Chapter 17

The pleasure foundin one’s cups is more a boon for the mind than the body.

~ Dainbridge III, the playwright

“This will be our outdoor dining area.” The lack of a breeze almost made the sun bathing Kaylina’s face feel warm. Almost.

She and Frayvar sat at a table in the courtyard behind the kitchen, with goblets holding samples from their first batches of mead and bowls of an apple-cider beef stew he’d made. It was one of the recipes he was trialing for their soft opening. He’d even baked bread, and they’d gotten fresh butter from the market, so Kaylina was chomping with pleasure, feeling optimistic for the first time in days. She was deliberately not thinking about the body that had been sprawled a few feet away the first time she’d seen this place.

“Out back? By the kitchen?” Frayvar sipped the apple mead, a classic cyser that complemented the stew. He’d always loved recipes that incorporated fruit.

“It’s protected from the prevailing wind, has a view of the river, and those trees will be pretty once they leaf out.” Kaylina sipped the semi-sweet mead that was one of her favorites, pleased it tasted like Grandma’s. She had assumed it would, since she’d followed the recipe precisely, but Grandma had never had to make mead in an environment like this. Who knew what weird flavors a curse could impart?

Earlier, Kaylina had been tempted to take a walk along the river, to see more of the town and mention their upcoming opening to anyone out, but her crutch still leaned nearby. She could move around without it, but the punctures ached if she used the leg too much. The morning before, the doctor had arrived in a taxi-service carriage, wearing clothing that didn’t hint of a ranger affiliation. He’d checked on her wounds and given her a fresh bandage.

“I suppose,” Frayvar said, “but if we put tables on the side near the street, passersby will see through the gate that we have customers, and they’ll be enticed to stop in.”

“They’ll be able to see if we don’t have customers too.”

Frayvar frowned at her. “This morning, you promised you would be optimistic today.”

“Sorry.” Kaylina grimaced at the reminder that she’d struggled to get out of bed the last few mornings, with feelings of desolation, regret, and defeat weighing on her more heavily than the blankets. The past week’s gray sky and another round of snow hadn’t helped. This was the first day that had dawned clear and bright since they’d arrived in Port Jirador. “I will be. And I am. The sun feels good and is making me think my dream might be attainable. All morning, I’ve been envisioning our tables filled with people enjoying our food and mead. I also appreciate that no rangers, aside from their conscientious doctor, have come by to pester us since the night I was injured.”

“Do you?” Frayvar arched his eyebrows. “You’ve mentioned Lord Vlerion a lot.”

“Only to curse him for being pompous, I’m sure.”

Had she brought him up often? She’d thought of him from time to time, but life was simpler when he wasn’t around. When none of the rangers were. Left undisturbed, Kaylina and Frayvar had made progress cleaning, and a crew from Saybrook Industries had come to repair broken wood and missing stones, so their eating house could open soon. They’d agreed not to worry about the inn part for now, largely because of the curse and the skeleton-filled rooms upstairs. Someday, they would have to clean those out and figure out the glowing tower, but Kaylina first wanted to see if they could host an opening night without anyone being murdered by the castle.

“You’ve mentioned his muscles three times,” Frayvar said.

“Are you keeping track?”

“I do like to collect and collate data.”

“If I’ve brought up his muscles, it was only to say that it would have been useful to have someone strong to help us move furniture.” Kaylina blushed as she remembered the alcove and being pressed against Vlerion for those long minutes while he stroked her hair. She didn’t like him, so she didn’t know why that memory kept popping up. It wasn’t as if she wanted a relationship with a haughty ranger.

“Hm.” Frayvar pushed a notepad toward her, columns of numbers taking up the top page. “I’ve put together our expenses for the last week, what a realistic budget would be, how much we need to gross to break even, and how many customers a day and the average ticket cost we’ll need to see to achieve that.”

“That’s good.” Kaylina sipped from her goblet while eyeing a spruce tree near the river. It wasn’t one of the handful of evergreens that grew on the islands down south, but she’d once seen a recipe for a mead flavored with spruce tips and admitted curiosity. When they had their flagship recipes perfected, she would experiment with some of the local ingredients.

Something moved behind the tree, startling her.

“We got our lease for less than I expected, not to mention all the free equipment and supplies, so we’re under budget. I didn’t anticipate that. Even so, my funds will only go so far. We need to start bringing in an income soon.”

“Naturally.” Kaylina leaned back so she could see… Was that blue fur?

“What do you think about printing up posters and distributing them in the markets? Maybe we can give away free samples on the first day.”

“Good idea. We’ll have to do some marketing in the beginning, until the magnificence of our food and word of mouth combine to make us a raving success.”

A taybarri padded out from behind the tree and looked at her. Was that Crenoch?

“I take it back,” Frayvar said. “You are in an optimistic mood today.”

“You did request that.”

“I guess so, but don’t forget to be realistic. You’ve heard Grandma’s stories about how it took five years for the eating house to turn a profit and ten before they started getting recognition and awards.”

“It didn’t help that pirates lit the Gull on fire twice during that time, and thieves robbed it every other winter.”

Yes, that was Crenoch. He walked toward the open gate to the courtyard, his tail swishing and his nostrils twitching.

“Oh, we’ll have our hardships too,” Frayvar said. “I have no doubt.”

Though Kaylina liked the taybarri, she set her goblet down and hurried to the gate, intending to close it. She would have loved to stroke that lush blue fur, but she didn’t want the rangers irked with her. Nor did she want the castle to start thinking she was allied with them.

“Sorry, Crenoch.” She gripped the rusty gate. “We can’t serve furry people. Besides, I have a feeling someone is looking for you.”

And that someone would be torqued with her if he found his mount in her courtyard again.

As Kaylina swung the gate shut, Crenoch sprang and blurred. That was the only word she had for it. He blurred and disappeared, appearing an instant later in the courtyard, right next to the goblet-laden table.

Frayvar cried out in surprise and fell off the bench.

For a moment, Kaylina could only grip the half-closed gate and stare. She had, of course, heard the stories of the taybarri’s inherent power to do exactly what she’d witnessed—it was one of the reasons the rangers loved riding them into battle—but she’d never seen it before.

With Crenoch looming, Frayvar half-scrambled and half-rolled away, raising an arm defensively in case the taybarri attacked. But the only things Crenoch attacked were the goblets. And he did so far more gently than Kaylina would have expected. The tip of his large tongue dipped into them, and his tail swished happily across the pavers as he lapped up mead.

“Uhm.” Kaylina hurried to help her brother up while debating if she had the power to stop the sampling. She had no idea how much Crenoch weighed, but taybarri were bigger—especially longer—than horses, and she had seen them carry up to four grown men. “I don’t think animals are supposed to have alcohol, my friend.”

She looked at her brother for confirmation.

“Are you asking me about taybarri dietary preferences?” Frayvar brushed dirt off his clothes.

“More about what might kill them. Like Grandpa’s hounds can’t have cacao. Is alcohol poisonous to taybarri?” Kaylina glanced through the gate, hoping to spot a ranger or someone else who could pull the big animal away.

“I don’t know.”

“None of the zillion books you’ve read covered that?”

“Sorry.”

Crenoch hadn’t finished the first goblet—his tongue was wide enough that he couldn’t get it all the way in—but he moved on to another like a patron at a tasting. Contented noises that sounded like a mix between a cat purring and a chicken clucking came from deep in his throat.

Kaylina stepped forward and touched his neck. “That’s probably enough, buddy. I don’t know if that’s good for you.”

Crenoch paused long enough to wash her face with his tongue before returning it to the mead.

“I’m glad you like it though.” She wiped the moisture away and plucked up the rest of the goblets.

“Maybe we can put that on the labels when we bottle some for selling,” Frayvar said. “Approved by taybarri everywhere. People like taybarri, you know.”

“Maybe so, but they don’t want to eat what they eat.” Kaylina hurried into the kitchen to put the goblets somewhere Crenoch couldn’t reach. She well remembered that enough of his head and neck could fit through the doorway that he could grab things off the closest counters.

“Uhm, Kay?” A worried note filled Frayvar’s voice.

Afraid irate rangers had come to pummel them for giving one of their mounts alcohol, Kaylina grabbed her sling and hurried back outside.

Crenoch had backed from the table, the remaining goblet tipped over with the mead spilled out. His great body swayed, his steps unsteady.

Kaylina swore, terror tightening her throat. Was he dying? Was the mead poison to him, as she’d feared?

She rushed forward, reaching toward the taybarri, but she had no idea what she could do. “Get some water, Fray.”

The thundering of heavy paws on the ground came from the river path, and three more taybarri galloped into view.

“No, no,” Kaylina called. “Don’t come in.”

Only after she spoke did she realize that these taybarri had riders, Vlerion behind Jankarr on one, and two rangers in black that she didn’t recognize on the others.

“Rangers come where they wish,” Vlerion said coolly, but he only looked at her for a second before the swaying Crenoch captured his attention.

His taybarri pitched onto his side, landing with a thud, his tail stretched out behind him.

“Crenoch!” Vlerion cried in alarm as he sprang from Jankarr”s mount and ran into the courtyard. “What did you do?” he demanded, skewering Kaylina with an icy gaze as he dropped to his knees beside the taybarri.

Something surged in his eyes, that dangerous glint she’d seen before. No, it was more than a glint. She remembered the beast that had torn the fur shark to pieces and smashed in its head. A wildness in Vlerion’s eyes promised that he could tear her to pieces.

Fear made Kaylina stumble back and raise her hands. “It was an accident. He showed up and drank the mead. I put the other goblets away and tried to stop him. I…”

She trailed off because Vlerion had closed his eyes and didn’t seem to be listening to her. His face tilted toward Crenoch, and he was humming. It was soft, and she doubted the other rangers heard. They were slowly dismounting and walking in, their hands on their weapons. It was the same tune she’d heard Vlerion hum in the catacombs.

Since he wasn’t listening to her, Kaylina addressed Jankarr. “I swear I didn’t mean for him to get any of the mead. He showed up, and he even flashed through the gate. That’s what it’s called, right? Flashing? He’s so big that I didn’t know what to do, and I wasn’t sure he would let me take the mead away. He has all those fangs.” She could hear herself burbling, the panic in her voice. Not only did she fear what Vlerion might do to her, but she was horrified that she might, however inadvertently, be responsible for Crenoch’s death.

“He okay, Vlerion?” Jankarr asked, only twitching his fingers toward Kaylina to acknowledge her words. “I can see him breathing.”

“He still lives.” Vlerion stopped humming and opened his eyes. His hand rested on Crenoch’s side. “For now. I don’t know if he is okay.”

His tone was calmer than Kaylina had expected. Though he didn’t look at her, he had found his equanimity.

“Bradnoray has given his taybarri ale before,” one of the rangers volunteered. “It made him fall asleep.”

“I shall hope the results of this… mishap are as benign.” Finally, Vlerion looked at Kaylina again. The wild glint was gone, and his face was masked.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but I didn’t invite him in. I—” One of the other taybarri padded between her and Vlerion and sniffed at the spilled mead.

“Get back, Zavron,” Jankarr barked, lunging for the taybarri.

But the great tongue came out, and the creature didn’t budge.

“Wipe that mess up!” one of the other rangers barked as his taybarri also trotted for the table.

“That’s what they’re doing,” Frayvar muttered, but he ran inside for a towel.

Not wanting all the taybarri unconscious in her courtyard, Kaylina ran to the table and yanked out the hem of her shirt. She leaned in and attempted to wipe up the remaining spill without having her belly washed by a taybarri tongue, but the creatures had already slurped up the liquid, and she got only saliva and a splinter in her shirt.

The ranger who’d given the order lifted a hand as he glowered at Kaylina. Vlerion appeared at his side and caught his wrist as another of the taybarri stepped between her and the rangers.

“I wasn’t going to hit her,” the man muttered. “I was worried about Rugger.”

A great moist snore came from Crenoch. Others followed, the taybarri’s breathing deep and regular as he snoozed loudly.

“One wonders,” Vlerion murmured, “if the Kar’ruk would have as much respect for us and our fearsome mounts if they saw scenes such as this.”

The taybarri that had stepped protectively in front of Kaylina swished its tail and leaned on her. The creature was so heavy that she staggered back, her leg twinging as she put unexpected weight on it. She caught herself on the table. The unapologetic creature licked her, forcing her to again use her shirt to wipe up saliva, this time from her face.

“How long is yours going to sleep?” Jankarr glanced at Kaylina’s bared midsection before looking at Vlerion. “The captain said to grab him and be back for weapons practice. That starts in ten minutes.”

“You’re welcome to carry Crenoch if you’re concerned about punctuality,” Vlerion said.

“I’m not Targon’s favorite. I have to be.”

“He likes you fine. You’re a scrappy commoner who’s overcome his modest upbringing to excel among the rangers and loyally serve the crown. He’d sleep with you if you had a bigger chest.”

“Thanks for putting that terrifying imagery in my mind,” Jankarr said.

Vlerion stepped around Kaylina”s taybarri visitor as she was moving her foot to keep from being stepped on. He eyed her, Crenoch, and her again, his expression dyspeptic. At least it wasn’t scary, the way it had been before.

“They are drawn to you,” Vlerion stated.

“They’re drawn to my honey.”

“They are also drawn to you. This is problematic.” His lips flattened.

“I don’t disagree.” Kaylina moved her foot again. This taybarri hadn’t gotten any mead, but it had also started purr-clucking. “But it’s not like it’s my fault.”

Only when Vlerion’s gaze shifted along her arm did she realized she’d started petting the creature. She yanked her hand back, but that wasn’t her fault either. It was self-defense to keep from being knocked over. Had she been sitting, the huge taybarri would have been in her lap.

A moan came from the rooftop. There wasn’t any wind.

Kaylina shifted, reminded that the castle didn’t like rangers. And she had a courtyard full of them.

Vlerion opened his mouth, but a newcomer spoke from the gate.

“Would someone like to tell me how in all the altered orchards this is keeping the city from noticing a link between rangers and this new meadery?” That sounded like Captain Targon.

The rangers straightened to stand at attention as they faced their boss. Only Vlerion answered.

“The taybarri are drawn to Korbian.”

“Tell me something that isn’t blatantly obvious.” Targon stepped up to Vlerion’s side. “Is yours asleep?”

“Crenoch imbibed alcohol,” Vlerion said.

Targon gave Kaylina an exasperated look, as if he knew without a doubt that she was to blame. Just because she’d poured the goblets and sat down outside with her brother to sample them and write descriptions for the tasting menu…

“We have to do something about her,” Targon said.

A chill went down Kaylina’s spine. What did that mean? That they would send her home? That they would kill her?

“What?” The wariness in Vlerion’s tone suggested Kaylina had reason to be concerned about Targon’s attention. Had the ranger captain made people who were no longer useful to him disappear before? How ruthless was he?

Targon eyed the taybarri shifting closer to Kaylina, wanting her to return to petting it. She kept her arms down. It moved its head to rest its broad jaw on her shoulder.

“You’re not helping,” she whispered.

It whuffed in her ear.

“I think she’s an anrokk,” Targon said.

A what?

“Likely,” Vlerion said.

Kaylina looked for her brother, memorizer of encyclopedias, but he lingered in the doorway several yards away, a towel in his hand.

“As long as she’s here—” Targon pointed at the ground, “—they’re going to be drawn by whatever allure she’s exuding.”

“Just the allure of honey,” Kaylina said.

“It’s more than that.” Vlerion looked at Targon. “Will you send them back south?”

“Oh no. Anrokk don’t come along that often. Jastadar is the only one we have right now, and he’ll retire soon, something that very few rangers get to do.”

“Not many live long enough to,” Vlerion said.

“Exactly. But if the entire taybarri herd is looking out for you in battle, your odds go up.”

A couple of the rangers gave Kaylina dark looks that she couldn’t interpret. Once they’d realized their taybarri were only at risk of naps and not death, they’d stopped glaring at her about poisoning them. So, what fresh irritation was gnawing at their insides now?

“Must be nice,” Vlerion said softly. Wistfully.

Ah, was that it? They all wanted to be anrokk, whatever that was.

Targon snorted at Vlerion. “The herd would probably trample you if you fell.”

“I’m aware,” Vlerion said, that wistfulness lingering in his eyes as he looked from the snoring taybarri to Kaylina.

“Report to ranger headquarters at dawn, Korbian,” Targon told her.

“Ah, why?”

His eyes narrowed. “Why, my lord. Do they not teach children in the southern province proper etiquette when addressing nobles?”

“At least she hasn’t called you a pirate,” Vlerion said.

That earned him an exasperated look from his captain. Good. Kaylina didn’t know what was going on but didn’t feel she should take the brunt of everyone’s ire.

“Why, my lord—” Kaylina worked hard to keep her irreverence out of her tone, “—do you want me to come to your headquarters again? My injury is getting better—thanks for asking—but I don’t think I’m ready to demonstrate my marksmanship abilities.”

“My men will make sure you’re ready for that and more. You’re to train to become a ranger.”

“What?” That wasn’t what she’d come north for. They couldn’t conscript her, could they? Women didn’t even become rangers, did they? She hadn’t seen any when she visited the headquarters. “You can’t just— I have a dream. This.” She pointed to the castle and to the table where the mead had spilled. “You can’t walk in and give me a new career.”

A career where people didn’t live to see retirement. She didn’t know how to fight, and all rangers did was fight.

Vlerion didn’t appear surprised by his captain’s words.

“You’re a kingdom subject, aren’t you?” Targon asked.

“Yes, but—”

“Then you will do what your people need.”

“The meadery—”

“Can be run by your brother. He’s the brains, isn’t he?” Targon pointed toward the notebook full of numbers still open at the end of the table, as if he was certain Frayvar had done that. Why did so many people know so much about them and their business?

“It’s my dream.” Kaylina crossed her arms over her chest.

“Now, you can have another dream.”

“Captain,” Vlerion said. “You can’t force people to join the rangers.”

“Watch me.”

“If you want the meadery to be taybarri free, then move her and her projects into ranger headquarters. But there’s no reason to—”

“There are many reasons to train and use an anrokk. Do not question me, Vlerion, or I’ll flog you myself. No, I’ll do one better than that.” Targon looked at Kaylina, calculation entering his eyes, before pinning Vlerion with his stare. “You’ll handle her training.”

For a stunned moment, Vlerion didn’t speak. When he did, it was only after he’d frowned over at Crenoch, who’d woken from his nap and lifted his head to gaze at Kaylina.

“I am not interested in that duty,” Vlerion said stiffly.

“Too bad. While you’re teaching her to fight, knock some respect into her. She won’t make it long in the north if she can’t learn to say yes, my lord.” Targon waved at the taybarri and the rangers. “Everyone back to headquarters.”

Targon stalked out, leading the way.

Vlerion, after helping Crenoch to rise, looked darkly over his shoulder at Kaylina as he walked out.

He might have tried to help her, but he did not want this duty.

“Do you know what anrokk means?” Kaylina asked after the rangers had cleared out and only she and Frayvar remained in the courtyard.

“It’s an ancient Daygarii druid word. It’s someone who has an affinity for animals. For their kind, it meant a magical link. Since humans aren’t magical in any way that science has ever been able to prove, when we use the word to describe people, it means animals are drawn to them, usually for reasons known only to the animals.”

“That’s silly. The taybarri like honey and know we have it. That’s it.”

“None of them have licked me.” Did he sound envious?

She would gladly give him this affinity. Then Frayvar could go train as a ranger. Except, he couldn’t. With his frail frame, awkwardness, and wheeze that came on with exercise, he was a more unlikely warrior than she.

“I don’t get it, Fray. I’m not an anrokk. I like animals, but it’s not like they communicate with me or treat me differently than they do others.”

“No? You’ve never noticed that all of Grandpa’s hounds like to sleep in your bed?”

“I notice when there’s no room in the bed for me.”

“Even the bees like you. You’ve never been stung.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure it does. I can’t go near a hive without a smoker, whereas they let you amble up, stick your head in, and take out whatever honey you want.”

“I use a smoker. You’re being silly.”

“Because Grandpa insists, but do you really think you need to?”

Kaylina wanted to continue to protest, but his words and frank expression made her pause. She did always get along with animals, unless one counted the fur shark that had tried to eat her. But it had been shot at. That might have made it inordinately cranky. It would have made her cranky.

“What am I going to do?” Groaning, she bent over and gripped her knees. “I came to make mead, not war. Do you think I can… not show up?”

“If you don’t, one of them will be here five minutes after dawn to haul you off. They know where we live.”

The blackness of despair crept into Kaylina. Since they’d arrived, nothing had gone right, but she’d still had a shot at her dream. Now… now…

She rubbed her face. She didn’t know.

“If I were you, I would feign ineptitude,” Frayvar said. “When Targon asks to see your sling capabilities, hurl every round over the wall.”

“I hit Vlerion on the head with a shot the day we met. He knows my aim is good.”

“Well, maybe you’ll be lousy with swords. You’ve never picked one up before, right? You could cut off your own toe with your first swing.”

“Thanks so much.”

“You could pretend to be lousy, even if you’re not.”

Kaylina slumped down on the bench at the table.

“Or we could stow away on a ship and go home,” Frayvar added softly.

“After we’ve done so much? We’re almost ready to open.”

“I know. I miss everyone back home, but after all this, I’d like to see it through.”

“You still can.” Kaylina couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

The clip-clop of horse hooves on the river trail made Kaylina lift a wary head. Jana, their competition, rode slowly past, smiling and lifting a hand, as if she was out for a ride and had happened to come this way.

“You can, and you have to,” Kaylina caught herself saying as the woman continued down the trail. “I don’t want her feeling smug, like we left because we couldn’t handle some competition. I don’t want her winning.”

“I didn’t know you were entering a contest.”

“Looks like we both are.”