Heirs of Prophecy Page 6

  Throll returned just as they finished. He invited Dad to join him in the back yard so he could show him around the grounds. Gwen then took Mom by the hand.

  “If you don’t mind, Aubrey, I could use a little help finishing up with the roast.”

  Mom smiled uneasily.

  Sloane took a seat at the table and gestured for Ryan and Aaron to join her. Then she whispered, “Your mother isn’t used to the kitchen, is she?”

  Aaron shook his head and smiled.

  “My father told me that your family isn’t from Trimoria,” Sloane said. “Don’t worry—he told me I’m not to tell anyone, but… Do you mind if I ask you some questions about it?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Ryan said. “As long as we keep it a secret.”

  “I guess… where exactly are you from? I’ve never heard your particular accent before.”

  “We’re from, uh… Benson,” Ryan said. Of course, the truth was they’d spent less than a day in Benson, Arizona, but that was the name Throll had latched on to, so he figured it was better not to confuse matters.

  “Yeah,” said Aaron. “We don’t even know how we got here. Or where here is, to be honest. I’m kind of surprised you guys even speak our language.”

  Ryan frowned. Aaron had a point. If this was a totally different world, which it sure seemed to be, shouldn’t it have a totally different set of languages?

  “Well don’t worry,” Sloane said. “Father is letting me off my chores tomorrow so I can take you through town and teach you how we do things around here.”

  “When do you go to school?” Ryan asked.

  “School?” Sloane said. “You mean when do I apprentice? Wow… you boys really aren’t from around here. Apprenticeships aren’t for girls. Girls help their mothers with chores. They learn how to take care of the house and farm, and how to be good mothers.”

  “Somehow I think Mom is going to find that situation… less than thrilling,” Ryan said with a laugh.

  He found himself feeling relaxed around Sloane. She was like any other fourteen-year-old—just from another place. A very different place.

  “Where do you learn how to read and do math and all that?” Aaron asked Sloane.

  “I don’t,” Sloane said, sounding almost embarrassed. “Most people don’t know their letters,” she added defensively. “But my father can read, and he used to read stories to me when I was younger, and he would show me the letters as he read. So I remember a little bit. Why? Do you read?”

  “Yes,” said Aaron. “We both do.”

  Sloane looked further abashed. Perhaps this was a touchy subject. But Aaron must not have seen it, because he pressed.

  “And what about math?” he asked. “Do you… do you know numbers?”

  Sloane furrowed her brow. “Do you mean like, if I sell a hundred eggs at the market for a copper piece each, how many silver pieces or gold pieces is that?”

  Aaron nodded. “That’s one kind of math, yes.”

  “Then yes. I do that kind of thing every time I go to the market.”

  Ryan smiled. “I think your kind of math is a lot more practical than the stuff they make me learn.”

  Sloane rewarded him with a glowing smile.

  They talked for a bit more before Gwen and Aubrey set out large platters of food and the parents converged on the dining table.

  When everyone was seated, Aaron said, “Can I say something before dinner?”

  “Of course,” replied Gwen and Throll in unison.

  Aaron actually stood, and Ryan braced himself for what he feared would be an embarrassing moment.

  “I would like to thank Throll for finding my family and bringing us here,” Aaron said. “I also want to thank you, Mrs. Lancaster.”

  “Call me Gwen,” she said.

  Aaron nodded. “I want to thank you, Gwen, and you Sloane, and you again, Throll, for inviting us into your home and sharing this nice dinner with us in this wonderful house. I won’t ever forget it.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Ryan added, giving everyone an embarrassed smile. Aaron had actually done really well.

  Mom smiled proudly at them both, and Ryan noticed tears welling up in Gwen’s eyes. Sloane gave Ryan a hug, which was definitely less weird this time, then scurried around the table and gave Aaron one too. “You’re always welcome here!”

  Throll cleared his throat. “Young Aaron, you and your family are very welcome. Think nothing of it. And now…” He grinned. “Let’s eat!”

  After dinner, Ryan felt exhausted. Everyone had eaten and drunk their fill. Even Silver had dined on the haunch of some large animal—probably the best meal of his life, and certainly the largest.

  Ryan couldn’t manage to stifle a yawn, and Aaron was rubbing his eyes. Gwen clearly noticed.

  “We have a spare room for you boys to share,” she said. “Sloane, will you show them? Aubrey and Jared, I’ll lead you to your room.”

  Sloane grabbed both boys by the hand and led them to the far end of the first floor, with Silver padding along behind them. She opened a door to stairs leading down, grabbed a lantern, twisted its brass knob, and then pressed it down so that it clicked. The wick ignited, and the lantern gave off a yellow glow.

  “This way,” she said.

  They took the stairs down into a cold basement, and Ryan felt the warmth leeching from him. This was where they were sleeping?

  Sloane saw the expressions on the boys’ faces and laughed. “Don’t worry, you aren’t staying in the cold storage. Your room is just beyond.”

  The “cold storage” was heaped with barrels and sacks, and all manner of meat hung from the rafters. The latter was of special interest to Silver, but thankfully he limited his interest to sniffing at the air.

  They passed through the cold storage, walked down a short hallway, and then went through another door.

  “Here we are,” Sloane said cheerfully.

  There wasn’t much to the place. It was a plain room, stone walls, furnished only with a wooden-frame bed. But it was much warmer.

  “This is where I sleep when I get mad at Mom and want to be alone,” Sloane said. “It’s very comfortable. And if you get hungry, well, you saw all the food in cold storage. You’re welcome to help yourself.”

  Without warning, she hugged Ryan and Aaron in turn. She was clearly a hugger.

  “Get a good night’s sleep,” she said, leaving the lantern hanging from a hook on the wall. “I’ll wake you for breakfast. We usually eat right around sunup.” She left, closing the door behind her.

  The two brothers looked at each other.

  “Well,” said Aaron. “I guess we’re sharing a bed.”

  “Wonderful,” Ryan replied.

  Incident at the Market

  Both boys looked up at Sloane through bleary eyes. She looked like a smaller version of her mother, her hands on her narrow hips and her foot tapping against the stone floor impatiently.

  “Wh—what time is it?” Ryan groaned.

  Sloane shook her head incredulously. “It’s an hour past sunup, you lazy turkeys. I’ve been awake for almost two hours already. Come on, let’s go.”

  It was clear she had no intention of leaving. Unfortunately.

  Grudgingly, Ryan dragged himself to his feet. Aaron did the same. They were both still half-asleep as they climbed the stairs after their host.

  It wasn’t until they reached the kitchen that Ryan’s eyes opened all the way. “Mom?” he said. “What… what are you doing?”

  His mother and Gwen were already up, and both women were kneading at gobs of white dough.

  Mom laughed. “Gwen’s teaching me how to cook.”

  Ryan and Aaron exchanged an amused look.

  “I saw that,” Mom said. “I’m not too old to learn how to do these things. Now scoot over to the table and grab some food. Sloane is in charge of you boys today. Do what she tells you. She’s a smart girl. She’ll make sure you stay out of trouble.”

  Ryan and Aaron exchanged another look
, this one far less amused. But behind them, Ryan heard Sloane chuckling.

  As Sloane led them down a road toward the center of town, she announced their plans for the day. “We’ll start by buying a few things we’ll need for your dad’s smithy. We’re also low on chicken feed. Normally I’d just stop for the things we need, but Mother and Father have asked me to show you around the whole market, so we’ll explore every corner. It should be fun!”

  Her enthusiasm actually sounded sincere. Ryan didn’t share the feeling. He hated shopping.

  Sloane glanced back at Silver, who was obediently following on his leash. “It will be… interesting to go shopping with a swamp cat. We’ll certainly draw attention. But Father said it would be all right, so…” She seemed uncertain about that.

  Ryan remembered what Mom had said about not drawing attention. Perhaps they should have left the cat at the house. But it was too late now.

  “How do you buy things here?” Aaron asked. “Do you use money, or do you barter or something?”

  Sloane laughed. “Of course we use money.” She pulled a copper coin from a pouch on her belt and showed it to them. “And don’t worry, I know you don’t have any. Whatever we get, I’ll be paying.”

  Ryan thought that Sloane’s pouch wasn’t as heavy with coins as he would have imagined, considering the large purchases they were supposed to be making. “Are you sure you have enough?”

  “I’m sure.” She patted her pouch. “This is just for the chicken feed. For the smithy items, Father will make payment upon delivery. You didn’t think we were carrying everything back ourselves, did you? We didn’t even bring a horse.”

  Ryan had to admit, for a place that didn’t even have cars, these people weren’t as backward as he first assumed.

  As the three of them, plus Silver, entered the throng of the city’s central market, Sloane grabbed Ryan and Aaron by the arms and led them away from a merchant’s stall where three soldiers in black armor stood.

  “Avoid the men garbed in black,” she whispered.

  “Why?” Ryan whispered back. “Who are they?”

  “Azazel’s personal guard. They arrived several days ago and have been stopping people and asking all sorts of questions.”

  Ryan recalled what Throll had said about Azazel and magic. It now seemed to him that coming to the market had been a mistake, and he doubly regretted bringing Silver along. They hadn’t even changed into Trimorian clothing. Every head in the market turned their way. They couldn’t have drawn more attention if they had tried.

  But as Sloane dragged them ever deeper into the center of the market, Ryan felt his worries fade away. This place was alive with sights and smells and sounds. He breathed in the aromas of fresh-roasting nuts and pungent perfumes, and listened to the shrill cries of hawkers attracting business.

  “Spices for sale! Spices that will tantalize the tongue while making your mate more open to suggestions!”

  “Silken cloth for your lady friend, young man? This cloth was weaved on the loom of the gods.”

  As they walked, Aaron’s eye was rather obviously drawn to a stall where a vendor was selling various implements of metal, including swords and daggers. The vendor noticed, and seized the chance to draw in a potential buyer.

  “Welcome, young sir!” he said grandly. “I can see a fine strapping lad such as yourself would be interested in one of my deadly blades, all of which are guaranteed to draw first blood in any contest.”

  Before Aaron could respond, Sloane stepped in front of him. “My friend’s father is the new blacksmith of Aubgherle. His craft far surpasses anything you have here. My friend was simply noting how your poor inventory suggests a certain desperation for quality weaponry.”

  The merchant looked at Sloane appraisingly. “Does your friend not have a tongue with which he can speak for himself? Or does he need a wisp of a girl to barter for him?”

  Ryan drew a breath to speak out in Sloane’s defense, but Sloane quieted him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “My father asked that I represent him in his stead,” Sloane said tersely. “And since my father is responsible for the new blacksmith until he is settled, all deals go through him. Which means that, today, they go through me. I say that your inventory is subpar and not worthy of consideration.”

  Ryan felt his mouth fall open, and quickly closed it. He’d never heard someone their age speak in that manner to an adult before. Perhaps he and Aaron really would be better served by keeping silent and letting Sloane do all the talking.

  “Very well, young lady,” the merchant said. “Who is your father, that I might properly deal with the blacksmith?”

  Sloane puffed up her chest. “My father is Throll Lancaster, Ranger of Aubgherle and Protector-General of Trimoria.”

  The merchant’s eyes widened. “I-I’m sorry for my rudeness, young lady,” he stammered. “I didn’t realize.” He bowed to Aaron. “I also apologize to you, young sir. I will see about getting in touch with the Protector-General in the hopes of earning the business of the new master smith.”

  Without another word, Sloane turned and led her companions down the street.

  “Wow, Sloane, that was impressive,” Ryan said as he struggled to push through the crowds to keep up with her.

  Sloane shook her head. “It was nothing. That merchant must be new to Aubgherle. Anyone who’s been here for any length of time knows me on sight, and knows who my father is.”

  “I know he’s the Protector,” Ryan said, “but what exactly does that mean?”

  “It means Father is responsible for the safety of the entire city. To become a Protector, you must lead many ranger expeditions. You must prove yourself to be a man of unwavering courage and skill with the bow and sword. In all of Trimoria, there are maybe twenty men who can call themselves Protector.”

  “Wow,” Aaron said.

  “You called him ‘Protector-General,’” Ryan said. “Does that mean something different?”

  Sloane’s eyes twinkled. “It means that of all the Protectors in Trimoria, my father was chosen by his peers as their leader.”

  “You mean Throll leads all the rangers in all of Trimoria?”

  Sloane nodded, with obvious pride. But before Ryan could ask any more questions, she pointed to an open-walled tent ahead. “Here we are. This merchant should already have Father’s order. We need only confirm it.”

  At the front of the tent stood a table holding a collection of metalworking tools—tongs, hammers, and other items that Ryan could make no sense of. At the back, mounds of some charcoal-like substance were piled up.

  Sloane walked up to the merchant, a wizened old man with a long white beard. “My good Ezra,” she said cheerfully. “Did you receive my father’s order for the new smithy?”

  The merchant squinted at Sloane before brightening in recognition. “Ah, Sloane, my dear!” he bellowed. “Yes, yes, I received the good Protector’s order this morning, and as it happens, I either have everything in stock, or I have identified where I can purchase it. I have my lads arranging everything for shipment as we—” His gaze landed on Silver, and he stopped in mid-sentence as he squinted once more. “Oh my. I had heard a tale earlier today about someone with a tame swamp cat, but I didn’t believe it until now.”

  “This is Silver,” Sloane said. “He belongs to my friends.”

  Aaron stepped forward. “My name is Aaron, and this is my brother, Ryan. It’s good to meet you.”

  “Very nice to meet you young men, as well.”

  Ezra looked at Silver once more, shaking his head in wonder, before turning back to Sloane.

  “Sloane, my dear, tell your father that I’m afraid the iron ore was a bit pricy to obtain in the quantity he requested. But I was able to negotiate a great price on a new bellows for the furnace, and I had most of the forms your father asked for in stock already, so that mostly offset the extra cost. Of course I will include a full accounting along with the shipment.”

  Sloane smiled at the old man
. “I’m sure Father will be satisfied. You’ve always been very fair to him, and he appreciates it.”

  Ezra’s expression turned serious. “Neither I nor my son will ever be able to fully repay your father for his service to my family. It’s the least I can do.”

  Sloane gave Ezra a hug, then they waved their farewells and moved on.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Aaron said after they were out of earshot, “what did your father do that made that old man so indebted to him?”

  Sloane shrugged. “There are lots of people who owe my father blood debts, even though my father would never leverage them. In this case, my father rescued Ezra’s son from some very bad men. It was years ago, so that’s all I know. Neither Ezra nor his son will talk about it, but they’re honorable men and treat us like relatives.”

  At that moment a large boy stepped directly in their path, looking at Sloane with a leering grin. He had a mottled complexion and the scraggly beginnings of a beard, but more importantly he stood nearly six feet tall and probably weighed two hundred pounds, most of it muscle. A club hung from the belt at his waist.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks!” he said. “Who are your friends?” He gave Ryan a little shove.

  Silver let loose a low growl.

  The boy sneered. “You think some tame swamp kitten is going to scare me away?”

  “Just ignore him,” Sloane whispered. “He’s trouble.”

  She tried to walk past the boy, but again he stepped in front of her.

  “I don’t want to talk to you, Slug,” she hissed. “Get out of my way!”