The Master's Chair (The Chronicles of Terah) (62 page)

While he was brushing down his horse, he realized that he might still be able to turn a profit off the adventure, so he decided to pack up that afternoon and head out. If he was the first person to reach an officer in Brendolanth and report the death of the minstrels, Rolan might reward him for the news.

When he reached Billows late Saturday afternoon, he went straight to the town director’s inn and told him that he had spotted the minstrels while he was in Nandelia. “They didn’t look like minstrels anymore though. They looked more like farmers than anything else. Even their wagon had been disguised, but they weren’t smart enough to fool me, no, sir. You’ve got to get up pretty early in the morning to pull the wool over my eyes.”

“Where are they now?” the director asked.

“I knew you’d want to know where they were headed, so I got a couple of guys to help me follow them. After all, it was just me, and they’re all armed to the teeth.”

“And they’re in …” the director prompted.

“We didn’t catch up with them the first night. It took us a while to get things together and get out of town, and we didn’t want to get ahead of them, so we pulled up when it got dark and made camp. The next afternoon, we found where they pulled their wagons off the road and headed into the woods. Now the woods right there weren’t all that big, so we set up three camps. Between us and the river, we had them trapped, so we settled down for the night, planning to attack at first light.”

The director nodded. “Reasonable. So, did you turn them over to the district captain down there or did you bring them back here?”

“Well, the weirdest thing happened. Right as we were breaking camp at daybreak, a big storm blew up and the next thing we knew, this huge tornado dropped down out of the sky headed straight for us. We had to get out of there fast. Then, after the storm had passed, we rode into the woods to see what had happened to them. We found their campsite. Looked like they took a direct hit. The whole area was leveled, trees down, everything just plain gone. We did find a few things, some clothes, kitchen stuff, things like that, but all the people, horses, and wagons had been swept away. That big ol’ tornado just scooped them up and swallowed them.”

“Are you telling me that the minstrels are dead?” the director asked.

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m telling you. Thought you might want to let Rolan know so he can call off the hunt.”

The director’s face paled a little, but he nodded and said, “Yes, I’ll do that, and I’ll see that you get all the credit you deserve for your efforts.”

“Thank you, sir. Well, I guess I’d best be getting on home now,” the bandit said.

When the bandit got home, he told his wife about the minstrels, the chase, the tornado, and his meeting with the director. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I got some kind of reward from Rolan when he hears about this,” he bragged to his wife.

Instead of the praise he was expecting, she glared at him and yelled, “I don’t believe this! How could you be so stupid?”

“What?” he asked dumbfounded.

“Rolan’s going to blame you!”

“For what?!” he asked with a deep frown.

“If you hadn’t decided to wait around until daylight to attack, you’d have had them. Soldiers would be escorting them to Trendon right now, but no, you waited because you didn’t want to risk attacking at night, and now they’re dead. He’ll never get to question them and he’s going to blame you!” The whole time she was ranting she was pulling things out of the kitchen cabinets. “Bring the wagon around to the back door. Hurry!”

“Why?” he asked as he slowly got up from his chair.

“We’re leaving.”

“Leaving? What are you talking about?”

“Leaving here. At least the children and I are. You can do whatever you want, but I want to be out of here before Rolan decides to take it out on us that you lost those minstrels. You mark my words. When he hears about this, he’s going to send someone out here to get us, and I plan to be long gone before then, long gone, hopefully out of Brendolanth. Now move!”

Chapter 47

More Surprises

Before daybreak Saturday morning, Kevin floated the wagons and horses back across the Pooley River. According to their map, there was a small road that headed east when the main road followed the river as it turned north. By taking the small road, they could cut across the plains, and reach the Sandover River by Wednesday, saving themselves a couple of days.

Around mid-afternoon they came to the eastbound road and left the river for the first time in nearly two weeks. After a couple of miles, the road became little more than a narrow track through the prairie. There was no sign of any farmhouses or towns for as far as they could see, and since the only thing around them was prairie grass, they could see for quite a distance. By the time they set up camp Sunday evening, they were beginning to feel like they were the only people on the whole planet. They hadn’t seen another living soul for well over twenty-four hours. It was getting a little spooky.

Kevin and Chris had the third watch Sunday night, and shortly after they got up at 3:00, they heard Glendymere’s voice in their heads.
“You’ve made good time. Where do you want your supplies? Next to the fire or closer to the wagons?”

“Close to the wagons. We won’t sort them until after daybreak,” Kevin said.

Glendymere lowered the supplies to the ground slowly, more slowly than the contents of the bundles warranted.
“Any particular reason you decided to cut through Davenglen? Most humans tend to avoid the gnomes.”

“Gnomes?” Chris asked. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, short little people, maybe come up to your knees. The ones who live in this area. Didn’t you know you were traveling through their lands?”

“No, we had no idea. Are they dangerous?” Kevin asked as he nervously looked around to see if he could see anyone in the tall grasses surrounding their campsite.

Glendymere snorted a laugh and said,
“Only to your supplies. Gnomes are basically thieves, although they don’t mean any harm. They take whatever appeals to them, but usually just small things, pretty things. Are any of you missing anything?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I couldn’t find the belt that Ashni made for me when I got dressed this morning, and I know I had it on yesterday. And I heard Joan say something about losing her headband and a big potholder. Is that the type of stuff they would take?” Kevin asked.

“Sounds just like them. Cute little things actually. I didn’t land because I was afraid I’d hurt one of them. You can’t see them unless they want to be seen.”

“Are there any around us?” Chris asked.

“Count on it. They live underground and travel from one section of Davenglen to another through tunnels. They could come into your camp and steal half of what you’ve got without you ever knowing that they’re there. They’re good at that.”

“They must be if they took my belt. It was in our tent, and we had someone on watch all night long,” Kevin said, still looking around to see if he could spot a gnome.

“Well, if I were you, I’d get through Davenglen as quickly as possible,”
Glendymere said with a laugh.

“How far does Davenglen go? When will we be out?” Chris asked.

“You’ll be out by the time you reach the Sandover River. People who live around here could show you exactly where Davenglen ends. A small stream marks the boundary, but I doubt you’ll notice it, so assume you’re still in Davenglen until you cross the river,”
Glendymere answered.
“Now, tell me about your trip. Anything exciting happen?”

While Kevin told Glendymere about the bandit from Billows, Chris walked around the campsite, looking for any sign that anything had been disturbed. He climbed up in the back of each of the wagons, checking every place where a gnome might hide. When he had satisfied himself that there were no gnomes in the wagons, he circled around the tarps, looking for anything unusual. He finished his inspection about the same time that Kevin finished telling Glendymere about their trip.

“Don’t give up, Chris. I guarantee you that you’re being watched and studied as we speak, and I would be willing to bet that before daybreak, something will be lifted from your campsite, if it hasn’t already. It’s just a game to them so don’t do anything rash, like hurt one of the little fellows. They can get mean if they feel threatened.”

“I thought you said we weren’t in any danger from them,” Kevin said.

“You aren’t, as long as you don’t hurt one of them. Well, I’d better head back. See you in a couple of weeks.”

The next morning, Kevin and Chris told the others about the gnomes while they were eating breakfast. Theresa and Joan made a quick inventory of the kitchen supplies and herbs, Karl and Steve checked the furniture and tack for the horses, and Darrell checked the spare weapons. They found a few things missing, but the missing items were all small and relatively unimportant as far as their survival was concerned.

“The best thing we can do at this point is load up and try to get to the Sandover River as quickly as possible,” Karl said after they finished the search.

“I wonder if there was something on the map that we missed,” Steve said. He took out the map, spread it out on the ground, and looked at it carefully. There was no area called Davenglen, but there was a black dot where the eastbound road began. “I wonder if this dot here means anything. See? Here’s another dot near the Sandover River, about where our road should end. I wish I knew what the dots mean. They could mean gnomes, proceed at your own risk, danger ahead, or stay out of here at all costs. Next time it could be a lot worse,” Steve said as he pointed out the little marks.

“I saw those marks, but I thought they were specks of dirt, so I didn’t worry about them,” Karl said. “Why didn’t Kalen warn us about things like that?”

“Probably because it never crossed his mind that we wouldn’t know,” Steve said with a sigh. Then he folded the map up and put it back in his cloak pocket.

“You’re probably right,” Joan said. “This isn’t one of those things that he neglected to mention because he thought it would make us revolt, like slavery or dragons. This is relatively minor, all things considered.”

“Well, if nothing else, it’s a good reminder that we’re in a strange place, surrounded by strange things,” Chris said.

“It’s easy to forget how different this world is,” Joan commented.

 “We just spent eight months living with giants and a dragon. I wouldn’t call that exactly normal,” Karl said with a snort of laughter as he put his arm around his wife and hugged her. “But you’re right, Chris. We really don’t know what else might be out there. We need to be careful.” Then he mounted his horse and said, “Let’s get moving.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Monday and Tuesday nights the gnomes grabbed a few more incidentals, but none of the Tellurians caught a glimpse of them, although they were all even more vigilant than usual. It was a relief to reach the Sandover River Wednesday morning.

They crossed the river on a ferry, and traveled south along the river until late afternoon. Although they were still in grasslands, there were a few patches of woods scattered along the riverbanks, and they found an oval-shaped clearing surrounded by pine trees that looked like it had frequently been used as a campsite. There was enough room to set up a small corral for the horses in the north end of the oval, park the wagons around the fire pit in the south end, and set up their sleeping tarps in the middle. They finally managed to spend two nights in one campsite, giving the horses a much needed break.

The weather had been fairly good for the middle of the winter. They had run into a few snow showers, but the only significant snow was the one that Kevin had stirred up to cover their tracks. But a week after they crossed the Sandover River, the weather took a turn for the worse. That Wednesday a blast of frigid air out of the north plummeted temperatures. The harsh northwest wind buffeted them all day and shook the walls of the inn and stable they stayed in that night.

Thursday morning a mass of humid air from the south overrode the cold, giving them dark overcast skies, and around lunchtime the snow started to fall. By mid-afternoon it was so heavy that the wagons were beginning to bog down in the drifts. They needed to find shelter and wait out the storm, but the best the prairie had to offer was a small grove of leafless hardwood trees. They stopped on the edge of the grove to figure out what they were going to do.

“Kevin, can’t you do anything about this storm?” Theresa asked.

“Not really. The system’s too big. The best I could do is warm it up a little right around us, but a cold rain might be worse than the snow.”

“Then our primary concern has to be shelter, and not just for us. I don’t know how much more of this weather the horses can stand,” Karl said. “I wish we could find some kind of cave, anything to get us out of this wind!” 

“People in the prairies used to build their homes below ground.” Steve said. “It kept them warm in the winter and cool in the summer.”

“You could dig out a hole, couldn’t you?” Chris asked Kevin.

“We could give it a try. I don’t think I want to try digging a big hole right here under the trees though. Let me try it a little farther out,” Kevin said as he wandered away from the others.

After a few minutes, he found an area that he thought might be pretty good. There was already a small dip in the ground, so it gave him a starting point. He made his outstretched hand as large as the shovel on a bulldozer. Then he decided that it was too small for the job and made it even bigger. He dug down into the ground, lifted out the dirt and piled it off to the side. After he had a hole about twelve feet deep, fifty feet long and six feet wide, he scooped dirt out along the side, leaving a three-foot thick overhang at the top. Every ten feet or so, he stopped, leaving a column of dirt to support the roof. When he was done, he’d made four separate rooms about 10 feet long, 10 feet wide, and nine feet high. Then he went back and packed the dirt in the roof, checking for weak spots. Next, he firmed up the sides of the hole by packing the dirt around the walls. Then he used the dirt he’d scooped out of the hole to build a windbreak around the sides. It reminded him of playing in a sandbox when he was a child.

When he had the hole finished he stood back and looked at it. There was no way to get down into it, so he scooped out a ramp at one end of the hole. While he had been working, the others had gathered around to watch.

“That should do the trick,” Karl said. “Good work, Kevin”

“Having a sorcerer along definitely helps,” Darrell said with a nod. “Now, let’s get the horses out of this wind.”

Karl, Steve and Darrell unhitched the horses and led them down the ramp and into three of the rooms. While Karl set out fresh hay and filled some feed buckets with oats, Steve and Darrell tied heavy blankets around the horses, and Kevin filled some buckets with snow, melted it down to water, and set them around the sides of the makeshift barn. Meanwhile, Chris unpacked the bedrolls and tarps while Joan and Theresa grabbed some food and kitchen supplies.

By the time the horses were settled, the tarps were set up in the fourth room, and dinner was ready. Kevin heated the air in the hole to a more tolerable temperature and everyone sat down on the ground to eat.

“These sandwiches are good, but I sure would love a cup of coffee,” Steve said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of that,” Kevin said as he stood up and gathered a few rocks from the floor of the hole. “Joan if you would get the pot ready, I’ll have a stove for you in just a minute.”

Joan had the coffee pot ready by the time Kevin had the stones stacked into a small cube. Then Kevin heated the rocks and soon coffee was bubbling away inside the pot.

The next morning, they woke up to sunshine. The wind had died down during the night and the temperature was a little warmer. They loaded the wagons, hitched the horses, and then Kevin swept the dirt back into the hole and packed it down. The dip in the ground was more pronounced than it had been before, and there was a bare spot in the prairie, but those were the only signs of their shelter.

They continued following the Sandover River, and around the middle of the morning on the last Saturday in February they pulled into Glenarbour. Their road followed the Sandover River as it wound its way through the center of Glenarbour to the eastern edge of town, where the Sandover flowed into the Kivee River. All along the Sandover, ferries carried people, horses, and carriages from one side of town to the other.

At the bend where their road turned south to follow the Kivee River, there was a large livery stable that rented horses, wagons, and carriages, as well as boarded horses and wagons for the many travelers who passed through the town. As they headed south, they saw four inns, several dry goods stores, a cobbler’s shop, a tailor’s shop, a couple of farmers markets, five or six restaurants, and half a dozen taverns. All of the taverns advertised evening entertainment as well as cheap rooms. The sidewalks were crowded with humans, elves, dwarves, and a lot of other people who didn’t seem to fall into any of the three racial categories that the Tellurians had met so far.

Houses lined all of the side streets. Streets that led off to the west seemed to end shortly after the last house, but the streets that led to the east dead-ended on an alley that ran beside the Kivee River. The alley looked like it was mainly for the oxen that pulled barges up and down the river.

Every once in a while the Tellurians caught a glimpse of the docks. Some of them were fairly small with fishing boats tied up to them while others were large enough for loading and unloading barges, but no matter how large or small the dock, water troughs and bales of hay were stacked on shore near the edge of the dock for the oxen.