Knight's Ransom (The First Argentines #1)

“And you do not know her name? She was from Occitania, though?”

“She spoke in Occitanian with an accent not from Pree, but . . . then again, you have a trace of accent yourself that is not from these parts. She said she’d gone to many sanctuaries seeking wisdom about how to know if she was one of the blessed. I will tell you what I told her. In all the stories, when one is blessed, they are given something from the Deep Fathoms. A treasured gift. Sometimes they’re given a choice of what to take, although the gifts are not always what they seem. Some are curses. King Andrew was given a sword and a scabbard. Yet the Wizr Myrddin told him the scabbard was more powerful than the sword.”

Ransom nodded, his attention riveted. “Where did you tell her to go?”

“There is a desert far to the east that separates us from the East Kingdoms. In the middle of the desert is an oasis called Chandleer. That is where I told the young woman to go. There is a fountain in the desert, a spring of pure water. That is why the caravans stop there. But it is a difficult journey. And dangerous.”

An itch had begun to quiver up Ransom’s spine upon hearing the man’s words. The words gave him a spark of hope. Something to focus on instead of hiding away. Perhaps the situation would improve if he left on this quest. Much could happen in two years. The furor might ebb; the truth might reveal itself.

“Did the young woman ever return?” Ransom asked.

The deconeus shook his head. “I never saw her again. Only the Fountain knows if she went on her quest.”

“Thank you, Deconeus. You have given me what I needed.”

“You will seek the oasis, then? That is your pilgrimage?”

“I believe so. May I borrow some parchment and ink? I need to pen a letter before I go. Is there a courier I can hire to send it?” He’d decided to write his warning to Devon before leaving. The letter might be read, but he was determined to plead his innocence and warn the king about the dangerous lady who was always lurking beyond sight. Especially since Noemie was perhaps aware of her.

The deconeus nodded grimly. “Of course. I’ll make the arrangements. But first I must ask you something. The records tell us that the Fountain-blessed glean strength from acts of self-discipline. They form habits, if you will, which strengthen their abilities. Because of their devotion to their craft, they are blessed with abilities beyond the ken of normal men and women. In the records, they call this magic. But it is more than superstition. They do not quit when challenges bar the way, and they are driven to feats that could be seen by some as truly miraculous. Have you experienced such as these before?”

Ransom had no hesitation. “Yes, Deconeus. Yes, I have.”

The deconeus pursed his lips. “Then I wish you the Lady’s favor on your journey. If you succeed, I would be most honored if you’d return and tell me more of what you faced. Two years may seem a lifetime to one so young as you.” A smile lifted his lips. “I just wish I had been brave enough to try it myself.”



Spending time with his family at the Heath had done Ransom some good. Yes, word had reached them before he did. But they hadn’t lost their good feelings for him, and when he explained the truth of what had happened, they were relieved to learn that his conduct had not been dishonorable.

His sister, Maeg, was a handsome young lady now, with a fair share of suitors, although she was still interested in one of the household knights. Marcus, his elder brother, had gained a lot of weight during his time overseeing the affairs of the castle. Since the Elder King preferred to hire mercenaries these days, many of the nobles had not kept up with their training. Sibyl, his mother, continued to pet Ransom’s hand while he ate or when he shared stories of his adventures. They all loved hearing his stories, especially the one about the tournament he’d won despite being nearly blinded by his helmet.

He’d only planned to spend a day at the Heath, but his family encouraged him to lengthen his stay, and their warmth convinced him to do so. He enjoyed walking with Maeg and discussing the affairs of the court with his brother. One afternoon, sitting by the hearth, his mother asked for his permission to send a letter to Lord Kinghorn informing him of the truth of the matter. But Ransom refused her.

“No, I sent one to Devon myself. I don’t think he’s ready to heed me, but I needed to warn him anyway. I fear he’s put himself in a dangerous situation. Perhaps things will change for the better while I’m away.”

He went on to ask if she would oversee his income from his properties in his absence, and she readily agreed. With tears in her eyes, she thanked him for his trust in her.

“I have means now,” he said, embracing her. “When I was young, you helped me find a position with Lord Kinghorn. I wouldn’t be the man I am today if you hadn’t sent me to him. I should like to help you in return. Can I help with Maeg’s dowry?”

His mother grinned at him, and he could tell the offer pleased her. “It would mean very much to us all. Thank you.” She squeezed his hands. “We’re blessed to have you.”

They made a feast for him on his final night staying with them. He’d been to feasts at Kingfountain and Pree, but this one was different. He didn’t feel like he needed to watch his back or be wary of anyone approaching him. His sister was quite a storyteller herself, and he enjoyed listening to her talk and even sing, which he responded to with enthusiastic applause. While he was with his family, he felt a gentle throbbing inside his empty well. Yes, he had been rejected by his master, but he could be loyal to his family. Perhaps that was enough.

It was near the end of the meal when a courier arrived. It was one of the Elder King’s heralds, and the sight of the man’s badge—the Silver Rose—caused a prick of envy in Ransom’s chest. He rose to greet the herald, but the man went directly to Marcus instead.