Rienne. “No, I don’t. What’s your interest in them?”
Taran hesitated. He knew Paulus well—the man seemed more like an uncle than a friend—and he’d often listened to Taran’s tales of woe when some experiment or other went wrong. But this latest problem was more serious and the Journeyman didn’t want the details spread around the village. He knew about Paulus’ love of gossip and if his neighbors learned that he had an Andaryan weapon concealed in his house and that its rightful owners just might come looking for it, he and his friends would be forced to leave quickly. However, if he wanted more information, he was going to have to tell Paulus something. He made a decision.
“Would you mind if we waited behind tonight? There’s something I’d like to tell you but it had better be in private.”
“If you’re prepared to buy beer all night, I’ll listen to anything,” said Paulus.
“I’ll help behind the bar, if you like.”
Paulus grinned. “Well, I’ll not turn down the offer. Just don’t scare away any customers.”
Taran made a face. “I’ll be over when I’ve finished my ale.”
He was as good as his word and worked hard behind the bar. The tavern grew crowded as many people seemed to have seen or heard of the Kingsmen passing through and wanted to compare theories with their neighbors. Taran heard all sorts of speculation, but no one knew anything for certain.
The talk had long since turned to other topics, the rumors too insubstantial to hold the drinkers’ attention for long, when a sudden commotion turned all heads. The door was thrown wide with a crash and two men staggered in, one supporting the other. Both were obviously down to the dregs of their strength.
“Raiders. We’ve seen raiders!” rasped one of them, his words shocking the crowd into momentary silence.
It didn’t last long. Chairs scraped back as people surged to their feet, some running to help the two men, others bolting out the door.
“It’s Jaspen and Dyler,” exclaimed Paulus. Taran only vaguely recognized them; they were from one of the remoter farmsteads.
Those who had run outside returned, confirming there was no immediate sign of raiders. The two men had been helped into chairs by the fire and Rienne’s competent tones cut through the villagers’ urgent questions.
“Be quiet, give them some space. Paulus, can you bring some brandy?”
When Paulus produced a bottle of brandy, Rienne made each man take a healthy swallow.
“Leave them be,” she snapped as the crowd once more clamored for answers. Used to obeying her commands, they subsided but stayed close, forming a loose ring about the two men.
Once the brandy had taken effect, Rienne asked, “Do you feel up to talking now?”
One of them, a thin, lined man with faded blue eyes and calloused, work-worn hands, glanced fearfully up at her.
“We was attacked.”
“What, raiders attacked your farm?” demanded Paulus. “Are Tula and the girls alright?”
The man shook his head.
“No, they wasn’t after the farm. They wasn’t even on our land.” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion and he took another swallow of brandy. “They was bein’ chased by a group of Kingsmen. Me and Jas was goin’ home through the fields when we heard ’em comin’ from over Brookbarn way. There was about twenty of ’em, all ridin’ hell for leather, and the Kingsmen was comin’ up behind ’em. We dodged for some trees quick as we could but the demons”—there was a sharp intake of breath from the rapt crowd—“they had seen the trees, too, and they headed straight for us. The Kingsmen, they chased in after ’em and caught up to some of the stragglers. There was a lot of screamin’ and clashin’ of swords, and some of the demons got cut down. Jas, here, he got caught in the thick of it and one of the dead demons crashed right on top of him. He was pretty well stunned and I ’ad
Taran hesitated. He knew Paulus well—the man seemed more like an uncle than a friend—and he’d often listened to Taran’s tales of woe when some experiment or other went wrong. But this latest problem was more serious and the Journeyman didn’t want the details spread around the village. He knew about Paulus’ love of gossip and if his neighbors learned that he had an Andaryan weapon concealed in his house and that its rightful owners just might come looking for it, he and his friends would be forced to leave quickly. However, if he wanted more information, he was going to have to tell Paulus something. He made a decision.
“Would you mind if we waited behind tonight? There’s something I’d like to tell you but it had better be in private.”
“If you’re prepared to buy beer all night, I’ll listen to anything,” said Paulus.
“I’ll help behind the bar, if you like.”
Paulus grinned. “Well, I’ll not turn down the offer. Just don’t scare away any customers.”
Taran made a face. “I’ll be over when I’ve finished my ale.”
He was as good as his word and worked hard behind the bar. The tavern grew crowded as many people seemed to have seen or heard of the Kingsmen passing through and wanted to compare theories with their neighbors. Taran heard all sorts of speculation, but no one knew anything for certain.
The talk had long since turned to other topics, the rumors too insubstantial to hold the drinkers’ attention for long, when a sudden commotion turned all heads. The door was thrown wide with a crash and two men staggered in, one supporting the other. Both were obviously down to the dregs of their strength.
“Raiders. We’ve seen raiders!” rasped one of them, his words shocking the crowd into momentary silence.
It didn’t last long. Chairs scraped back as people surged to their feet, some running to help the two men, others bolting out the door.
“It’s Jaspen and Dyler,” exclaimed Paulus. Taran only vaguely recognized them; they were from one of the remoter farmsteads.
Those who had run outside returned, confirming there was no immediate sign of raiders. The two men had been helped into chairs by the fire and Rienne’s competent tones cut through the villagers’ urgent questions.
“Be quiet, give them some space. Paulus, can you bring some brandy?”
When Paulus produced a bottle of brandy, Rienne made each man take a healthy swallow.
“Leave them be,” she snapped as the crowd once more clamored for answers. Used to obeying her commands, they subsided but stayed close, forming a loose ring about the two men.
Once the brandy had taken effect, Rienne asked, “Do you feel up to talking now?”
One of them, a thin, lined man with faded blue eyes and calloused, work-worn hands, glanced fearfully up at her.
“We was attacked.”
“What, raiders attacked your farm?” demanded Paulus. “Are Tula and the girls alright?”
The man shook his head.
“No, they wasn’t after the farm. They wasn’t even on our land.” His voice was hoarse with exhaustion and he took another swallow of brandy. “They was bein’ chased by a group of Kingsmen. Me and Jas was goin’ home through the fields when we heard ’em comin’ from over Brookbarn way. There was about twenty of ’em, all ridin’ hell for leather, and the Kingsmen was comin’ up behind ’em. We dodged for some trees quick as we could but the demons”—there was a sharp intake of breath from the rapt crowd—“they had seen the trees, too, and they headed straight for us. The Kingsmen, they chased in after ’em and caught up to some of the stragglers. There was a lot of screamin’ and clashin’ of swords, and some of the demons got cut down. Jas, here, he got caught in the thick of it and one of the dead demons crashed right on top of him. He was pretty well stunned and I ’ad
Similar Books
![Cameron, Paige - The Billionaire Rancher Buys a Wife [Wives for the Western Billionaires 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/620956/thumbs/152x264/cameron-paige-the-billionaire-rancher-buys-a-wife-wives-for-the-western-billionaires-2-siren-publishing-everlasting-classic.jpg)
