Dyle hated taverns. Especially ones frequented by sailors. Loud and raucous, they were uncouth, uncivilised places. This one was particularly busy, filled with sailors from several recent arrivals in town. Some were bragging about sailing a group of Ninifins to the long-lost island of Scovese, the same place the Arnorin Royal Family had gone to.
Some of those Ninifins were in the tavern now, which was why Dyle was even here. Two were seated just a couple chairs away from him, both young women around eighteen or nineteen, both covered in ridiculous tattoos. Dyle had never desired tattoos beyond his tattoo of allegiance to the Servants, but he could understand why people might want a couple. He even tried to think of the scar on his cheek as a kind of tattoo to make himself hate it less—the damn thing still itched constantly. But to cover your entire body in them like these two seemed to have done was just ridiculous. Ninifins were such barbarians.
But Dyle was more interested in the person with them—the young Eloorin who had accompanied Princess Felitïa to Scovese.
So Felitïa had discovered the connection with Ninifin. Perhaps his own manoeuvring to get her friends there hadn’t been necessary. It certainly would have avoided working against Aylor’s people trying to stop them. But not only had he not expected Felitïa to find the connection on Scovese of all places, he also hadn’t expected them back so quickly. He had expected nine to ten months, eight at the very least. Yet it had only been five and she was already back on Arnorin soil. Maybe another month of journey to get to Ninifin? What had happened on Scovese to speed things along?
These three might provide him with some answers, so he nursed his drink and listened to the boy, Meleng, and his two young friends, all three unaware of who was sitting right next to them.
“Because I didn’t want to deal with a lord who treats his subjects so poorly,” the girl with the jaguar tattoos was saying. “I’m a warrior, not a diplomat. That was more Chica’s field. I’d probably lose my temper and try to smash his face in.” She grimaced at that. “Maybe not that last thing. Forget I said that.”
“I don’t follow you,” Meleng said. “I mean, about Lord Balmoth not treating his subjects well. You know they’re not slaves, right? I told you that.”
“Yes, of course I know they’re not slaves,” she responded, giving him a light push. “But I’m talking about the poverty and starvation, how Folith lords take all the crops that Eloorin slave to produce. Or not slave, I guess, but I mean... I’ve got it all wrong, haven’t I?”
“Maybe not all wrong,” Meleng said. “I don’t know a lot about Lothal or Lord Balmoth, but if it’s anything like Elooria or other places in northern Arnor, there is poverty and taxes can be high, but they don’t take everything. It’s bad, but not as bad as you think. Most of these sailors are Eloorin and they have money.”
The girl frowned. “I didn’t think of that. Wow, I’m not too bright, am I?”
Meleng shook his head. “No, it’s not that. You’re just misinformed and maybe not...uh...very observant.”
The other girl—with a sun tattoo on her cheek and serpent tattoos on her arms—laughed.
The jaguar girl took hold of Meleng’s arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. “You’re sweet for trying, but I’m really not very bright. You can admit it.”
“Honest,” Meleng said. “You’re not stupid. I am curious about something though.”
“What’s that?”
“You crossed through southern Arnor on your way to Scovese, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You were here in Lockanith, you travelled on the ship, and you never noticed people weren’t slaves?”
The girl buried her face against his chest and mumbled something unintelligible.
“To be fair,” the other girl said, “Nin-Zyannya, Fra-Cualli, and...” She hesitated and spat on the floor before continuing. “Ses-Tlacotl. They insisted we avoid interacting with Arnorins as much as possible. They made all the arrangements with Lord Balmoth for the ship. I don’t think any of us in the Youth Guard ever said two words to them. We all believed the same as Nin-Akna.”
Jaguar Girl looked up.
“Sorry to embarrass you,” Meleng said.
“It’s okay. I’ll live.”
“I hate to say this, Nin-Akna,” Serpent Girl said, “but this extra information means you really should have gone with Felitïa to see Lord Balmoth. You’re the most senior amongst us. Technically, you’re in line for the throne.”
“You’re in line for the throne?” Meleng said.
Jaguar Girl shrugged. “Yeah, like twentieth or something.”
“She’s fifteenth,” Serpent Girl said. “I only know that because I’m sixteenth. At any rate, Felitïa’s negotiating for Ninifin passage across these lands. There ought to be a Ninifin at that meeting.”
“I trust her to argue for us.”
“So do I,” Serpent Girl said. “But even so, there should be a Ninifin there. And I don’t trust Garet not to mess it all up.”
Garet? As in Prince Garet? He was here? That meant Quilla would be here too. Not good news.
Jaguar Girl chuckled. “That’s a fair point. Oh, you’re right. I should have gone, shouldn’t I?” She buried her face against Meleng’s chest again.
“Well, it’s too late now,” Meleng said and shifted positions, trying to extract his trapped arm. Once he had it free, he held it in the air for a few seconds before deciding to put it around her. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just a routine meeting. We’ll be off tomorrow and you can make sure you go to any future meetings with...um...anyone else we might need to have meetings with.”
Jaguar Girl just whined.
“Oh pull yourself together, Nin-Akna,” Serpent Girl snapped. “You know, this is the exact reason why I felt I was more qualified for your position than you. However, most of the time you’re pretty good at it. If you’d just work on those other times, you’d make a fine head of the Queen’s Guard one day. There, I complemented you. Happy?”
Dyle had heard enough. He doubted he would learn much more from these children. Still, he had learned a couple of interesting things. He downed the rest of his drink and stood up, bumping Meleng in the process.
Meleng and Jaguar girl looked up at him.
“Sorry. Wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“That’s okay,” Meleng said. “No harm done.”
Dyle continued on his way.
No harm done.
Not yet, at any rate.
Once outside, he made his way through the dock district and found where Sam and Vellon were waiting for him. Moustache Man was there, too. He was always there. Dyle rarely got any time away from him these days. It had been nearly a year since he’d shown up out of nowhere in Plavin-Tyl, and Dyle still didn’t know the man’s name. Maybe he should have stayed at the tavern and listened to more childish banter from Felitïa’s brats.
“Prince Garet’s here with Felitïa,” Dyle told them. “I’m guessing they’re trying to keep both his and Felitïa’s presence a secret from the masses as word is not spreading.”
“How’d you find out?” Vellon asked.
“Heard it from a couple of the Ninifins and that boy, Meleng.”
“I wonder if Omer knows,” Sam said. “He’s here in Lockanith. I spotted him a few minutes ago.”
Dyle sighed. “I suppose it’s not surprising, but I’d hoped he wouldn’t be here yet.”
“Who’s Omer?” their moustachioed companion asked.
Dyle smiled. “You don’t know?” It was rare the man didn’t know something, and Dyle liked to savour those rare moments.
“I would hardly ask if I did.”
“Nobody too important,” Dyle said.
“Tell me.”
Dyle chuckled. “He’s one of Aylor’s loyalists. Aylor somehow granted him super speed. He can cross a mile in a blink of an eye.”
“Ah,” the man said, stroking his long moustache. “The one the carcraime calls Mister Speedy.”
“She does? How do you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Dyle lowered his head and seethed. He hated when that man managed to turn one of those rare moments of ignorance around on Dyle’s head.
“Can we just kill ’em all?” Vellon asked.
Gods, Vellon was single-minded. Still, Dyle was glad of the topic change. “No, and you know it.”
“Yeah, but I figure eventually, you’ll change your mind,” Vellon said.
“Not until our friend here delivers on his promises. Then they’ll be fair game. Still, as I think about it, only Felitïa, Meleng, and Quilla are out of bounds. The others aren’t. The boy, Meleng, appears to have a girlfriend now. One of the Ninifins. She has a pair of jaguar tattoos covering her body. You can’t miss her. Kill her.”
Vellon grinned, displaying his sharpened teeth. “With pleasure.”
“They’re at a tavern. I forget the name.”
“No.”
Vellon sneered at Moustache Man. Dyle was tempted to as well, but Vellon’s was much more intimidating than his.
“Why?” Dyle asked.
“Because I don’t trust him to stay away from Felitïa or Meleng. Besides, the girl is a bad choice.”
“Why?” Dyle said again.
“Because if her relationship with the boy is as you say, her death will just rouse the Will-Breaker’s wrath.”
“That was kind of the point,” Dyle said.
“Then it was a bad point.”
Dyle turned away, shaking his head. “Fine. No killing today, Vellon.”
“Maybe I kill him,” Vellon said.
Dyle turned back to face them again. Vellon was bearing his teeth, mere inches from the man. In return, the man continued to stroke his moustache.
“You want to try?” Dyle said. “Be my guest. But you know you’ll lose.”
Vellon sneered a moment more, then turned away with a grunt. He stomped off into the streets.
“He better not try—” Moustache Man began.
“He won’t,” Dyle interrupted. “He knows how to obey orders.”
There would come a time when Vellon would disobey orders. Dyle was certain of that. He half hoped it would be today, although that was unlikely. It was also for the best. Dyle had put too much at stake to abandon the course now. Once that course was done, however, he would probably order Vellon to kill the man with the moustache. It would be a good way to study the man’s abilities, so Dyle could find a way to kill him himself.
Until then, he could only wait and be patient.
Just a few more months.
Then the time of glory would begin.
