Well of the Damned

Chapter 36





It was late morning when Gavin and his friends arrived in Ambryce. His latest search for Cirang placed her in the northern part of the city, not far from the Lordover Ambryce’s manor. They’d ridden as fast as they dared to, without risking injury to their horses, but all Gavin could think of was Cirang passing herself off as one of his First Royal Guards to get close to Feanna. His reason reminded him that Cirang had no business with her, aside from making her a tool to anger Gavin. She’d already done enough of that to chance further insult. His fear told him Feanna was in mortal danger, and Cirang had some unknown vendetta against her.

The city was muddier than the last time he’d visited, and some buildings were bloated from the rain. Some looked like they had burst open, leaving a pile of debris through which people sorted, looking for items worth saving. He’d not seen much of this in Tern, for the homes and shops were better constructed. It seemed likely that other cities were in similar condition, with families displaced. A new council to oversee reconstruction and temporary aid to the hapless residents would be formed as soon as he returned home.

As they rode through the streets, many people didn’t seem to notice them, perhaps because his arrival wasn’t expected. They walked, heads down and shoulders hunched, looking every bit as tired of the rain as he was.

Daia grinned as she looked around. “Hardly anyone recognizes you,” she said.

“Most o’Thendylath wasn’t at the coronation,” he replied, “so how would they know what the king looks like?”

“Oh, they’ve heard about your size, your scars, your eyes, your missing tooth. Don’t fool yourself. That sort of information gets around.”

Some people did look up at them as they rode through the streets, many with confusion on their faces, a few with disinterest, and even fewer with surprised recognition. When he turned to look behind them, he saw a small following had formed of eager people, calling to their neighbors to come quick. A girl ran up to one of the lordover’s patrolling armsmen and pointed at Gavin.

“Don’t stop,” Daia said. “We’ll be trapped in a crowd.”

The man-at-arms rode up at a canter and fell into step beside him. Under his rain cloak, he wore a stiff, tailored jacket and matching trousers, with black boots and gloves, and no external armor. Gavin hoped the lordover at least outfitted his guard with leather cuirasses worn beneath their jackets. “Your Majesty! It is you. Welcome to Ambryce, sire. I’ve been instructed to inform you a most urgent message has been left for you with the Captain of the Guard.”

“Who’s it from?” Gavin asked. Only one person knew he would be in Ambryce, but why would Cirang leave him a message? He kept riding, not wanting to be engulfed in a sea of people trying to touch him or shake his hand.

“I— I don’t know, my liege. I was only told to direct you to the captain. If you would allow me, I would be pleased— I mean proud to escort you to him.”

“How did you know King Gavin was coming to Ambryce?” Daia asked, as though snatching the words from his tongue.

“The captain told me.”

“What’s the message?” Gavin asked him.

“It’s sealed, my liege. My captain only instructed us to inform you of it and stress the urgency of it.”

“A stall tactic?” Daia asked.

“Maybe,” he said. Several scenarios ran through his mind, including one in which Cirang kidnapped the queen to hide away, gagged and bound. He would have to search for her while Cirang slipped away. “But she has my attention. Lead on, soldier.”

Calinor moved up beside him. “Gavin, I want to make arrangements for the burial o’Vandra and the two people Cirang killed, if that’s awright.”

“You’re just sending the city custodian to collect them, aren’t you? Not planning to go back yourself?” At Calinor’s nod, Gavin said, “Awright, meet us at the lordover’s when you’re done. I’ll need you with me.”

Calinor broke off from the group, and the guard moved ahead of them, shouting, “Make way!” at the citizens in the street, which enabled them to trot instead of walk.

“What about Cirang?” Daia said.

Though Ambryce wasn’t a small city, he could find her, and with his ability to find her, he was confident she would be dead before nightfall. “Distance is her ally. If she stays in the city, we’ll catch her. First, I want to know what she has to say.”

The guard led them to the city’s center where the lordover’s estate was. The construction quality of homes and buildings improved the closer they got. Three guards stood at the open gates, looking around. When they spotted him, one mounted his horse and galloped off towards the main manor, presumably to tell the lordover the king was here.

“His Royal Highness, King Gavin of Thendylath,” the escort said as Gavin approached the gates.

One armsman stepped forward, snapped his heels together and bowed crisply. “Welcome to Ambryce, Your Majesty. I’m Rikard Hasprun, Captain of the Guard at your command.” Like the others, he wore the gray and green colors of the lordover beneath his rain cloak. His jacket had three golden bands sewn onto the cuffs to mark his higher rank.

“You have a message for me?”

Rikard approached and offered a folded paper, sealed with blue wax. Gavin took it, ran a finger under its edge to break the seal, and unfolded it, expecting to see a blank piece of paper. Instead, he found a short message beautifully handwritten. His elementary reading skill had never bothered him when he was a warrant knight, but now that he was king, it was a source of embarrassment. He tried to read the note, but his untrained eye couldn’t make out the fancy, swirling letters. He’d never expected Cirang to be so highly literate, though he did remember Tyr as being well spoken, despite his exotic accent. After folding the paper, he passed it to Daia, pretending to have read it. He would ask her to read it to him once they were alone.

“My thanks, Rikard. I need you to send a message by bird to Edan Dawnpiper in Tern to let him know I’m here.”

“Yes, my liege.” The captain motioned for one of the other guards to see to the task. “Right away. I regret the Lordover Ambryce isn’t here to greet you personally, sire. He had left to conduct some business before your First Royal alerted us you were coming.”

Gavin dismissed the concern with a wave. He was glad he wouldn’t be subjected to the lordover’s false praise and apologies when he had important matters to handle. “Is my wife still in Ambryce?” he asked.

“Yes, my liege. She’s planning to take some of the orphan children to the market district today, but she hasn’t left yet. My men are out securing the streets.”

“The woman who left this message, did she ask to see the queen?”

“No, my liege. She simply asked that this message be given to you. She said it was quite urgent.”

“Take me to my wife.” He needed to make sure Cirang hadn’t somehow gotten to her, but more than that, he missed her. Since their secret wedding three months earlier, they hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours at a time. This morning marked the seventh day since he’d kissed her good-bye. Though they’d been arguing lately, he hoped she would welcome his visit.

And he wanted to see whether he could duplicate his earlier experience connecting with his unborn son.

“I’ll show you to the guesthouse,” Rikard said. Gavin gestured for him to lead the way.

The grounds weren’t as well manicured as those of the Lordover Tern, but they were far more attractive than any part of the city outside the walls. Flowers and short hedges lined many of the walkways, and all of the plants looked healthy and lush, well watered from the four weeks of rain. They first went to the stable, where the horses were given into the care of the jolly stable master. Rikard then escorted him across the courtyard.

The guesthouse was bigger than most people’s homes. Its exterior walls were natural gray brick, accented with lighter gray brick around the doorway. The walls on the inside were paneled with white wood, and the plush carpet covering the dark wood floor had an image of a mounted knight woven into it.

Feanna’s unofficial champion, Tennara, was standing in the foyer with a surprised expression when he, Daia and Brawna entered. She bowed to him and shook hands with the two women. “Welcome, Your Majesty. We weren’t expecting you.”

The foyer was only about eight feet square. There were three closed doors before him, and to the left was a sitting room not much larger.

Adro and Lilalian rose from their seats. On the table between them were two dice and two piles of silver coins. “King—” Adro started to say but stopped when Gavin put a finger to his lips.

“I want to surprise Feanna,” Gavin said quietly. “Which room is she in?”

“She’s in the one on the far right,” Tennara replied. “She’ll be glad to see you. We all are. What brings you to Ambryce?”

“Cirang,” Gavin said. “You haven’t seen her, have you?”

Tennara and Lilalian shook their heads, eyebrows raised.

Adro’s blond brow wrinkled. “Cirang? No, sire. Last I saw of her, she was in gaol. Did she escape?”

“It’s a long story,” Gavin said. “Be on the lookout for her, and be wary. She’s wearing Vandra’s mail shirt.”

Tennara tensed. “Vandra’s dead then.”

Daia piped up. “If she offers you anything to drink, don’t. Apprehend her immediately.”

“Or better yet,” Gavin said, “put your sword through her heart. Above all, don’t let her anywhere near my wife.”

“Of course,” Lilalian said. “Your will be done.”

“In fact, don’t let Feanna out o’your sight, even for a moment.”

Tennara nodded. “Your will be done.”

“Not even when she shits,” Gavin said, “though I prefer Lila or Tennara be on shit duty.” The two battlers shared a glance and chuckled. “That’s not a jest.”

“No, sire,” Lilalian said, still smiling. “I’ll take shit duty.”

“Awright then. Far right you said?”

All three battlers nodded, and Gavin went to the door. He leaned one ear towards it, but he heard no voices, no movement. Carefully, he pressed the thumb latch and hoped she hadn’t barred the door. It opened.

Dressed in a green gown, she sat at a small writing table, quill in hand, while her maid brushed her hair. The two women looked up in surprise when he entered.

“Gavin!” Feanna cried. She dropped the pen and ran to him.

“How now, sweethea—” he managed to say before her lips pressed against his and shut him up. His arms went around her automatically and held her tightly. Her warmth, her love, her intoxicating scent made his knees weaken. Her hands caressed his hair and neck while they kissed. Guess she’s not angry anymore, he thought. He heard the door close and the latch click.

They pulled back to look into each other’s eyes. “How are you, love?” he asked.

“I’m fine, really. A touch of the morning sickness, but it’s nothing a little finnara root doesn’t cure.”

“And our son? Have you felt him move?”

“Oh, no,” Feanna said. “No, it’s too early for that.”

“I want to feel him again.”

She giggled and took his hands, putting them on her belly. “Of course.”

He took a deep breath, scoffed at his own nervousness, and focused on her haze with his hidden eye. His hands warmed, his awareness expanded through her haze and through her body to touch his son. His boy was safe, growing, healthy. He hoped the baby’s haze would reach for him like it had before, but nothing happened. There would be time to bond with his son in the coming months. No need to force it. He pulled back and let out his breath.

“Did you feel him?”

He nodded. “He’s healthy. Seems bigger now.”

“They grow up so fast.” They both chuckled.

“How was your visit to the orphanage?”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. I’m so glad I came. It’s given me some ideas for improvements to the one in Tern. But Gavin, what are you doing in Ambryce?” she asked. “You didn’t come just to see me, did you?”

Damn, he thought. She had an uncanny way of phrasing questions that made any answer he gave the wrong one. He hoped this wasn’t the beginning of another argument. “Cirang escaped,” he said. “We tracked her to Ambryce. I had to make sure you’re awright.”

Feanna put a hand to her heart. The color drained from her face. “Cirang’s here? Oh, Gavin! How could you let that happen?”

His spine turned to steel. “Let it happen? That’s the question you ask me? Not ‘Who did she kill to make her escape?’ Awright, I suppose I own the blame for it, since I let her out o’gaol to chase after a book.”

She lay her hand over his thundering heart. “Oh! No, love, that’s not what I— I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cast blame. I just meant how did she get away? What book were you chasing?”

He took a deep breath to calm himself down, and then told her about the journal, the journey, and Cirang’s attack on Vandra that led to her escape. “I should’ve known she’d try something,” he said quietly. “She’d been cooperative, and I guess Vandra dropped her guard.”

“You took two battlers whose job was to ensure she wouldn’t escape, and yet she found a way.” Her brow creased with worry. “Does she know I’m here?”

“If she didn’t know before, surely she does now,” he said. “Even if she doesn’t notice the lordover’s entire garrison directing traffic and blocking off streets, I’m guessing the townsfolk haven’t quit talking about your visit since you got here.”

“Do you know why she came to Ambryce?”

“I guess because it was the nearest city.” He told Feanna a condensed version of their pursuit, the wellspring, and the murders of Vandra and the two people whose home she invaded. “If she’s smart, she’s already left. If she tries to hide in the city, I’ll find her. She wrote me a message, probably a taunt.” He opened the door, leaned out and beckoned Daia into the room.

Daia bowed to Feanna. “Your Majesty, it’s wonderful to see you looking so well.”

“And you, Daia,” Feanna replied.

“Now’s a good time to read me Cirang’s message,” Gavin said.

Still holding it in her hand, Daia unfolded it and began to read aloud.



To our illustrious king, Gavin Kinshield.



I’ve left a gift for you at the Gwanry Museum of History. By the time you receive this message, I will have left Ambryce. Once again, I’ve slipped through your thick, clumsy fingers, and this time for good. Don’t bother to look for me. You won’t find me.



Good-bye, Kinshield. I hope you find my gift illuminating.



My warmest regards,

Sithral Tyr



“She signed it Sithral Tyr?” he asked, snatching the message to examine the signature. “Bastard.”

“Who’s that?” Feanna asked.

“A Nilmarion man who was in league with Ravenkind,” Gavin said.

“Why would she sign a man’s name?”

“Daia killed him— sorry, love. It’s a story I got no time to tell right now.”

“Is she still in Ambryce?” Daia asked.

“Let me see.” He took a moment to send his hidden eye up through the building’s roof and over the city. At first, he saw no sign of her, but as he moved his mystic vision westward, he spotted her dark haze among the light ones in the city’s center. She was on the edge of a large gathering of citizens. If that was where Feanna was supposed to take the children, then her excursion was about to be canceled.

Gavin shook his head to dismiss the hidden eye and return to his normal consciousness. “Found her. She’s in the city.”

“Excellent,” Daia said. “We’ll catch her today, then.”

“I’m afraid I got to cancel your plans,” he said, taking Feanna’s hands. He hated disappointing her and the orphans, but Cirang was dangerous. There was no telling what she would do. “She’s in the crowd that’s gathering, waiting to see you.”

“Then you can send the lordover’s men to arrest her,” she said. “Once they have her, I can take the children—”

“She’ll sneak away as soon as she sees them closing in,” Gavin said. “I got to hunt her myself.”

Feanna shook her head. “You’re the king. You aren’t supposed to chase down malefactors. Let our battlers do it. Daia knows her. All the former Sisters do, and Adro does.”

“Don’t you see?” he asked. “If she gets away, I can track her down. She might run, but she can’t hide from me.”

Feanna squared her shoulders and gazed at him with such determination, she appeared to be looking at him from his own eye level instead of a foot lower. “Then there’s no reason to cancel my plans. If she’s in the crowd waiting for me, then you’ll stop her before she reaches me.”

The image of his first wife, pregnant with their second child, came to mind, her blood spurting from the knife wound in her neck. His failure as a husband and father was as real to him now as it was when he’d watched his family die five years earlier. His palms sweated, and his throat tightened. “No,” he said flatly. “I won’t dangle you in front of her like bait and endanger your life and the life o’my son.”

She went to the door and yanked it open. “Tennara, come in here, please.” The elder battler entered the room, followed by Adro, Lila and Brawna. “Do you remember what Cirang looks like?” Feanna asked. They affirmed they did. “Then there’s no problem. If they see her, they’ll apprehend her.”

“King Gavin instructed us not to leave your side,” Adro said, “not even to shit— begging your pardon for my language.”

Feanna put her hands on her hips. “You’d think I was the malefactor and not Cirang.”

Gavin went to her and tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed his hands away. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, “I’m just trying to keep you safe. That’s my first concern, always.”

“No, you’re trying to control me like you always do,” she said. “I won’t have it. I’m taking the children shopping. The lordover’s got every one of his guards on duty to keep me safe. Send Brawna and Daia with me if you want, while you sit around here twiddling your toes. I promised those children, and after what they’ve been through, the last thing they need is another adult letting them down. I won’t do it. If you want to keep me here, you’ll have to hold me down yourself.”

He couldn’t bring himself to chastise her in front of Daia and her own guard. She was still their queen, and he wouldn’t humiliate her, though as soon as he got her alone, he would redden her ears. All the tears and apologies in the world wouldn’t ease the scolding she was due. If he hadn’t married her, she’d still be a lonely widow struggling to put food on the table, and he would still be king. In defying him, she was overstepping her authority, and in front of her guards and his champion, no less. Using his own guilt against him was an added offense for which she would not be soon forgiven. Gavin gave her a look that promised the matter wasn’t settled, and then he told Tennara, “Cirang has some serragan powder. Be sure she doesn’t get close enough to use it.”

She bowed. “Your will be done.”

“Let’s go,” he said to Daia, and walked out, too angry to kiss his wife good-bye.