the Leathermines

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Night was again upon the Kingdom of the Midlands.  Markle put out the black banner at the front of the Inn to show that they were not accepting any more guests, and instructed the Salam-Dir wardsman who was standing guard how to use the defenses built into the walls.  Marie borrowed servants from several of the private houses in the crossroads to continuously cook and clean and launder as needed, pulling the thick curtains down over the windows when it became brighter inside than out.

The night had come, calm and sleep were over most of the people in the Inn.  Several hours passed and the sounds of travelers outside on the road died to nothing but night birds and cats searching for the same unwary mice.  Markle could not keep his eyes open any longer and tapped on the shoulder of one of the older wardsmen.  They exchanged places near the front of the Inn’s common room and Markle fell asleep leaning against the wall, not in his bed.  Several of the Salam-Dir servants were in the bed he and Marie shared most nights.  There were people stacked inside and out, the wardsmen keeping watch, something he only remembered from when he was a very young lad.  As Markle fell into dreams of the last war upon the land, several were kept awake at the prospect of the one now on them.

The sleeping drought that Laun had been given had worn off and she was lying among the sleeping forms of many of the dancers of the household.  They had not been obvious about it, but they had become her maids in waiting, her small court.  Disa led them, Orgia acting as Laun’s hands to direct the remaining household.  There was comfort in the breathing and snores around Laun.  It was more comforting that Disa had asked Marie to continue with her new Lady and that Marie had not just accepted that request but had quipped that she had expected no less.

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Geralk was leading his mule through the different groups that were traveling away from the late Festival.  He had been able to get to the Merchant’s tent right before the battle had spread to that area of Lord Falmir’s lands.  The merchants that had not left to see the closing ceremonies were packing up, including the female assistant that Pillar had left at his booth.  Geralk spread the word briefly of what had just happened and the speed the merchants were packing at tripled.  Pillar’s assistant looked at the stuff in the booth and just left.  The last Geralk saw of her was when she paused at the opening to the outside before disappearing into the battle noise.

So, because he was a good person at heart, Geralk had burdened his mule with both his stuff and Pillar’s potions and salves.  But, Geralk was not above selling anything that was strapped to the beast as they traveled from caravan to caravan.  Several of the salves that were labeled were sold to various households, and Geralk was able to glean information as well as a few coins.

The merchant was coming to the last cart in a fairly large caravan when he recognized the shaman striding alongside one of the wagons.  There was a momentary flash of guilt before Geralk called out, “Hoy!  Pillar!”

The shaman turned at the call and stopped walking.  Wagons, servants and horses passed by him until he started his pace with Geralk at his side.  “How be you, Geralk?”

The merchant motioned with his head to the mule.  “Thought you may want some of your stuff.”  A twinkle was in his voice and eye as he said, “You have already paid cartage.”

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Falmir had not expected there to be any resistance when he killed his own father.  He fought the man, more difficult than he thought the old man would be.  The old men with him also were in fighting mettle more than the life they seemed to lead would show.  The peasants and entertainers that the fight pressed into also made it difficult.  Falmir did not mind bloodshed.  He just wanted a particular blood on his knife and the people kept getting too close or directly in the way.

Then the King’s men uncloaked and the odds were much more even.  The hired Greyworlders came to Falmir’s side, but they were all minor thieves and briggands, not the fighting men he needed.  When his own Nephew came out of the crowd and sided with King Dreng, Falmir knew that it could not happen right then.  The coup was not over, but Falmir was not going to be able to crown himself that day.

The King and his men kept pushing through the crowd and Falmir stopped.  He called back his men and breathed heavily as the crowd made space around them.  “Back to the Mains.  He cannot do much now.  And kill any in the King’s green.”

Falmir led the way to his ancestral home, now tainted with his families own blood.   There were only a few groups that resisted them as they went through.  Falmir was certain that there were more of the King’s men ahead, but when they got to where he had seen the Bright, the tabards were on the dirt.  Like other prey he had hunted, they had gone to ground.

Chapter 10 The people of Salam-Dir journey back to the land

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There was a scratching sound.  It took a few minutes for Laun to come out of sleep enough to recognize the sound that the servants and slaves of her own home used to announce their presence to their masters.  The door was still closed and locked to the outside.

Laun pulled the blanket around her and with achingly slow steps went to the door.  “Who is it?”

“Lady Laun, it is Marie.  May I come in?”

The lock was undone by Laun’s bandaged fingers and she stepped back.  The Innkeeper’s wife came in with a tray of food.  The house maid was behind her with a pitcher of water and clean linens for the room.  The door was closed and locked behind housemaid Disa and the two women busied themselves around Laun.

Laun still wore the arming harness under the blanket and nothing else.  Marie gently took the blanket from the Lady’s shoulders and only narrowed her eyes to show any emotion.  Within minutes, Laun was cloth-washed, her hair was brushed out and braided again and the clean skirt she had was being fastened at her waist, covering the warriors arming harness from there down.  Marie went to put the tunic she had lent Laun over the Lady’s arms when Laun shook her head. »Read More

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The Inn at the crossroads they finally stopped at was only one of several larger buildings that were at the obvious trading and resting point in the road.  Geralk tied his mule to a post in front of the Inn and opened the door for Laun.  She hesitantly went into the darkened room before the merchant, but found that the white painted walls and the fattened Innkeeper and his wife were instantly amicable to her when they saw Geralk.

“You are going to the Festival on Lord Falmir’s land?”  The Innkeeper swiped at a permanent stain on the pine table before he set tankards of ale down before the two travelers.

The merchant pressed a piece of metal into the Innkeeper’s hand without making a show of it and said, “I shall be heading that way myself, but my Lady here will be parting my company tonight to follow another road.”

“I see.”  The knowledgeable thumb ran across the face of the unseen coin as it was put into a pocket on the Innkeeper’s tunic, the smile widening slightly.  “Shall I bring a joint of meat and some pies for you and the Lady?”

“That, and have Marie come to my Lady Laun to help her wash some of the road from her.” »Read More