By Moonrise Page 2

  Annoyed by his manners, she pulled herself free from the fat man’s grasp. His attitude towards her did nothing to sweeten her own disposition. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Even if I did, why should I tell you anything, when you refuse to tell me who you are?”

  He sighed, and made a bitter face. “Bhara, I am Bhagal Abranir, and I serve on the Council Vosidari. Is that sufficient?” Now his eyes glided from her head down to her toes. Without allowing her the time to reply, he continued. “I was told you were ill.” He leaned closer to her, until she could smell his sour breath. “You look well enough to me. Perhaps that was a ploy to get admitted to the keep? Hmm, I wonder.” He inhaled sharply through his nose as he tensed up the muscles in his neck. “Bhara, I demand you tell me your name, and what you were doing at the torrapon in the middle of the night. If you continue to refuse, I shall call the Senvosra, who shall not be nearly as patient.”

  “Fine. I don’t know why you keep saying ‘Bara’,” she said, repeating the name she heard him use. “My name’s Kate. Now if—”

  “Bhagal Abranir, is there a problem?” The voice, both authoritative and annoyed, came from behind her. As she spun around, Kate saw a dark-haired man, perhaps her senior by a decade, who bowed his head gracefully towards her. Like the first man, he was wearing tights, but he wore no tunic, his long linen shirt cinched with a leather belt. A silver medallion dangled from a thick chain at his neck, and a number of bright silver rings graced his fingers.

  “Nay, Aldrish, I was simply trying to learn who our mystery woman is. I must say, she has been quite rude so far.”

  “Indeed?” the newcomer queried. “What has she told you?”

  Abranir crossed his thick arms and glared at Kate. “Very little. There’s something rather odd about her, and in my opinion she should be turned over to the Senvosra at once.”

  The dark haired man nodded sharply, as if grasping the situation fully. “Well, Bhagal Abranir, your concern is duly noted, but also unnecessary. Bhara Kate is my guest, and I had been expecting her for some time.” He paused, and tipped his head slightly as he glanced in her direction. With hair the color of the darkest chocolate, a gracefully angular nose and chin, and eyes like a grackle—bold and slightly dangerous—it was impossible not to find him attractive, even in these circumstances. “As it turns out,” he continued, “Kate encountered some difficulty on her journey—but she is safe now, eh?”

  Abranir made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. “Aye, Aldrish, if you say so.” It was obvious he didn’t believe a word of it, but at the same time, he seemed unwilling to challenge the statement.

  “Indeed. I assure you, you need not trouble yourself with this matter any longer.”

  “Very well,” Abranir replied curtly, shaking his head. “I leave it to you to look after her. But do warn her to take more care in how she conducts herself next time. She needs to know her place here, and act accordingly.” With that, he stormed off, waving his hand over his shoulder to indicate his annoyance with the whole affair.

  Without acknowledging Abranir’s final comment, the new man regarded her carefully. “Well, Kate, I must say, I am very glad to see you are recovered,” he said in a low voice. “Would you care to join me for breakfast?” His abrasiveness of a moment ago when dealing with Abranir had entirely disappeared as he addressed her.

  Although confused before, now she was dumbfounded. Never had she felt less in control of her situation, and it made her both uneasy and annoyed that she couldn’t explain where she was or what was happening. Worst of all, she found herself entirely at the mercy of a complete stranger who, inexplicably, already knew her name. “Who are you?” she demanded.

  He blinked once. “Oh, my dear, I apologize. Of course you would not know who I am.” He gave his head a tiny shake, as if stopping his train of thought. “My name is Aldrish Rynar—though privately, you should call me Rynar—and I am pleased to be your host for your stay in Loraden.”

  “Aldrish?” she repeated the odd name as she gazed at the heavy medallion resting against his shirt. For silver, it practically sparkled like a diamond, and it was hard to avoid staring at it.

  “Aye. That is my title—it’s the ancient word for chancellor. I look after the Vosira’s—that is, the king’s—affairs, and advise him on most matters.”

  King? Chancellor? “What? Is this some sort of joke?”

  He regarded her with a serious expression. “Is that amusing to you?”

  “Uh—” she began, and started shaking her head. “Okay, fun’s over. What the hell’s going on?” Kate asked, her skepticism rising. “How do you know my name? Did someone put you up to this?”

  He had been staring at her, but with a quick jerk of his head he stopped himself and cast his gaze away. “Of course, it is my business to know everyone in the keep, but in fact, even though you’ve just arrived, you’ve been known to me for some time.” He leaned closer, and as if suggesting there were secrets better off not being spoken here, added, “as for the rest, there will be plenty of time for us to talk later.” Changing the subject rapidly, he asked, “are you hungry?”

  As soon as he asked the question her stomach rumbled. “Yeah, actually I am, but—” she found herself mentally tripping over what he had just said. “I don’t understand. You need to tell me where we are, and what’s going on. Why are we dressed like this?” The last thing she could remember was standing in the backyard of her mom’s house in the rain. How could she have ended up here? Was her crazy family behind all of this?

  “Ah, as I said, we shall have plenty of opportunities later for questions. For now, come along with me.” To emphasize his point, he pivoted on his heel and began walking rapidly down the long hallway, past fat candles flickering happily on their pedestals and long tapestries tracing out unknown tales in silver and bright colored threads. Not wanting to be left behind, she followed, though his pace forced her to jog to catch up to him.

  “Seriously. Where are we going?”

  “My quarters. I already have breakfast on its way.”

  He led her to a staircase of white marble, the steps cushioned by a runner of blue wool. Without looking behind him, he raced up a flight, leaving her to navigate the steps while holding the hem of her dress off the floor. It was easier said than done, because she no longer had her hands available to hold onto a banister or otherwise keep her balance, and there wasn’t a lot of light to help guide her. Meanwhile, once he reached the top step, her new acquaintance turned to wait for her, encouraging her pick up the pace.

  With a few steps to go, she heard a voice around the corner call out to him.

  “Aldrish—what are you doing here?” Approaching them was another heavy-set man, roughly the same age as Rynar, who was wearing an elaborate tunic of silver, blue and green brocade. He had dark hair pulled tightly back in a braid and a gleaming silver torc at his neck.

  Rynar snapped around to greet the newcomer. “Good morning, Vosira.” He quickly nodded towards Kate, who had finally reached the top step. “This is Bhara Kate. She arrived in Loraden last night.”

  Vosira—the king? Things were moving way too fast, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. Who were these people, and why were they wearing these costumes? Instead of responding to the new introduction, Kate found herself unintentionally staring at the man, unable to muster even a polite greeting, since she was preoccupied with trying to figure out if she had met him or the Rynar character before. She recalled that her Aunt Reyna had been involved in a local renaissance festival, and wondered if she had hired these men. Maybe they rented out the castle that the rich guy built at the edge of the city? It was just like her family to do something like this to help her deal with her grief.

  “Aye, is this true? Well, then, I am pleased to meet you, Bhara,” the Vosira said, with a twinkle in his eye, and not appearing to notice her hesitation. “Rynar, you were planning to bring this lovely woman to join us at breakfast this morning, were you not?”

 
“Ah, Vosira, Kate has just arrived, and I had hoped for a quiet meal—”

  “Nonsense!” As he raised his hands to smooth his hair, the Vosira smiled broadly at her, and she could see the dull yellow of his teeth, which contrasted with the thick, gleaming band of silver on his collarbone. “I won’t be able to survive a moment longer without her in my company. My dear, come with me.” He held out his hand, palm upwards.

  She rolled her eyes at the overacting. At the same time, unlike these men, she had no theatrical training and wasn’t sure what she was expected to do next. “I—uh…” she attempted, looking to Rynar for cues. In response, he nodded for her to accept, though the look in his eyes suggested this was the last thing he wanted. Confused, she stammered, “all right…Vosira,” and she smiled nervously, feeling incredibly self-conscious as she took his outstretched hand. Normally she wasn’t particularly shy, but given that these strangers had the advantage of knowing what was going on, she found it difficult to be herself.

  “Excellent. Come along with me. I would love to hear of your travels.” He had dropped her hand in favor of wrapping one arm around her back, with his hand resting suggestively on her hip. “And Rynar,” he said, looking disapprovingly at the man’s simple linen shirt, “do go and change into a proper tunic before joining us.”

  As her previous escort frowned and turned away to do as ordered, the Vosira pulled her a bit closer. “You are quite a delightful discovery. I anticipate the opportunity to get to know you better.”

  Even though she knew it was acting, his open advances unnerved Kate. Never one to seek out this kind of attention, she longed to shove him away, and under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have hesitated to do so. Expecting someone to jump out at any moment to tell her this was all a joke, she decided it was best to play along so she wouldn’t look as foolish later.

  To her relief, their destination was only a short distance away. He guided her towards an arched wooden door that was deeply-embossed with decorative carvings of flowers and trees. It was flanked by a pair of men wearing studded leather armor who were standing crisply at attention. That caused her to do a double-take. Armor? The prank was becoming more elaborate with each twist. She wasn’t able to give the costumes sufficient scrutiny, for with smooth and precise movements, one of the men reached for the iron handle and pulled open the door, ushering her and the man known as the Vosira through without forcing them to slow their pace. Just inside the doors was a large chamber with a sizable hearth, carved wooden chairs and a heavy table. They did not stop here, however, but headed towards a second door, and another pair of guards.

  This room was just as spacious, with curtains of deep blue wool and silver embroidery drawn across a window near the door. In the center of the room was a long table, which was dotted with a dozen sputtering candles, and at each setting, a wooden tray and silvery goblet. Along one wall was a sideboard displaying a row of ceramic bottles and a lush bouquet of roses.

  A number of strangers sat quietly at the table, all turning to stare at the Vosira and his new guest as they entered the room.

  Vosira Bedoric took his place at the head of the table, nodding with a polite smile to an attractive dark-haired woman who had looked up when he walked in, and then he absently waved to a servant to seat Kate in an empty chair near his own.

  As she sat down, she turned her attention to the woman the Vosira had greeted, the only other female in the room. This woman was close to Kate’s age, and wore an emerald velvet gown accented with bright silver jewelry and a sparkling diadem wrapped around her sable curls. The way she smiled back at him, Kate assumed she must be his wife, an insight reinforced when she leaned over to scold a rambunctious curly-haired boy of about five who bore unmistakable physical characteristics of both adults. Seeing how warmly the woman had greeted him, Kate was appalled by the Vosira’s earlier actions. Had he really flirted with her moments ago, with a wife such as this just down the hall?

  Then she reminded herself that this was all playacting—they each had their roles to perform, after all. That helped her relax a bit.

  In addition to the royal couple and their son, at the table were seated several men of varying ages, and all of them were glaring at her. This detail set her on edge, and she laughed nervously, unsure what to do next. Based on their curious glances to one another and then to the Vosira, each man clearly was expecting some sort of introduction or explanation for her presence, yet no one dared to ask for one. Instead, they began to discuss her arrival in murmured tones to each other, with not-so-subtle nods and gestures in her direction. Most unsettling, Abranir—the disagreeable man from a short time before—was one of them, and he shot a series of squinting glances between her and the Vosira, as if trying to decide whose idea it was for her to be there.

  “Okay, enough’s enough. You guys got me good. Who’s hiding the camera?”

  Several of the men frowned at her words, and their consternation increased. “Vosira, who is this woman? She speaks in riddles.” The question came from a man with thinning grey hair sitting directly across from her. “And why is she—”

  His question was interrupted by a quick breeze that caused the candles to flicker, as the door behind her opened again. She noticed with unexpected relief that Rynar had entered the room, now clad in a green woolen tunic with embroidery similar to the needlework on her own gown. She had only met the man moments before, but she already felt more at ease with him there. He had been both charming and kind, and he at least seemed to have some idea what was going on. He shot her a quick smile as he slid into the chair between her and the Vosira.

  “Ah, Aldrish Rynar, how good it is that you have chosen to join us, after allowing me to escort your lovely guest to breakfast,” Vosira Bedoric announced magnanimously as he nodded to his advisor. “Would you do us the honor of introducing your companion to everyone else?”

  “Aye, Aldrish, please do.” The sarcastic comment came from the man who had begun to speak a moment before. “After all, it is so unlike you to have a female guest.” Like the others, he had been staring intently at her from the moment she had entered the room, though he had done a poor job of pretending otherwise by sipping frequently from his goblet. As he spoke, she noticed that he had taken great care to comb his hair in such a way as to disguise a bald spot, but could not hide his half-rotten front tooth as easily.

  Smoothly, Rynar sidestepped the sarcastic comment by ignoring it entirely. “Vosira Bedoric and Bhavosa Bryll,” he said, addressing the couple at the head of the table, “this is Bhara Kate. She has traveled a great distance to visit us, and is very new to our land and our customs. As she is my personal guest, I hope everyone will treat her accordingly.” He shot a withering glance at Abranir, the man who had first accosted her in the hallway, who narrowed his eyes and then sullenly nodded.

  Rynar then coasted into quick introductions of everyone else, for Kate’s benefit. After pointing out that the young boy was Ruill, the Charvos, which, as he explained meant ‘heir’, he then directed his attention to the weasel of a man across from them. “The man who kindly keeps track of my social life,” he said, his own sarcasm oozing from every word, “is Bhagal Tashin.” Without pausing to give the man a chance at rebuttal, Rynar then reminded her that the man beside him was Bhagal Abranir. After skipping an empty chair, there was a man her own age whose thick, curly brown hair was pulled tightly from his square face; this man Rynar introduced as Bhagal Pyrsac. The elderly man to her left with a shock of white hair sprouting from his scalp was Bhagal Jamra, who smiled and nodded as his name was mentioned, though he continued to look straight ahead rather than turn to her; beside him, a hulk of a man with a scraggly beard was Castellan Solerav, and finally, seated near the end of the table and apart from the others, was Bhagal Koldren, a man in his fifties with thick, wavy hair peppered with silver, and whose face was marred by an old but still very obvious scar that ran from his upper lip straight down to his chin. The rest of the chairs stood empty, and already feeling ov
erwhelmed by the small group, she silently hoped that no additional people would show up.

  Once the introductions were complete, Tashin immediately spoke up. In a sugary voice, he asked, “so Bhara, you are not from Sarducia?”

  “That’s right. I’m from Texas,” she rebounded, with equally false sweetness. None of her instincts suggested this was a man she could grow to like. He didn’t even look friendly, with bony cheeks protruding from his narrow face, and thin pale lips.

  “Never heard of it. How did you come to be here?”

  “It was a bit of a surprise, actually.” She felt her confidence slowly return. Just keep playing along, she told herself, and it will all be fine.

  “That is an odd answer.”

  She shrugged. “So we’re even. This is an odd place,” she replied with a smirk. Nothing like a sparring partner to bring out the best in her personality, she acknowledged to herself as she fought back the urge to laugh.

  “Never mind him,” Pyrsac said, with a genuine smile and nod of his head. His facial features were plain, but his eyes were a startlingly bright blue, and his beard was short and neatly trimmed. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Bhara Kate.”

  Jamra then, cocking his head, leaned in her direction. “Aye, good morning to you, Bhara, and welcome to Sarducia,” he said, his voice pleasant and friendly. As she turned towards him, she discovered his eyes were clouded over with a milky film. No wonder he had not turned to look at her when Rynar introduced him. “I hope you are enjoying your visit?” he asked, his words suggesting genuine interest even as his eyes stared blankly over her shoulder.