Chapter 7

To be testedand fail is disappointing but not so disappointing as to never be tested at all.

~ Elder Taybarri Ravarn

Riding a taybarri and stroking her fingers through its thick, lush fur was amazing. Too bad Kaylina had to share the mount with Frayvar and Vlerion. The stuffy ranger lord hadn’t spoken a word since giving her the challenging you’re-going-to-be-scared-spitless-tonight-in-that-castle stare.

At least she’d talked Frayvar into being the one to ride directly behind Vlerion, with her behind them. That way, she wouldn’t have to wrap her arms around the ranger if the taybarri broke into a gallop. There’d been far too much touching that day for her tastes.

Full night darkened the city as the furry creature ambled down the street paralleling the river and leading to the castle. Its back could have carried even more than three people. Their powerful muscles and inherent magic made the taybarri strong enough for loads that would have dropped horses. Not that anyone had ever hooked one of their kind up to a plow. From what she’d read, they were far too intelligent—and powerful—to allow themselves to be used in any way except as they wished.

The handful of people running late errands or returning from drinking bowed as Vlerion passed on his mount, only glancing at the riders behind him. Per Targon’s order, Kaylina and Frayvar wore borrowed cloaks with the hoods pulled up to hide their faces.

The ranger captain hadn’t said he didn’t want anyone to associate Vlerion with them, but Kaylina assumed that was the reason. They couldn’t be spies for the nobles if the Virts knew they had a relationship.

Not that Kaylina wanted to have a relationship with the nobles. If she’d known where to find the Saybrooks, she might have tried to negotiate a lease herself. Reluctantly, she admitted that Vlerion, who’d built play forts with the girls, might get them a better deal.

When the castle came into view, a black monolith against the night, the skeletal trees rattling in a breeze, there was nothing inviting about it.

Kaylina wouldn’t be deterred. She leaned around her brother to tell Vlerion, “We have five hundred a month to spend on the lease.”

“That’s enough to rent a stable for one horse,” Vlerion said without looking back.

“If the castle is so cursed you don’t think we’ll survive a night there, that should be about right, wouldn’t you think?”

“I didn’t say you wouldn’t survive.”

“You only think we’ll be so scared that we’ll wet ourselves and run screaming to the docks to buy passage on the first ship heading home?”

“That would be the smart thing for you to do. The north isn’t a place for southern innkeepers.”

The taybarri whuffed and shook himself, making Kaylina lunge to grip its fur, lest she fall off. Frayvar flailed and grabbed Vlerion.

“Crenoch is disturbed when people who ride him speak of wetting themselves,” Vlerion said blandly.

Frayvar recovered and stroked a curious hand through the taybarri’s fur, much as Kaylina had. “Can he understand us?”

“To some extent. The elder taybarri most assuredly can, and they watch out for their young.”

Kaylina had heard stories that taybarri gained great intelligence if they survived their long childhoods. The elders had been the ones who had, centuries earlier, allied with humans, letting rangers ride their young into battle to improve the odds that the desirable lands west of the mountains remained safe for both their peoples. It was hard to imagine the two-thousand-pound creature they rode being a baby.

“How old is Crenoch?” she asked.

“Five years. He’s smart and knows a lot of commands—when he chooses to obey them. He loves riding into battle and chomping down enemies.” Vlerion’s voice lowered, and she almost missed the rest. “He’s less pleased to run down humans in the streets of the city.”

Crenoch was or Vlerion was?

Kaylina wondered if the rangers had caught the prisoners who’d broken out of jail and almost asked, but did she want to know? The memory of the man’s head being lopped off swept through her, and she shivered. Had she and Frayvar run, would Vlerion and his mount have chased them down and given them the same treatment?

If she and Frayvar died in the north, who would send word back home? Even if he’d left a note—an essay—their family had to be worried about them. Guilt crept into Kaylina. Even if her kin were stifling and sometimes judgmental, they cared. It was why they were stifling and judgmental.

Crenoch stopped at the open courtyard gate of the castle, no lights burning in the nearby streetlamps, as if the city worker who lit them didn’t want to give people reason to come this way.

Kaylina would have to provide her own lights if she wanted evening visitors to the meadery. Unfortunately, they were a long way from being ready for visitors of any kind. If they were able to sign a lease, that would only be Step One.

As she gazed through the gate at the crumbling castle, the stones silver under the glow of a half moon, the enormity of the task ahead came to her. The repairs and cleaning they would have to do. All the supplies they would have to buy before she could ferment her first batch of mead and Frayvar could cook his first meal. Was there even any firewood for the hearths? Probably not. They might freeze on their first night here.

The fatigue that had been catching up to her before her questioning and the jailbreak threatened to overwhelm her. At least it was nighttime. They could sleep, and tomorrow… She would figure out tomorrow when it came.

Vlerion slid off, producing something from his pocket. The big taybarri head swung over, sniffing at his hand.

“Sugar cube?” Kaylina guessed. “Or dried apple?”

That was what Grandpa’s mare liked.

“He’s not a horse,” Vlerion said. “It’s dried meat pulverized and packed into a cube.”

“Tasty.” Frayvar slid off the taybarri a lot less gracefully, his heel skidding on a patch of ice.

Vlerion caught him, keeping him from falling. “Crenoch likes it.”

Careful not to land in the same icy patch, since she didn’t want Vlerion grabbing her again, Kaylina dropped down.

He stepped closer and reached for something on his belt. A weapon?

Fear surged into her as she remembered his deadly fighting prowess, and she stepped back. She bumped into the taybarri, the creature as immovable as a wall, and felt trapped.

“What are you doing, pirate?” Kaylina blurted, trying to sound tough, but her voice squeaked on the last word.

Vlerion snorted. “Your mouth might get you killed before you make your first batch of wine.”

“Mead.”

“Watch who you call pirate—or anything else derogatory. The nobles can be prickly, especially now.”

The law about flogging came to mind, one she’d never worried about back home. “We don’t have a lot of nobles in the south.”

“The south doesn’t have much agriculture and mining or many factories. The kingdom mostly annexed it so it couldn’t be used as a staging ground by enemies or to house pirate strongholds.”

“Meaning the south doesn’t need nobles?”

“Meaning you aren’t a priority.”

Did he mean that you to be personal?

Vlerion held up what he’d been reaching for, offering it to her. Her grandpa’s sling and pouch of lead rounds.

“Uhm, what is that?” Frayvar’s voice came out even squeakier than hers had a moment earlier. He was pointing toward one of the two front towers at the corners of the castle.

Kaylina stepped away from the taybarri to follow his gaze. An unshuttered window emitted a steady red glow.

“I… don’t know.” Kaylina had seen animals and insects in nature give off photoluminescent greens and blues, and she’d seen altered plants and trees in the wild that glowed at night but not red.

“Lord Vlerion?” Frayvar’s tone was a lot more diffident than hers.

“As I’ve been telling you, the castle is cursed.” Vlerion sounded indifferent and unfazed by the glow, but he turned to watch Kaylina. “Maybe you can figure it out while you’re spending the night.”

Did he sound amused? What a bastard.

A breeze swept through, a few snowflakes floating down, and an eerie moan came from the castle. The wind blowing across an opening or maybe those crenelations, Kaylina told herself.

“We will,” she said firmly. “A little magic might be a boon. It will add to the appeal of our establishment and help draw curious customers.”

“Nobody’s going to spend the night there.”

“We weren’t planning to start an inn.”

Of course, if the meadery and eating house did well, they could expand.

“Only foolish tourists would come this close to the castle.”

“And the rangers sent to guide them?”

“Per my captain’s orders. Rangers go where they must.”

A screech came from the tower window, and Kaylina and Frayvar jumped. Two huge bats flew out and sailed toward them, screeching again.

Kaylina stepped back, bumping into Vlerion this time, and irritation at herself flared. She fumbled for a sling round, not wanting to appear cowardly in front of him. But would the bats attack?

No, they flew low over their heads, but Crenoch let out a warning roar, and they flapped their dark wings to angle over the river and disappear into the night.

“Northern fang bats,” Vlerion said calmly. “They drink the blood of their prey.”

He hadn’t taken a step back or reached for his weapon.

“Are they edible?” Kaylina didn’t want him to think their presence concerned her. “We could put them on the menu.”

Frayvar blanched and rested a hand on his stomach. Maybe it took more than a special spice rub to make bats appetizing.

“I’ll head out tonight so I can reach Saybrook Manor by morning,” Vlerion said, not deigning to respond to her question. “Should you find your accommodations unpalatable, Headwaters Inn is two blocks to the east.”

Surprisingly, he rested a hand on Kaylina’s shoulder. Earlier, she hadn’t wanted him to touch her, but it was reassuring now, having him and his weapons at her side. She couldn’t bring herself to step away, even though his tone was smug, promising he expected to find them in that inn when he returned.

“That won’t be necessary,” Kaylina said, “but we’ll keep your recommendation in mind.”

“How much is a room there?” Frayvar asked wistfully, his eyes locked again on the glowing window. The bats’ departure hadn’t changed anything about it.

“Rangers don’t get charged, so I don’t know, but it’s not a ritzy area.”

Of course they didn’t get charged. The working-class owner probably had to suck up the expense of hosting them himself. No wonder people were rebelling here.

Hand still on Kaylina”s shoulder, Vlerion stepped closer to her, leaning his face toward hers.

In the still quiet of the night, she felt her heart speed up, even more than it had when the bats had flown out. He was more of a threat than they.

“I doubt he wants me to share this warning,” Vlerion said softly, the words only for her as his warm breath whispered against her ear, “but if you decide to leave the city, you’ll find no shipmasters in the harbor who will give you passage. Captain Targon is making sure of that.”

That did nothing to calm her racing heart.

“Why? Is that legal?”

“Targon can do whatever he wishes for the safety of the kingdom.”

“We’re not a threat.”

Vlerion snorted softly. Derisively? “No, but he wants to use you.”

Her earlier premonition returned, that Targon thought their future meadery and eating house might become a gathering place and that Kaylina could share information they overheard with the rangers. Or did the captain want her to do even more than that? To actively seek out information? To become the spy Vlerion had originally accused her of being? But for the other side?

“Why us? There have to be dozens of inns and eating houses in town.”

“There are, but they are long-established with the allegiances of the owners known. Certain groups eat in certain places.” That had to be his way of saying the nobles wouldn’t dine with commoners. “Should you succeed in opening something new, boundaries won’t yet be established. Nobody here knows you. You might be recruited by the Virts.” Vlerion sounded indifferent to the idea. Because it wasn’t his plan but his captain’s?

“Or by the nobles? As you’re attempting to do right now?” Kaylina asked.

The hand on her shoulder that had briefly been reassuring now felt like a shackle, binding her to him—to them. The rangers. The nobility. She’d dreamed of serving her drinks to the king and queen, but she’d never thought a mead maker would have to choose sides.

“I am merely giving you a warning.” Vlerion squeezed her shoulder before releasing it and stepping back. After glancing toward the window, he added, “Enjoy your night.”

He leaped onto Crenoch, the taybarri swishing his wide tail, and rode in the direction of the mountains, their snowy peaks stark and visible even by night.

“What did he say?” Frayvar asked.

“We can’t go home.”