Well of the Damned

Chapter 9





When the clock in the temple tower struck twelve o’clock, the guards ushered the remaining petitioners out of the grand hall. As usual, many of them grumbled and complained about how long they’d been waiting, especially those standing near the front of the line. Gavin felt bad, but he would be back here again tomorrow. In the meantime, he had plans to make and problems to ponder, not the least of which was how to deal with the rain, but knowing why Crigoth Sevae had summoned Ritol to kill King Arek was the question that kept him awake well into the mirknight. Maybe one of the books they’d salvaged in the wrecked palace would give him a clue.

The last petitioner had come to complain that the Lordover Tern’s waste collection wagon only visited some areas every other day, and when the wagon was fully loaded, the driver accepted no more. People were throwing the contents of their chamber pots into the street. Even though the rain cleaned it away, the excrement was being washed into the River Athra. People living upstream were soiling the water for those downstream. “That’s people’s drinkin’ water,” he said, stabbing the table with his gnarled forefinger. “It ain’t right.”

“I’ll look into it,” Gavin said. “Thanks for bringing it to me.”

Edan and Daia began to gather up the papers and books and writing supplies. “It’s been a productive day,” Daia said. “You heard eighty-seven people today. That’s three more than yesterday.”

A blonde-haired woman, comely with large blue eyes, walked slowly towards the table, her hands on the shoulders of a dark-haired girl she steered in front of her. The woman held Gavin’s eyes with a curious expression of recognition mixed with doubt and confusion. One of the guards tried to get the woman’s attention and direct her outside with the others, but she seemed not to notice. “You’re King Gavin? Gavin Kinshield?”

“I am,” he answered. Looking at the child, he was struck by her eyes – dark-brown and deeply set, hooded beneath a prominent brow. If he didn’t know better, he’d have taken her for a Kinshield.

“The king sees no more petitioners after noon,” the guard said as she approached. She started to take the woman by the arm, but Gavin stopped her with a raised hand.

“It’s awright. I’ll see one more.” To the woman, he said, “How can I help you?”

“I— I’m confused. My daughter’s father told me his name is Gavin Kinshield. You look like him, but you aren’t him. He has no scars on his face, he has all his teeth in front, and I’m fairly certain he’s older than you. Not by much, I’d imagine, but a few years. ”

He looked the child over again more carefully. He guessed her to be about eight years old. Her eyes looked strikingly similar to his own, as did the shape of her jaw and the gentle waves in her dark hair, though he and his brother had both been blond until about ten years of age. Even her mouth resembled his, but she couldn’t be his bastard. She was too old to have been conceived in the five years since Talisha’s death, and from the day he’d met Talisha until the day she died, he’d been with no one else. Unless this girl was much older than she looked and small for her age, she simply couldn’t be his child. “Well, I’m Gavin Kinshield, but she can’t be my daughter. Besides, I’d remember you.”

“For eight years, her father’s been giving me a monthly stipend to feed and clothe my girl. Three months ago, the money stopped, and no word followed.”

Gavin broke into a sweat. The man she described, a buck who looked like him and who had disappeared three months earlier, had to be Rogan.

“I came here thinkin’ I’d find him. Have you a brother, perchance?”

Edan and Daia had stopped what they were doing and were staring at the girl. Edan cleared his throat. “Perhaps Daia and I should take these things to your library and meet you there later.”

Gavin nodded absently, dumbfounded. Rogan had a bastard daughter about the same age as GJ. Could it be true?

Daia shot Edan a glance and shook her head desperately, but he gripped her arm and ushered her away. She whispered fiercely about needing to stay to hear what this woman had to say, but Edan shushed her and quickened his pace. Their footsteps faded towards the back of the room.

When the back door opened and shut again, Gavin walked around the table and squatted down before the child. Her eyes were like his own, like Rogan’s. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Keturah,” she replied in a soft voice. “Kinshield. Please don’t hate me.” Keturah started to cry.

Gavin’s heart sputtered. “Why would I hate you? You’re just a little girl. You’ve done me no wrong.”

She bowed her head. “My papa’s ashamed o’me. That’s why he left.”

Gavin put his hands on the girl’s shoulders. “It’s hard sometimes to think there might be other reasons for a man’s behavior when you feel hurt, but let’s see if we can untie the mystery o’who he is and what’s happened to him. There’s probably a good explanation for why he disappeared.” He looked up at Keturah’s mother as he stood. “What’s your name, my lady?”

“It’s Nicholia Sparrohs, my liege,” she said with a curtsy.

Gavin sat one cheek of his arse on the table. “Nicholia, tell me what you know about this man. When was the last time you saw him?”

“It must’ve been the first of Junis, around noon. He was regular, like the sun rising in the east, always coming the first day of the month. He would wrap coins and some small gift for Keturah in a piece of cloth and leave it under a loose rock near my doorstep. Mostly he’d knock and then leave before I could get to the door, but I recognized him from behind as he rode away. Now and then he would wait until I answered and ask how Keturah fared. He always had a kind word for her, though I could tell it pained him to see her.”

“Where does he live?”

She wrung her hands. “I don’t know. He said he’s a warrant knight and travels all over Thendylath, but I seen him taking a bunch of arrows into the bowyer’s shop in Saliria once or twice, so I think he might also be a fletcher. Over the years I grew to suspect he had another family. A couple of years ago, I asked him, and he admitted he has a wife and three sons.”

A fletcher in Saliria who looked like Gavin and had three sons could only be one man. Rogan, what the hell did you do? He rubbed his temples with the thumb and middle finger of one hand. This girl was his niece. The question was: what was he going to do about it? What would a king do?

“Is he a relative?” Nicholia asked. “You look like him. Brother perhaps?”

Gavin patted Keturah’s shoulder. “Wait here for a moment. I need a word with your mama.” He gestured for Nicholia to walk with him. When they were out of the girl’s earshot, he said, “Tell me how you met.”

“We met in the Old Oak Tavern in Saliria. I work there as a barmaid, and it was slow that night. He seemed angry or upset about something, and so I flirted a little to try to lift his spirits. He was such a nice man, handsome. Anyway, he flirted back, and I shared a drink with him. The next thing we knew, we were in the back storeroom…” A flush rose in her cheeks. “It was only one time, but he came back to the tavern several times over the next few weeks to apologize. One day, he noticed my belly was growing. I was betrothed at the time, but...” She hung her head. “...he broke it off, with good reason. He didn’t want to raise another man’s baby.”

Gavin nodded pensively. He didn’t know the details of Rogan’s relationship with Liera, but he remembered there was a time when the two weren’t getting along as well as usual. When he’d gone to see his newborn nephew, GJ, the two hardly spoke to each other. Did Liera know about her husband’s infidelity and the resulting child?

“I don’t want to make trouble for him with his family,” Nicholia said. “I never meant to come between them. I’m fond of him — I won’t lie. He’s the father of my child. We need to know what’s become of him. What’s his true name?”

He looked into Nicholia’s eyes. “The man you’re describing sounds like my brother, Rogan. He died three months ago.”

She slapped a hand over her mouth, and her eyes welled with tears. “By the Savior! How did it happen?”

He knew she would ask this, but the words caught in his throat like a piece of meat he couldn’t swallow. The image of his brother’s severed head flared in his mind as it had in nightmares over the last three months. She didn’t need the details, and he didn’t want to speak of it. “He was murdered.”

Nicholia burst into tears. Keturah ran to her and threw her arms around her mother’s waist. “Mama, what’s wrong? Is Papa dead? Is that why he quit coming?”

“Yeh, love. That’s why. May the Savior welcome him into His loving embrace,” she said. The words came out ragged and soft. “Have you caught the killer?”

“The killer was slain. Let’s leave it at that,” Gavin said. If Keturah wanted to know more when she was older, he would tell her. For now, this was enough. “Sorry I had to give you the bad news. Keturah, he was a good man and would’ve made sure you and your mama got what you need.” To Nicholia, he said, “You don’t have to worry about money. Tell me how much he was giving you, and I’ll send triple.”

“Bless your generous soul,” she said.

“Do we still have to live at grandmother’s house?” Keturah asked her mother.

“Hush now,” Nicholia said.

Gavin thought this day couldn’t get any worse, but he had a feeling it was about to. “Is your home in Saliria flooded?”

Nicholia nodded. “My mother’s home in Tern hasn’t flooded yet. We’ll be fine there for a time.”

He exhaled in relief. The last thing he needed was to have to explain to Liera that Rogan’s bastard daughter and the woman who’d borne her were staying as guests in the palace. “If that changes, I want to know about it.”