Post 19

Jared heard the rider approach before he saw him. He outwardly ignored him, but in reality he was watching very, very closely as the leggy bay gelding came up from behind them. Another indicator of Arius’ complete and utter exhaustion- he didn’t stir, not even when the rider reined in beside them.

The rider was a hard-faced older man, probably of an age with Eithna’s father, with short-cropped black hair. He glanced at the lead line tied to Jared’s cantle, following it back to Smoke’s bridle, then took in Smoke’s exhausted rider. A wry little smile tugged at chiseled lips as the man turned cool dark blue eyes on Jared. “Lord Holt, I presume?”

Jared cast a careful glance back at Arius and then nodded warily, loosening his sword. Those dark eyes didn’t miss the slight movement, but he did lower his voice. “I was sent by… a friend, to see if I could offer any assistance.”

Jared met those frosty eyes with an equally icy stare. “Somehow I don’t expect we have any mutual friends, which leads me to wonder what friend might have sent you, and what that friend’s personal interests are.”

“You may call me Bard’an. My friend is interested in being your friend as well.” A quick flicker back to Arius, almost too quick to notice, but Jared was nothing if not observant.

“Then perhaps your friend should have approached us his or herself.” Jared’s hand stayed on his thigh, as much as it itched to reach for the hilt of his sword.

“Hm. Unfortunately, with the current political climate, that was… impossible.”

Jared just stared suspiciously, waiting. The older man met his gaze unblinking for several heartbeats, and then he chuckled and looked away. Another brief glance at Arius. Was that concern behind that cool reserve, or intent?

“I can see that your reputation speaks true, Lord Holt. Will your young charge there continue to be led on your line? Do you speak for him?”

“I speak for only myself, Master Bard’an.” His fingers twitched involuntarily, no more- but the sharp dark eyes caught it and then flew to Jared’s sword hilt only inches away.

The stranger sighed deeply. “All right, I can see that you won’t trust for just any reason. I have some… proof from my friend that might shed a few answers on those questions that I can sense burning your tongue.” He reached into his coat, and Jared tensed, setting his hand lightly on his hilt. The man clicked his tongue in admonishment. “That is not necessary.” He pulled a little cloth-wrapped bundle from his coat, and tossed it to Jared.

With an angry hiss Jared snatched it out of the air, twisting back briefly to be sure Arius slept on. “That was foolhardy.” Bard’an just shrugged and turned his gaze to the little bundle in Jared’s hand. With eyes narrowed suspiciously, Jared flipped his wrist to throw the scrap of fabric off. What he saw in his hand had his eyes widening in surprise, and he met Bard’an’s amused smile with a look of shock. Bard’an nodded, and Jared stuffed the bundle into his own coat, glancing one more time at Arius.

Bard’an started to speak, and Jared slashed a hand through the air, a little angry. “Later, when we may include him.”

Bard’an nodded, a considering glint in his dark blue eyes. They rode on in silence until it began to get dark, and then Jared reined his mount through a sleepy little village and into the little yard of the only inn. He quietly, cautiously reached out to unclip the lead line before swinging out of his saddle. Bard’an dismounted only a moment later.

Smoke danced a little, free of the lead line, and all at once Arius was awake, jerking upright and gasping for air. He shuddered, gripping the thick gray mane in white-knuckled fingers, and then he was slowly, slowly sliding from the saddle, a limp bundle of bones. Jared cursed and moved to grab him, but Bard’an was there before him, catching Arius and then carefully easing him to steadier footing. The younger man was mumbling, something Jared couldn’t make out, and Jared ducked beneath his other arm as Bard’an was shoving his shoulder under Arius. The two men half-carried him into the common room and amid only a little confusion were shown to a room where they carefully, so carefully, lowered him down onto a bed with a worn quilt. Arius was still mumbling, but was very still, and Jared had felt the heat pouring off him when they had carried him in. With another sharp curse, Jared tugged Arius’ boots off and gave Bard’an a grateful look when the older man moved to help him get Arius out of his coat. Finally, he reached to unbuckle the sword belt, and then jumped a little when Arius grabbed his hands in a steely grip. “No- must not- the Hounds-.”

Jared shared a blank look with Bard’an, who shrugged. “He’s feverish, I think.” Jared only nodded and cautiously pulled Arius’ hands away from the buckle. He unfastened it and slid the leather out from beneath other man’s hips, wrapping the belt about the scabbard and setting it near at hand. Then he grabbed one of the two stools in the room and dragged it next to the bed, settling in for the evening. Bard’an ducked from the room without a word, leaving them alone.

Veyga stared around himself in awe. This dream was different, although it had the same flavor as the others. Gone were the gray floor and ceiling- he stood now in a shining round cathedral with crystal walls, a high domed ceiling towering far above. Dim radiance filtered through the crystal, sunlight streaking through in places with dancing motes sparkling through the beams. Everything around him was created from white crystal; the table in the center of the room with a chair pulled up to each of the four sides, the tray and pitcher and four goblets set precisely in the center of the table, the benches around the outside of the room, and even the single doorway straight ahead of him. There was a feeling of peace here, a sensation of cool healing, and he drank it in, arms spread. He hadn’t felt this good in moonturns, if not longer. He would stand here forever if he was able.

A small noise finally stirred his attention, and he opened his eye to meet a shocked stare across the table. It was a tall woman, stately and with gray in her long pale hair, dressed in a long white gown and wrapped in a full white cloak. Her startled gaze, eyes so pale a blue as to nearly seem colorless, didn’t move from his even as she glided forward and took the chair to his left. She settled into it gracefully, spreading her cloak about her and folding her ankles neatly to expose white slippers. Another movement, and this time it was a man who entered the room, average of height and weight, hair and eyes the darkest brown, and garbed all in the darkest of greens- so dark as to nearly seem black. The man also captured Veyga’s stare with an anxious look, and it wasn’t until he was seated comfortably in the chair to Veyga’s right that Veyga realized there was third person entering the room. This was another woman, petite and dainty where the first woman was tall and lean, and she had the brightest red hair Veyga had ever seen, with keen eyes of an amazing shade somewhere between green and blue. Her gaze was so piercing that it took him a minute to realize that she was clad in breeches, a shirt and a coat, much as the man to his right was wearing, but all in darkest shades of red. She came around the table and sat with her back to Veyga, and his gaze snapped up to take in the fourth person to enter. Another man, elderly beyond years, wizened and bent, hair nearly white but with brown eyes still sharp. He wore a long, deep-blue robe, and walked with an elaborately-carved staff as he approached the table. He stood behind the seat directly across from Veyga, but he did not sit. Instead, carrying Veyga’s gaze with his own, he motioned for Veyga to take the chair.

He stood rooted where he was, mouth watering, forcing back the horrible sensation he was experiencing. This beautiful place, these beautiful people, it couldn’t be… One look into the old man’s eyes, though, and he knew. He dropped to one knee and placed his fisted left hand on the floor before him, head bowed as low as he could manage. “You honor and humble me.”

“Well he isn’t a complete fool at least.” It was one of the women that spoke, though he wasn’t sure which one. The room amplified his voice and hers making it difficult to tell which direction the voices came from.

“Endara, please.” The other woman, there.

A shiver snaked across his spine. Endara, the Goddess of the Hunt. Surely that meant the other one, the one in white, was Sheryas, the Goddess of Healing. Which meant the younger man would be Kyarol, the God of War, and the older man must be Eavan, the God of Storms.

He was in the presence of the Gods and Goddesses, and his heart quailed. Most did not believe in them anymore, not at all. It was no longer heresy to blaspheme their names, and there were few priests and priestesses anymore. At least, that was how things stood in Anyon. For his entire life, there had been no sign of the Gods and Goddesses touching the world. He had not been more than a half-hearted believer himself, until a few moments ago.

“Rise child, and let us see your face.”

He stood slowly, raising his eyes but staring at nothing; he was so frightened to offend them that he could hardly do anything else.

“Hm, he is pretty at least.” Endara was the redhead.

“Endara, please!”

“Oh Sheryas, I’m not blind. I can see what stands before me.”

“Come, child, and sit.” Veyga’s gaze snapped to the wizened man in shock, but the old man just smiled gently and motioned to the chair again. Cautiously, feeling out every step, he swung wide of the table and nearly scrambled into the chair.

“Skittish as a colt, too.” That was Kyarol, watching him from beneath hooded eyed.

“Well come, child, to Skeyon. I am-.”

“Eavan…” He gasped when the word left his mouth unbidden, and the old man’s eyes crinkled kindly.

“Indeed. Apparently we are not completely forgotten. Yes, I am Eavan, the bringer of storms. Do you know who else shares your table?”

Veyga cast furtive glances to each of the other three, nearly whispering their names. Eavan smiled indulgently. “Correct. That lightens my heart, at least. Well done, child. And what is your name?”

He hesitated. Which name did they mean? Then he looked down at the table, brow furrowed. Which name? What did he mean, himself? Apparently sensing his discomfort, the old man laid a hand across the top of his head. Focused as he was on his own thoughts, he didn’t see the slight widening of the brown eyes or the sharp head shake for the other three. He didn’t see the strange light that seemed to fold around his body before flickering out.

“Two names to this child, then. They must become one. I see… far more than I wished, but I see.” The old man nearly hissed, and Arius jerked his head up to meet that razor-sharp gaze as the God stepped backwards several paces.

“Eavan, how can this be? How can a mortal child just appear here, in our domain? Are we less secure than we believe?”

Veyga shifted his eyes only briefly towards Endara as she spoke, then forced his gaze to focus back on Eavan when he wanted nothing more than to keep his eyes lowered. The old man considered for a few long moments before answering. “It is possible, Endara, that this youngling is not really here at all. Maybe it is just his dream that we are here. Maybe he should wake, so that he does not overhear that which he should not overhear…” Eavan leaned forward swiftly, too fast for Veyga to anticipate, and shoved him somehow, and before Veyga knew what was happening, he was sitting up in bed, stark naked, gasping like a fish out of water.

Jared leaped to his feet, sword half drawn, staring about frantically, looking for whatever danger there might be. Seeing none, he warily sheathed the blade, eyes fastened on Veyga. “Are you all right?”

Veyga took a deep shuddering breath and let it out slowly. He nodded with a smile of contentment. He was weak, certainly, but he hadn’t felt this well in moonturns. He stretched a little, reveling in the absence of all the little pains that had been plaguing him for so long. “Hungry.” It wasn’t until the word left his mouth that he realized that his stomach was growling loud enough for even Jared to hear.

Jared poked his head out the door and hollered for a meal, “and don’t be stingy!” and then turned to face Veyga with his arms crossed over his chest. Soon enough a young serving maid tapped on the door and offered a platter carrying two bowls heaped with potatoes and stewed beef and root vegetables, with hard crusty rolls and a large wedge of pale yellow cheese. Veyga started to leap from the bed, intent on the food, and then seemed to recall that he was nude. Grumbling, he pulled the quilt after him, wrapping it around himself with one hand while the other hand swiped the tray from Jared’s hands. He dropped down at the table and began to devour the meal; there was no other word for it. Both bowls disappeared into him, the rolls broken open and used to sop the broth from the bottom, then the cheese in great gulps.

Jared watched mildly until Veyga had cleared the platter. He even smiled a little as Veyga pressed some of the bread crumbs beneath his fingertip. “We’ve had a visitor, Arius.”

Veyga froze with his finger in his mouth. There was a wealth of warning in those words, but he met Jared’s gaze steadily. He casually wiped his hands clean on the quilt, wincing a little, and then nodded sharply. “Tell me.”

Jared checked the lock on the door before joining Veyga at the table. He pulled something from his pocket and gently, reverently laid it on the hard tabletop between them. Flipping back a corner of the dark cloth, he revealed his treasure. Veyga’s gray eye missed nothing. “What does it mean, Jared?”

“I can only speculate, Arius-.”

That sharp gaze pinned him where he stood. Apparently, Veyga was on the mend. “Tell me what you think. Don’t play games with me.”

“I believe that High Lord Gregor is showing you his support. Not outwardly, of course; that might be considered treason in and of itself. But certainly support. Of what sort, I don’t know.”

Veyga stared down at the lily-flower brooch before them, nestled in its little fold of cloth. The seal of Anyon, and he’d give up his sword if it wasn’t carved from pure gold. “Indeed…” He only breathed the word, but there was satisfaction in his tone. He fixed Jared again with that razor-sharp stare. “Is the messenger still here? You said we had a visitor.”

“Yes, he is still here, waiting. He… helped me bring you up to your room.”

Veyga flinched. Well that certainly wasn’t the best foot forward, was it? Nothing to do about it now except move on. He nodded quietly to himself and then turned that cutting stare back to Jared. “I’ll dress, and then have him here, away from prying eyes.”

“If you please, Arius, there is a private dining room here at this little inn. Surprising, I know, but I think that may be a better meeting place.”

“So be it. Leave me, let me dress.”

The nobleman stood and bowed to him before slipping from the room. Veyga didn’t seem to notice the sign of respect as he pushed to his feet and stalked about the room, looking for his saddlebags. He literally dumped the contents onto the bed, sorting through his clothing before setting aside his cleanest shirt and breeches- his two coats were filthy at this point. It would have been better if he’d brought a few more with him-. Veyga paused and then dropped down to sit on the edge of the bed, laughing softly. Rayna had certainly sunk her claws into him. Before his ‘lessons’ with her, he had never worn a coat in his life; shirt breeches and cloak were plenty good enough for him then and they would be now as well.

He dressed with a lighter heart, and if his face was a little less grim when he opened his door to find a serving girl bobbing curtsies to him and stammering “follow me good Master,” then so much the better. He was seated at the sturdy table in the private dining room- a room hardly bigger than the bedchamber he’d been assigned, and filled nearly to capacity with a heavy table and six equally brawny chairs- when Jared entered, another man on his heels.

The two men paused in tandem when they saw Veyga, but then each took a chair; Jared to Veyga’s right and the visitor to his left. They stared warily at each other over the table, and then turned in unison to watch Veyga.

Two serving girls entered the room, burdened with several trays of the same beef and potato stew, more of the hot crusty rolls, and an entire wheel of the pale yellow cheese, not to mention a large pitcher of ale and three tin mugs. The dishes were distributed in complete silence while the visitor sized Veyga up. Veyga met his stare with a steady one of his own.

The two girls backed from the room, dropping curtsies left and right, pulling the door shut behind him. Veyga smiled severely and motioned to the food. “Let’s eat.”

Jared was watching as warily as Bard’an. In spite of the huge portions Arius had just consumed, he laid in again with the appetite of a starving boy of four and six summers. This was the man he hadn’t noticed before- he had been considering Arius in plenty of roles; Eithna’s patient, Rayna’s student, as someone to be looked after, and even as simply a friend, but it hadn’t even passed through his head to look at him as what he really was; the infamous Veyga, a man with as many rumors about him as facts. If even a fourth of the rumors were true, then this was a terrifying man in sooth. He himself had heard the litany of charges against Veyga. He had even witnessed the Sa’san, so he knew the truth from the man’s own mouth. But Jared simply hadn’t set the credit for it all; he hadn’t even imagined the danger of this young man.

He saw it bleed through that outwardly calm exterior now. Even while eating, that gray eye missed nothing and his movements were carefully precvise. Jared had not seen the man practice with his blade, but Eithna had, and she had said he moved like a Master. All at once, Jared swallowed hard, a bead of sweat rolling down his back at even considering what might have happened had Arius thought just once that Jared did not wholeheartedly support him. Well and to the good that he really did.

Bard’an watched warily as well, if for different reasons. He couldn’t know that Arius seemed certain that he knew what his agenda might be; hidden or not. Jared had revealed nothing, knowing it was best to let Arius handle this on his own. Bard’an also did not have the private knowledge that Jared had- patient, student, companion- all he saw before him was a man who had endured the Sa’san and admitted to more than a hundred crimes, none of them minor. His first impression had been of a man wiped clean of any power, but rumors had filled the assembly room about the Sa’san, and it was certainly said that most of the men in history who had demanded the Sa’san didn’t survive the experience.

Reminded of their first encounter with Bard’an, Jared looked a little closer at Arius, probed a little harder, and could hardly countenance the change in the younger man. Only hours before Arius had been reeling with fever, completely unresponsive and mired in exhaustion. He had been unable to even pull himself out of his own saddle unaided. Now, while he still looked rather thin and tired, his strength was clearly back. Arius was calm and composed, if not frigidly cold inside, and not a quiver passed through him as he finished his meal- he’d consumed the larger portion of the rolls and cheese, although neither man commented on it. Jared was a little confused, and a lot frightened, at the inner strength the younger man now portrayed. If Bard’an had treacherous acts in mind, then he wouldn’t have a chance.

Veyga wiped his mouth with one of the napkins that had been delivered with the food and then set it aside neatly. He settled back in his chair, apparently relaxed, but neither man was fooled with the deception. “So. What does Anyon want with me now, messenger?”

Bard’an jumped a little, shooting an accusing look at Jared who shrugged a little. “You understand, Master Veyga, that I have a friend who wishes to aid in some small way, but that he cannot openly-.”

“Give over, messenger. I’m not a complete fool; I understand that Gregor cannot openly show his support.”

Bard’an gaped, and Jared hid a pleased smile. There was the dangerous man who had endured Sa’san. This would be entertaining.

“Close your mouth, stop acting the dupe, and let’s have the cards on the table, with no aces up the sleeve.” Veyga slid his own shirtsleeves up to make his point, folding strongly corded arms on the table before him. His gray stare pierced Bard’an, who squirmed a little, then seemed to realize what he was doing and glared back for a moment before dropping his eyes.

“All right, if that’s the way of it. The High Lord Gregor,” he had put emphasis on the title, but got no reaction from Veyga, “does wish to show you support, in private. He hoped you would understand the need for discretion?”

A slight shake of his head and a soft snort, and Veyga returned that razor-edged stare to Bard’an. “I think it can be accepted that I excel at keeping secrets.”

Jared couldn’t suppress a chuckle, and then cleared his throat when Bard’an glared at him.

“Yes, well. I can offer soldiers, Master Veyga, not Anyonian soldiers, of course, simple mercenaries, but well salaried, and gold for your journey. Supplies already paid for, horses, armor, weapons.”

The gray eye narrowed, and even though it was not aimed at him, even Jared wanted to squirm. “And what, exactly, does the High Lord demand in return? I am not so naïve as to believe that these… gifts… would come without strings attached.”

Bard’an swallowed hard, sweat popping out on his brow. Jared was enjoying this more and more; it wasn’t often that a man who thought quite well of himself was put so thoroughly in his place. Still, the man had at least some courage. “Master Veyga… sir… the High Lord has heard… just rumors, understand, that you are traveling to Polien. Uh, sir. And while Polien undoubtedly no longer stands, there is still the matter of the island, sir.”

Now he had the full hawks-stare attention of the man. Veyga leaned forward on his arms, almost quivering. Island? What island? “And how did Gregor… come by these rumors, exactly.” Jared would like to know the answer to that as well; he thought they had been very careful not to reveal more than they had to.

“I believe that a… certain Lady might have revealed, in private conference with the High Lord, understand, that it was quite pressing for a certain Master to be given pardon, or at least a temporary reprieve, in order to…”

“Rayna.” The one word was said with so many undercurrents that even Jared wasn’t sure how Veyga felt about it.

Bard’an was scrambling now, throwing aside the desire to be cautious. “It was an accident, Master Veyga, she did not mean to let it slip, but High Lord Gregor immediately understood what she meant. There have been prophecies, Master Veyga, and foretellings by no less than two priestesses, that a man would go seeking Polien. We know little more, but we do know that whatever the cost, that man must be assisted in whatever way possible.” Bard’an made the word assisted sound more like the word protected.

Veyga made no response; not a flicker of his eyelid. He just continued to stare, his gaze intense, and then he sat back abruptly. “Leave us.”

Bard’an scrambled from his chair so quickly that he nearly knocked it to the ground. He caught it, barely, and straightened it neatly before hurrying from the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Veyga stood and paced to the door, waiting a moment with one fingertip pressed to his lips for quiet, then he opened the door a crack, peered out, and then shut it again and firmly turned the lock.

Jared watched in surprise as the younger man nearly folded in on himself, turning to collapse against the door, his breath leaving in a rush. “By the seven hells, it has never been this hard before. Tell me, Jared, what you think of this- this proposal.” He almost spat the word.

“I think, Master Veyga, that the High Lord Gregor is a difficult enemy to have.”

He rolled his eyes and shambled back to his seat, stumbling only once before lowering himself carefully back into the chair. He rubbed the back of his neck. “None of that, now. Just Ari, to you, Jared. By the seven hells, you outrank me!”

Jared considered him carefully, then leaned back in his own chair and chuckled. “You are a man full of surprises, Arius.”

Veyga visibly relaxed, and although he rubbed his neck one more time, he dropped his hands back to the table. “So what do you think? Really think? None of this careful bull’s crap; just tell me plainly.”

“I think that it’s not a bad thing to accept the offer. I also think, though, that you should set some limits on the acceptance. Perhaps two score men, no more, as many supplies as can be easily carried with a handful of pack animals and all the gold we’re allowed. With even that small army at your back, you’ll be wanting to avoid the inns and camp rough so you’ll need your own tent at the least.”

Veyga studied him for a moment, and Jared wondered at the thoughts going through the man’s head. Then he smiled a little, and Jared released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The man could be intense without even trying. “Will you accompany me, Jared? To Polien?”

He nodded, but Veyga didn’t miss his slight hesitation. A sudden comprehension washed over Veyga’s face, and he blinked dumbly at Jared for a moment, then he grinned foolishly. “Eithna is pregnant?”

Jared paled. There was absolutely no way that Veyga could have known that. Only two people knew- him and his wife. Even her father did not know. “How-. I don’t-.”

Veyga shook his head. “It might be best if you don’t ask, actually. It’s-. Chalk it up to the dreams, I guess.” Of course; that glowing aura, the bright pulsing at her belly… He laughed suddenly. “Congratulations, Jared, of course. That is wonderful!” He leaned forward and scooped up one of Jared’s hands, shaking it vigorously. “Congratulations. You must be thrilled.”

“I am, of course, Arius, but as to traveling with you…”

“No, please, forget I asked. This takes priority, of course. You cannot be away from your wife when she is with child; your place is at her side, certainly.”

Jared smiled wryly, tugging to free his hand, which Veyga just now seemed to realize he still clutched. “Arius, there’s still some time, before the baby comes. I’m not in a hell-bent hurry to leave, as you seem to hinting I should be.”

Only a ridge of color along both cheekbones revealed his flush. “I apologize, Jared. I… don’t know much about those things. Kayli, of course, but… I did my best to avoid it as much as possible. Women’s business.” He was grumbling, and Jared just chuckled. The red brightened, then Veyga straightened and the color faded. “I apologize, Jared.”

“Think nothing of it. I will stay with you as long as I can, and that is all I can promise.”

“It’s enough, thank you. It will be nice to have someone with me that I can trust, for however long you can spare.” Veyga’s look turned considering. “Very nice indeed. I think that I also need to dig a little deeper into those prophesies and foretellings that messenger mentioned.”

“Bard’an, his name is Bard’an.” Veyga hadn’t even asked, and possibly that was another reason the previously self-confident messenger had folded like a house of cards before Veyga.

“Right. Bard’an. Maybe he has more information than we’ve been able to drudge up. And there is Eithna’s book, still, to be read.” He tipped his head, gaze turned inward, and Jared would have given two gold sovereigns to know his thoughts just then. Then Veyga shook himself and smiled wryly at Jared. “Bring him back here, and let’s finish this conversation.”

Jared complied cheerfully. When Bard’an returned with him, Veyga was once again in full possession of himself, gray eye steely and a grim half-smile turning up his sculpted lips. “Sit, Bard’an.” The man dropped into his chair hastily, looking a little green around the gills. “We have a few stipulations to your offer. Let’s talk.” It amused Veyga in a dark and sordid manner that this man, clearly carrying more battle experience beneath his belt, felt intimidated by him, Arius Veyga, once of Ragged Valley.

Bard’an scrambled to agree, and only argued a little at Veyga’s insistence that they would take only two score mercenaries into their party. But he did have a few more surprises. “High Lord Gregor anticipated your curiosity, my Lord Veyga, and he sent two more members of the party; one is one of the priestesses who brought forth the foretelling, and one a record keeper that can share a little more about the prophecies.”

“None of that ‘Lord’ nonsense, Bard’an- I hold no titles as well you know. I suspect you may have been present at that quite public declaration.” Bard’an fidgeted at that, but only a little. “’Master Veyga’ is sufficient for our purposes.” Veyga was obviously pleased that the High Lord had had the foresight to send along the priestess and the record keeper, and Bard’an preened beneath the slight praise he offered.

“How soon can your mercenaries catch up with us, Bard’an?”

“Er… As to that, Master Veyga…” He hemmed and hawed until Veyga pinned him with another of his icy stares, and then he cleared his throat noisily. “The camp is less than a mark away, waiting.”

Veyga burst out laughing, and after that Bard’an settled down and finally started to relax. The day grew late, and none of the men looked up from their planning when the inn keeper herself bustled in, girls on her heels bearing trays of food that she tucked around the men. Once the food and ale was settled, she chased the girls from the room herself and pulled the door closed behind. Veyga immediately ordered a halt to apply himself to the thick slab of venison on his trencher. Watching him eat, Jared suspected he was making up for lost time. The man was a never-ending pit.

Veyga cleared his trencher and glanced briefly at Jared’s before sighing and settling back in his chair. Jared would have laughed if the look on Veyga’s face hadn’t been so serious. While Bard’an was distracted, Jared swapped his half-full trencher for Veyga’s empty one, and the sheer joy he saw on the younger man’s face over such a simple act would stay with him forever.

Finally they concluded their negotiations, Veyga finishing with a promise to ride out to meet them first thing in the morning. Both men stood when Veyga rose from his chair. He gave them both a considering look, and then with a slight chuckle he left the room before them, offering his back to Bard’an for the first time. It was a step in the right direction, at least, and Jared was quite content with how Veyga had handled the situation. Jared reached out to catch Bard’an’s arm. “A word, Master Bard’an?”

The messenger nodded, and Jared watched Veyga descend the stairs at the end of the hall before speaking again. “I would like you to return a message to the High Lord for me. Tell him… You tell him that as far as I am concerned, he owes Master Veyga far more than an army.”

Bard’an nodded hesitantly, and Jared released his arm. Bard’an shot straight through the common room as he left, looking neither left nor right, so he didn’t see Veyga tucked away in the darkest corner, two more bowls of thick stew before him. One was already half empty. Jared dropped down beside him and leaned on his elbows, watching amusedly. Veyga paused for only a moment before digging back in. “I don’t know why I am so hungry, I can’t get full. I swear I’m starving, and my belly is going to turn itself inside out.”

“It’s probably just a reaction from the Sa’san. Who knows what sort of side effects something like that has on a man? It’s not as if we can just ask anyone.” Veyga shuddered at his comment, and then very carefully laid his spoon aside. His eye was very still, and Jared felt a colt chill cross over his skin. “What’s wrong, Arius?”

“Was it so awful, Jared?”

Jared couldn’t hide his surprise. “Was what awful? The Sa’san?” At the other man’s slow nod, Jared frowned. “You should be the one able to tell me.”

“I can’t remember, Jared. Not any of it. It’s just a blur. I remember the helmet being placed on my head, and then vaguely I remember falling afterwards. The feel of the carpet on my cheek, I think. Nothing more until I woke with you and Rayna at my side. I appreciate that, by the way.” He swallowed hard, squeezing his eye shut for a moment, then he opened his eye again and pinned Jared. “I can thank you until the day I die, and most likely never be thankful enough.”

“Nonsense, Arius. After all, if you weren’t the man you are, you would have swept my wife off her feet before I ever had a chance to meet her. I can never repay you for that.” That elicited a small smile, and then Veyga turned his attention back to his food. Both bowls were emptied soon enough, and it took only a little urging to get Veyga upstairs and into bed. Jared sent up a quick prayer that Veyga had not pressed for an answer.

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