Chapter 8

8

In mead, there is truth.

~ Grandma Korbian

Kaylina washed dishes and mead-making equipment in the kitchen while her brother made his signature spice blends. She'd started all the batches she could until she could visit the druid preserve for more honey—or until Grandma sent some up from the south.

Numerous varieties were ready for the grand opening, including a delicious strawberry mead that Frayvar kept sampling. He promised he was contemplating a dessert that would complement it, but the way his eyes rolled back in his head and his lips smacked made her doubt anything other than pleasure was involved in the tasting.

A clang came from the rear courtyard. Something ringing off the gate?

When Kaylina looked out the kitchen window, she spotted a blond man in overalls and a homespun shirt. When their eyes met, he smiled and waved.

She grimaced. He wasn't wearing a hood and cloak, with a gag dangling from his fingers, but the other thugs hadn't looked like kidnappers either.

The smiling man pantomimed drinking from a mug.

"We're not open yet," she called out the window.

He made the drinking gesture again, then dug in his pocket and fished out a wrinkled liviti bill. Was that a five? That was enough for a couple of goblets of mead.

The part of her that was all businesswoman—and that craved recognition and to prove herself, independent of her family—wanted to take his money and give him a drink. Maybe he had lots of friends and would tell them how fabulous it was. The wiser part of her was wary after the previous night's experience.

"Can you scrub my stock pot while you're washing the carboys?" Frayvar hadn't noticed their visitor yet.

"No. I only scrub containers and equipment slathered with honey."

"I could put a few drops in the pot."

"No. Come over here, please. Does this look like a potential customer? Or a kidnapper?"

Frayvar joined her at the window. When the man saw a second person, his brows rose and he lifted the bill again.

"The other guys pretended to be interested in our food too," she added.

"I remember. They used my signature cherry-mint reduction against you."

"In a most dastardly way."

The man clasped his hands over his chest and bowed his head in a popular prayer gesture for several of the gods.

"I'll offer him a goblet through the gate," Kaylina decided. "If that's all he wants, he won't mind drinking it out there. After all, there's a nice view of the river."

"A view that's now free of dead people, thanks to the rangers sending a wagon over to collect the kidnappers."

"Be sure to mention the lack of corpses in our marketing material."

"Yes, such selling points must be highlighted." Frayvar waved toward the visitor again. "Do you want me to go out and ask him which mead he wants?"

"Nope. I'm picking for him. See those freckles? He looks like a fruit lover. I'll give him the red currant-raspberry melomel."

"I was afraid you'd say the strawberry."

"Because you want all of that for yourself?"

"Not all of it, but if I decide to pair it with a dessert, I'll need plenty on hand."

"You're more likely to pair it with your tongue."

"Not more likely," Frayvar protested.

"Equally likely?"

"That might be true."

Kaylina took a bottle from the root cellar and grabbed one of the dented metal goblets that had come with the castle—one she wouldn't be disappointed to lose if the man ran off with it. She also strapped the belt and scabbard holding Vlerion's brother's sword to her waist. Her sword, he'd called it, but she considered it a loaner.

The man smiled when she walked into the courtyard—if the presence of the sword fazed him, he didn't show it—and waved his bill again. His cheekbones stood out, and Kaylina thought him on the verge of being gaunt, but he was still handsome.

"Five liviti is enough for two goblets." Kaylina stopped outside of his reach and showed him the bottle. "Do you have any thirsty friends with you?" Thirsty kidnapping colleagues, her mind silently added.

"No, but I'm parched, and that looks fantastic. The weather is really heating up."

Southern-bred Kaylina couldn't help but scoff at the words. She'd yet to be tempted to wear fewer than two layers of clothing, all long-sleeved. Even when the wan sun was out here, it rarely provoked a sweat.

"If you think this is warm, you might collapse in the Vamorka Islands." Kaylina eased close enough to take the bill, then stepped back to pour.

"That's where you're from? I wondered. There's speculation, you know."

"Yes, I've somehow aroused a lot of interest, considering how short a time I've been in Port Jirador."

"Well, you did move into a cursed castle that's recently started shooting streams of purple fire at enemies." His eyebrows rose.

"Enemies, arsonists, kidnappers, and patrons who don't tip well." Done pouring, she watched his face as she spoke to see if he would react to the mention of kidnappers.

"Oh." It was the last bit that made his eyebrows rise further in concern. "Here." He dug into his pocket and offered a two-liviti bill. Then, after glancing toward the tower and at her sword, pulled out another bill. "Is that enough?"

"Yeah." Feeling guilty for prompting the tip—she'd only meant it as a joke—Kaylina added more mead to the goblet, filling it to the brim, before handing it to him. "Plenty. The plant that's responsible for the curse is in a good mood this morning."

"Because of the heat." He smiled and took a long drink before tilting his head. "Wait, did you just say a plant is responsible for the curse? I'd heard about vines killing people…"

"One that the Daygarii left to guard the castle."

"Huh. I guess it makes sense that druids would use plants to oversee their interests." He drank again and smiled. "This is really good. I heard you're the mead-maker. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"I guess that's another reason to hope we can get you on our side." His easygoing smile reminded her of Jankarr.

"You're with the Virts, I assume?"

"I work at the brick factory, the same as my brother. Our father used to work there too, but we lost him in an accident that could have been prevented if the lord in charge cared about the safety of his workers."

"That was a yes , right?"

Kaylina wasn't unsympathetic, not in the least, but she couldn't help but feel wary. Not only had the Virts set fire to Stillguard Castle, apparently to test her and see if she was associated with the rangers, but, as she'd been thinking about before, some of them wanted her for her supposed druid powers. Still others had discussed killing her before she could use her powers on behalf of the aristocracy. The Virts were far too interested in her.

"It's a yes. I don't agree with everything our leaders do though." Maybe he was watching her face for reactions. Negative reactions. "We need change, and I'm not above…" Before continuing, he lowered his voice and glanced left and right. "I'm not above a little sabotage, especially sawing the spokes in the wheels of Lord Yarrowfall's carriage, but I'm no murderer, and I don't condone the assassination attempts. I want a peaceful solution. If we had a little more power, we could force the king and the nobles to negotiate with us. All we want is better wages, shorter working hours, more safety in the factories, and a day off here and there so people aren't so tired on shift all the time." He grimaced, the memory of his father's death perhaps haunting him. "I wouldn't be opposed to a new system of government in which we aren't absolute nobodies, but… I think that's unrealistic. It seems like the other stuff is more achievable." He held the empty goblet out for a refill.

"One would hope." Kaylina took it and poured more mead in, waiting for him to implore her to help him. "There are more commoners than aristocrats, and you're working in the factories where you're capable of sabotage, as you just said, so it seems like you do have power. What'd you say your name was?" She planned to report this guy's visit to Vlerion.

He hesitated. "Grittor."

Kaylina would apparently have to give Vlerion a fake name. She handed the man the refilled goblet anyway. After all, he had paid and tipped.

"Thanks. The problem with that kind of power is that the owners know who's responsible and there are repercussions." Grittor shuddered. "Serious repercussions. You're aware of the hangings?"

Kaylina shook her head. "Sorry, I haven't kept up on the local news."

"It's hard to keep up on news that pertains to commoners, now that the indie press has been destroyed." Grittor looked at her as he drank.

That look was probably to inform her that he knew she'd been involved in that.

"I hear presses get destroyed pretty often when you let horned national enemies man the letters." She refused to feel guilty about her role in halting the Virt newspaper.

Grittor sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "I suppose so. That wasn't a wise plan. I had nothing to do with it."

"Naturally. Take your time finishing that. I've got to get back to work."

"Wait," he blurted, lifting a hand. "I have a request."

"If it's for the blueberry mead, that's a small-batch specialty, and five liviti will only get you half a goblet." Kaylina had no interest in hearing his request.

"That sounds fabulous. If I order it, will you stay and talk longer?" Grittor smiled flirtatiously.

"Only long enough to pour it for you." Maybe she would send Frayvar out to handle that.

Grittor fished in his pocket again but was slower to produce money this time. "As I was saying before, the authorities used to throw suspected saboteurs in jail, but the king is extra grumpy right now. The, uhm, Kar'ruk alliance was a bad, bad idea. We all knew it, but some of the leaders… Look, I think the best thing we could do is find someone with a little power to help us. Maybe the kind of power that could convince an ancient druid plant to shoot up the city. Or just threaten to do it." Grittor handed her another bill. "The royals and nobles would listen and come to the negotiations table if we had druid magic on our side."

"No, they would send assassins to kill the plant wrangler." Kaylina took the bill and turned to leave.

"I have intel that may be helpful to you," Grittor called. "It's about the other mead maker in town. Jana Bloomlong."

Though Kaylina's instincts told her to walk inside and send her brother to deliver the next drink, she couldn't help but turn around. Since Jana was her other suspect when it came to orchestrating that kidnapping, she had to accept any information offered about her.

"If it's that my mead is far superior, I'm already aware of that."

"I'd say you're cocky, but after drinking two goblets, I can't disagree with your assessment."

"Good." Since this guy was flattering her because he wanted her help, Kaylina shouldn't have felt any pride at the comment, but she did lift her chin, positive her mead was superior.

"She's looking to hire people—commoners—who are struggling to get by and will take her coin without asking a lot of questions. She wants them to show up at your opening night and spread rumors to all those about to walk in, reminding everyone that you tried to poison the queen and might serve them poisoned mead."

Kaylina clenched her jaw in irritation, but she'd expected Jana to continue to be a pain.

"If it helps," Grittor said, "I haven't heard of many taking her up on the offer. As much as commoners like me could use money, the recent and lethal demonstration of what this castle can do hasn't left people eager to come close to it. Just those fools who love trying new drinks and can't resist the chance to speak with a beautiful woman." He backed up from the gate so that he could bow to her.

Ignoring that comment, Kaylina lifted the liviti bills he'd given her. "You don't seem to have a shortage of money."

Had he perhaps accepted what Jana was offering and come over to scout the place? To see if it would be safe for his people to show up at the grand opening and do exactly what he'd told her about?

"Oh, don't be fooled. My purse is never overflowing, but sometimes it's worth giving up a few meals to lay a foundation for future prosperity." Grittor set the empty goblet on the crossbar of the gate. Those pronounced cheekbones did suggest he missed meals often. "Do consider my words, please, Ms. Korbian, and let me know if there's anything I can do to make amends for past transgressions my colleagues have inflicted upon you. If it's any consolation, some of them are hanging even now in Banker Square."

"I wouldn't wish death on anyone, transgressions or not." She didn't comment on him knowing her name when she hadn't shared it. By now, this entire city knew far more about her than she cared for. Why couldn't she become known for her mead, not whatever funky blood flowed through her veins?

"I'm glad to hear it. Before I go, is there any other information I might offer you that would make you think kindly of me and mine? I do have large ears that I turn often toward gossiping coworkers." Grittor tapped one of them.

They weren't that large, but they did protrude a touch.

"I'll give you another goblet for free if you can tell me who sent the kidnappers who attacked me last night."

Grittor blinked in surprise. "I… don't know. I'd heard the rangers wanted you—and may already have you, much to my consternation. And some of the Virt leaders have contemplated that your forceful acquisition could be useful, but I believe I talked them out of that. People who are kidnapped tend not to want to work faithfully with their captors."

"Imagine that." Kaylina wondered if he had enough sway in the Virt organization to talk anyone out of anything. He wasn't much older than she, and his smiles made him seem boyish and naive. She reminded herself that Mitzy, who was about Frayvar's age, had some pull.

"I'm not aware of anyone else who might be interested in kidnapping you." Grittor spread his arms, his expression apologetic. "I will keep an ear turned into the wind and let you know if I hear anything. Another serving of your excellent mead would be most appealing." Grittor bowed again and departed.

Kaylina collected the empty goblet and headed inside, relieved he hadn't asked her to open the gate or tried harder to inveigle a promise from her. Even if he seemed more reasonable than the other Virts she'd dealt with thus far, she didn't want to pick a side—or be caught in the middle.

"Did he like the mead?" Frayvar asked from the sink, his sleeves rolled up as he scrubbed the stock pot he'd tried to foist on her.

"That's your most burning question?"

"I heard the rest through the window, but I couldn't see his facial expressions from here."

"He seemed to like it, but he was here to recruit me and would have pretended to enjoy it even if it was loathsome."

"We don't serve anything loathsome ." Frayvar gave her an affronted look. "We don't even have anything loathsome in the kitchen."

"One of the traps caught a rat this morning." She pointed toward the pantry where it had been laid.

"We're not serving that."

"Not contemplating my earlier suggestion of a rat tartare, huh?"

"Your sense of humor is dreadful. Maybe we are less related than I always assumed." Frayvar squinted thoughtfully at her.

"At the least, we have the same mother. And sister." Kaylina winced at the reminder that Silana would show up before long. "I'd better clean more than the mead equipment today."

"I would."

"You don't think she'll try to convince us to go back home with her if she doesn't believe this is a good business venture, do you?" Kaylina reminded herself that she was an adult and her sister couldn't force her to do anything.

"She might try to convince you to go home if she finds out people are trying to kidnap you."

"We won't mention that to her."

"What happens if the next kidnapping attempt occurs while she's here?" Frayvar asked.

"It won't."

"You're being optimistic."

"Isn't that something you usually encourage me to be?"

"I just tell you to quit having funks where you lie in bed, read, and don't do anything else."

Kaylina wished she still had the luxury of those funks, but with her sister coming, the grand opening in the works, and kidnappers after her, there wasn't time. She had to keep pushing forward, whether her brain went on strike or not.