigga, waiting for her husband to come
back to help serve. He would come back.

Lapo the merchant was walking down the
main road with his wife Mawen after having picked up some breakfast
food from the general store, when the mayor raced by them naked.
“Third time in a month,” Mawen remarked, shaking her head with
disappointment. “He doesn’t even look that good. Do you think
people are going to stand for much more of this?” She asked her
husband slyly.