Freya's Freedom (The Tower and the Eye Book 3) Page 2

  A mutter of unease rippled through the common room.

  “He’s a Shaman?” Leilian whispered.

  Lin heard her clearly and nodded.

  Master Groilin surveyed the faces in the room and took a deep breath.

  “Bring the gentleman in.”

  Several of the men stood up, hands on their swords; Andren snarled wordlessly and took a step forward.

  “I am a Master Tavern Keeper. It is against the creed of my profession to keep a potential customer in the chill of an autumn night when I have a room and food available.” Groilin glared at all the men who held their swords. “There will be no violence against my guests and any who do insult them so, will find themselves banned from the Golden Dice!”

  The men all sat down again, including the farmhand, who continued to stare angrily at Master Groilin.

  Groilin smiled at Lin.

  “Bring your companion within, my Lady.”

  Lin went to the door and opened it. Kraarz still sat on the bench, his hood pulled low over his eyes.

  “You can come in now.”

  The Urakh looked up at her.

  “You are sure that I am welcome?”

  “The Tavern Keeper has reassured me of that fact.” She placed one hand on his shoulder.

  “Then it would be rude of me to wait any longer.” Kraarz stood up and Lin moved back slightly, dropping her arm to allow the Shaman to enter.

  The common room was silent as Kraarz stepped in. He pulled down his hood and the tall red ponytail atop his head sprang upright, the black and white feathers that decorated it dropping on their leather thongs to trail down Kraarz’s shoulders.

  Lin shut the door behind them and followed Kraarz as he used his staff to find his way forward to where Groilin stood.

  “Master Groilin, allow me to introduce Kraarz Spiritcaller of the Northern Urakh Tribe. Kraarz, this is Master Groilin, the owner of the Golden Dice,” Lin said.

  Kraarz bowed low.

  “Master Groilin. We Urakhs never accept shelter without providing a useful guest gift.” When he rose, he held out a hand. In the greeny-grey scaled hand lay a tiny gold pot with an emerald encrusted lid. “I am afraid that this is a mere trifle in comparison with what I could once provide, but I am sure that you will find it useful.”

  Groilin took the pot.

  “A trifle? This is an exquisite work of art, Kraarz.” He turned it carefully

  “’Twas crafted by my cousin. The real value is not the gaudy gems and gold on the outside, but the powder within.” Kraarz grinned, showing rows of pointed teeth. “A small pinch in your ale start at brewing time will produce ferment so fine that even the Gods shall envy you.”

  “That is a princely gift indeed. I shall treasure the container and use the powder sparingly. Ale that can produce jealousy in the Gods may be a dangerous substance!” Groilin laughed.

  Lin frowned. Is he trying to upset Kraarz? She tensed, her hand rising to her belt and the sword that hung from it.

  The Urakh Shaman laid one hand on Lin’s arm.

  “Calm yourself, Lin. Master Groilin means what he says. This I know.”

  Lin dropped her hand to her side.

  “So, two rooms with meals?” Groilin bustled towards the bar. As he moved, several of men left the common room, muttering about getting up early. Andren was one of them, sliding past Lin and Kraarz with his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.

  “Andren! You didn’t pay for your drink,” Leilian called after him.

  “You can keep your stinking ale. I ain’t drinkin’ in a Tavern that harbours monsters under their roof,” Andren stopped to shout back.

  “Then, as there aren’t any more Taverns in this town, you had best move, Andren,” Groilin spun and snapped at the man. “For you are banned from the Golden Dice from this moment on.”

  Andren hawked and spat on the polished wood floor.

  “This Urakh will bring trouble upon us, you wait and see.”

  “Out!” Groilin roared.

  Andren left the tavern and slammed the door behind him. Groilin looked at Leilian.

  “How much does he owe, wife?”

  “His tab stands at four gold, Groilin,” the woman replied.

  The tavern keeper sighed.

  “I will have to visit his master in the morning to arrange a repayment schedule.”

  “’Tis a goodly sum for a farmhand,” Kraarz noted. “Here, I shall extend a magnanimous offer and pay his bill.” He put four large gold Elysian coins into Groilin’s hand.

  Groilin blinked at the coins.

  “These are Elysian Half-Marks. One of those be sufficient for that vagabond’s drinks.”

  “Then take the others to cover our stay under your roof,” Kraarz grinned.

  * * *

  The next morning after a leisurely bath, Freya dressed and went down to the common room with the intention of getting some breakfast. Porridge, honey and a little watered wine will do, I think.

  Vrenstalliren had insisted on a private dining room last night, but while Freya found him charming, it had been boring just listening to him boast about his exploits. Thank Ailliana and her stories that I am used to doing that sort of thing.

  The common room was empty and Freya slipped into a seat by the fire, relishing the heat from the glowing embers.

  “Ah, Lady Freya. You grace my common room with your presence. I hope you slept well.” Groilin appeared in the door from the kitchen.

  “I did, thank you.” Freya smiled as the Tavern Keeper approached.

  He sat down opposite her.

  “I hope I am not being forward, but is there any chance of you performing tonight?”

  Freya blinked in consternation for a moment; then she laughed.

  “You’ve seen me before haven’t you?”

  “It took me a while to recognise you, but before I married and gained this Tavern with my Mastery, I worked for Jetara as her assistant.” Groilin smiled wistfully, “When you danced, the whole room would watch.”

  “I remember you now; I used to call you Gremlin.” Freya giggled. “I was a mere child. Dancing was the only thing I could do.”

  Groilin laughed. “Is your favourite breakfast still porridge and honey?”

  Freya nodded. “That’s what I was going to order.”

  “Then I shall assemble it now.” He stood up.

  As Master Groilin went into the kitchen, Freya watched an odd couple of travellers enter the common room.

  One was a strange grey-green skinned creature with sharp peg teeth, a tall red ponytail on the top of his head and pure white eyes. Despite his drab, mud stained clothing and quiet demeanour, the creature made Freya shiver with fear.

  The other traveller, a woman, wore bright blue silk tunic with matching soft leather trousers. The tunic was embroidered with a silver wingless dragon that Freya recognised, but couldn’t place.

  Why does that woman’s clothing make me feel so sad? she wondered

  “Aha, Lady Freya. I trust you slept well.” Vrenstalliren’s voice boomed through the room and Freya plastered her face with a gentle smile.

  “I did, Sir Paladin, thank you.”

  The elven Paladin wore soft leather hunting garb and carried a longbow and quiver.

  “I decided that my armour was far too conspicuous to escort you properly within the town, so I have changed to something more appropriate.”

  He certainly looks far more handsome like this. Freya mused, as she looked him over.

  “Good idea, Sir Paladin. I’m going shopping after breakfast for something a bit more practical to wear.”

  He inclined his head and smiled.

  “I shall accompany you in that endeavour. Another night’s rest here, will suit my mounts perfectly and I have need to find you a mare.”

  “I would appreciate the help.” Freya smiled and batted her eyelashes. “I am a good horsewoman, but my experience of buying animals is not in league with my riding skills.”

  The
Paladin laughed and sat down as Groilin brought out Freya’s breakfast.

  “Did I hear you say that you needed a mount, Lady Freya?” the Tavern Keeper said as he placed the bowl down in front of her.

  Freya nodded as she scooped up a spoonful of honeyed porridge.

  “I need a horse that will be able to carry me steadily and for a goodly distance as I am meeting my brother in Jinra.”

  “I shall send a runner to the best Livery Stable in town. Merely mention my name and Master Hedlan shall provide all that you will need.” Master Groilin said. “Now Sir Paladin, what would you have for breakfast?”

  * * *

  Across the room, Kraarz smiled.

  “The lady you are seeking is with the elf.”

  Lin scanned the room, allowing her eyes to rest a moment or two longer on the exotic looking, dark haired woman beside the fire.

  “She has the correct features and colouring, Kraarz, but there is more to being Empress than that.”

  “Yes. We will have to accompany her on her journey. The spirits have told me as much.” The Urakh used his staff to attract the Tavern Keeper’s attention. “That will give you time to get to know her.”

  The Tavern Keeper came across to their table.

  “Good Morrow, honoured Guests. May I fulfil your breakfast requirements?”

  “Master Groilin, I would appreciate some milk and fruit if you will.” Kraarz said.

  Groilin nodded and looked at Lin.

  “Would you like anything, my Lady?”

  “I’ll have some tea, bread and honey, thank you.” She paused, “Tell me, Master Groilin; what do you know of the lady with the elven warrior?”

  “Lady Freya? She is from the city of Jira, our capital city.” Groilin frowned. “Why do you wish to know?”

  Lin sensed that he was reluctant to talk about her.

  “My Mistress sent me to find someone who appears very similar in looks to this lady. Would you introduce me? I mean no harm to her.”

  “I will inform Lady Freya of your request. It will be her decision,” Groilin said. “One of my girls will bring you your food.”

  * * *

  Having bought various items of clothing and other travel fripperies from the stalls in the Market, Freya and Vrenstalliren made their way to what Master Groilin had assured them was the finest Horse Dealer in the area.

  Vrenstalliren strode ahead of Freya, enumerating the many horse companions he’d had since he started riding.

  Freya followed him with only half a mind on his story. Why are that woman’s clothes so familiar to me? It’s as if I‘ve seen them before, but somewhere else. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of bright blue. I’m seeing things now. Concentrate, Freya.

  “Here we are!” Vrenstalliren stopped in front of a large barn with a sign bearing a rearing stallion on it.

  “That’s good.” Freya looked around. Is someone following me? I feel like I’m being watched. There were plenty of people around, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to her or the Paladin.

  “Welcome to The Black Stallion Livery Stables!” a voice boomed out, preceding a mountain of a man who strode out of the barn. “If you are in the market for a mount, you did come to the right place. I am Hedlan, the owner.”

  Vrenstalliren stepped forward.

  “I am Sir Vrenstalliren of Alethdan, Guardian of Lady Freya. We find ourselves in need of a mount for Lady Freya and…”

  “Yes, I did speak to Master Groilin’s runner. He apprised me of the Lady’s need,” Hedlan waved the elven Paladin silent. “I have four mounts out back that may suit her.”

  Vrenstalliren blinked and looked at Freya as the man beckoned them to follow.

  “The Tavern Keeper knows you?”

  Freya blushed.

  “Master Groilin knew me when I was a child, but I only realised the connection this morning.”

  Vrenstalliren frowned but said nothing as they followed Hedlan through the barn.

  Freya breathed in the sweet, pungent aroma of hay and horses, the air full of straw dust, turning the morning light into deep golden beams. The stables were always my favourite place, even before I went to Jira.

  At the other end of the barn, double doors opened out onto a sand floored ring. Four horses stood with their grooms; two bays, one albino and the other pure black. Freya felt a childlike surge of joy force its way up.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  Vrenstalliren made a show of walking around all four, examining their conformation, hooves and teeth.

  “They are adequate,” he sniffed.

  An audience had gathered around the ring and Freya spotted the woman in blue and the strange creature who accompanied her. He wore a brown hooded robe now, but her skin crawled at his look.

  To hide her unease, Freya approached the first bay. She looked him over.

  “He’s a gelding?”

  The groom nodded.

  Placing one hand on his withers, she vaulted onto the gelding’s back. After trotting him around the ring, she dismounted and shook her head.

  “He has an uncomfortable gait. Take a look at his offside fore, he was favouring it.”

  “Damn stablehands know nothing of such things.” Hedlan glared at the groom, who checked the horse’s leg and nodded back at his master. “Send for the Farrier immediately.” The groom acknowledged the order as he took the horse back into the barn

  She tried the second bay, a mare this time, who attempted to unseat her. Freya laughed and kept her place.

  “Spirited, but I don’t think we’d get on.” She dismounted and held her hand out to the horse. The mare snapped at her. “See? She can smell my Guardian’s stallion and considers me a threat to her chances.”

  Taking one long look at the albino, Freya shook her head.

  “Her breathing is laboured, just standing still. I think someone took you for a ride with this one, Hedlan.”

  Hedlan took a closer look at the mare and growled.

  “You do be right, Lady. I did not buy this one, she was a debt payment.”

  “She’s in foal though; you might make your money back,” Freya said, surprising herself. How did I know that?

  The Livery Owner ran his hand gently down the mare’s barrel.

  “Hmm. Take her to the breeding yard,” he said to the groom who had returned from returning the bay mare to her stall. “Be careful and do no spook her.”

  The groom took the mare away, talking quietly to her.

  Freya stepped up to the black. She looked him in the eye and smiled.

  The horse whickered softly and extended his nose to her. He stamped one hoof, the feathers that covered his hooves tickling Freya’s legs.

  “What’s his name?” she asked, stroking the soft nose.

  “He do be Korariettln. The fellow I bought him from claimed he had Elvish blood.”

  Vrenstalliren looked the black over more carefully.

  “He may be right. He has a similar conformation to Ohtár.”

  “Black Spring Magic.” Freya smiled. “I like it.” She mounted and took him in a circle around the ring. He’s gorgeous.

  “My Dam was Elvish. My Sire, an Each Usage from Galivor. I like you, can I come with you?” The horse asked her in a strong smooth voice that echoed through her mind.

  Freya jumped a little.

  “You can talk?” she whispered, not wanting to lose any face in front of the Horse Dealer.

  “Only to you. Everyone else around here is too closed minded, even that Elven Paladin.” Korariettln snorted. “Reply to me by thinking your words rather than speaking them.”

  Freya patted his neck and followed his instruction.

  “Then you shall come with me.” She dismounted gracefully. “I’ll take him. How much?”

  “He’s still a Stallion, Lady. It is unseemly for a maiden to ride a Stallion.” Vrenstalliren burst out.

  Freya turned on him.

  “You overstep your bounds, Sir Paladin. I shall ri
de any horse that I wish.” She looked at Hedlan. “How much?”

  “He’s yours. Master Groilin bade me make the bill out to him. I have his tack in the barn. Do you wish to ride him back to the Tavern?” Hedlan shrugged.

  Freya was taken aback. Groilin is paying him. I can’t accept a horse like this as a gift; but I also cannot refuse to take him. I’d better talk to Groilin.

  Vrenstalliren took advantage of her surprise.

  “Have him gelded first, my Lady. ’T’would be far more suitable a mount then.”

  Korariettln reared and bared his teeth at the elf.

  “If anyone tries to do that to me, I shall rip their throat out!”

  Freya laughed at the horse’s antics.

  “He can come with me as he is. Send his tack over with a groom.” She patted the black’s neck as he regained the ground. “I shall call him Korettln though.”

  She strode to the ring’s gate, Korettln following at her shoulder. A groom opened the gate and the two left the livery stable’s grounds, leaving everyone staring after her.

  * * *

  “She’s a feisty one, Lord.” The Jar chuckled. “Mayhap, she would make a better Queen than Mistress.”

  The Aracan Katuvana shrugged. He moved to the western windows and touched the symbol for the Lych Mistress.

  The Jar frowned. “Gmichi! Where are you?”

  The ancient Goblin appeared beside the Jar and bowed.

  “Don’t just stand there, fool. Our Lord needs my voice.”

  Gmichi picked the Jar up and carried it over to the western windows, depositing it on the pedestal there.

  The Aracan Katuvana flicked one finger towards the Goblin who flinched and bowed deeply, before leaving the room.

  “You wished my attention, most wonderful of Lords?” The Lych Mistress’s sultry tones washed over them and the Jar grinned at the Aracan’s sigh before it spoke.

  “How are Lady Erendell and Sir Grald doing in their training, Lady Lych?”

  “Erendell has excelled at Dark Mistress Training and would be a good choice for the Higher Caste. Not surprising considering her lineage. Sir Grald will make an excellent Dark Paladin.” The Lych Mistress laughed. “He is already surpassing many of the Drow candidates.”

  “We will need Sir Grald for a mission shortly. Is he ready?” The Jar asked as the Aracan Katuvana selected another symbol and brought up a training room where Grald fought against a Poison Demon.