‘Because I overheard the innkeeper ask him if he was returning to the north, and the man said he was indeed heading home.’
James did not look pleased. ‘We must then return to Malac’s Cross.’
Abuk said, ‘I might be able to save you a journey, for a small fee.’
James asked, ‘How small?’
‘A dozen golden sovereigns, I think.’
‘Five, I think, and I forget your name when I speak to the King’s Inquisitor.’
‘Done,’ said Abuk.
James gave him the money and the man said, ‘Now that I recall, he did mention the town of Kenting Rush.’
James looked at Owyn, who nodded. ‘I know it. It’s north of my Uncle Corvallis’s home in Cavell Village.’
Abuk looked at Owyn. ‘Your uncle is the Baron Corvallis?’
Owyn said, ‘Yes, he is.’
‘I know him,’ said Abuk. ‘He’s a man of ill humour, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
Owyn grinned. ‘No one who knows him will argue that.’
‘If we are done?’ asked Abuk to James. James indicated they were, and the vivid green waggon started forward again.
After Abuk was safely away, James turned to Owyn. ‘What do you think? Malac’s Cross or north to Kenting Rush?’
Owyn said, ‘Kenting Rush is a small town, barely more than a dozen shops and inns. Mostly farmers and small estates in the area. There can’t be too many men matching the description of the man we seek in residence there.’
Gorath said, ‘Good, because time is growing short. It’s been more than a month since I left my homeland and Delekhan’s power grows while we seek out information. It would do us no good to discover his plans by witnessing them executed.’
‘A good point,’ said James, turning his horse around. ‘Let us head north.’ He urged his mount forward and set off at a brisk trot. A few minutes later they overtook and passed Abuk, and with a wave of farewell, continued down the road.
The passage between their encounter with Abuk and the turn-off to the City of Romney went without a hitch. They paused in Romney to change horses and see if things were calming down there.
Michael Waylander, Damon Reeves and Arle Steelsoul had heeded the Earl’s warning and appeared within days of the message being delivered. They were now locked in earnest negotiations with the other guild leaders to end the struggle between the rival guilds in the city and order was slowly returning to Romney.
The next morning, James, Gorath and Owyn departed on fresh horses, and hurried north through the rolling farmland that bordered the River Rom. The towns and villages along the river were undistinguished, much like the village of Sloop, bearing names like Greenland, Hobbs, Tuckney, Prank’s Stone and Farview. For days they rode, always alert, and by keeping a steady pace, they reached the area south of Cavell Village. Several times they had passed bands of armed men, but none had offered them challenge, and they arrived without incident.
Rounding a bend in the road, they crossed a small bridge that took them over a swift-running stream. James looked down and observed, ‘This is deep.’
Owyn said, ‘Deeper than it looks. More than one idiot’s been drowned trying to swim across. It’s a feeder to the River Rom, coming down from the mountains over there.’ He pointed to the west, where bluffs rose. ‘Let me show you something,’ he added as he turned his horse off the road.
They followed an old dirt roadway, grown over by grass in several places, obviously unused for a long time. Gorath said, ‘I see fresh tracks. Someone has ridden here lately.’
Owyn said, ‘Undoubtedly. I’ll show you why when we round this bend.’
They rode around a sharp turn, where a bluff rose up to a cliff-top overhead, and halted. Before them an impressive-looking waterfall thundered down from the cliffs above, exactly three hundred feet above. On both sides the gorge rose steeply, and was covered with thick forests.
‘Cavell Run,’ said Owyn.
‘What’s that?’ asked James.
‘It’s the name of the stream. It’s also what we call the tunnels under the old keep.’ He pointed to the top of the cliffs and by squinting James could make out the grey edifice that rested atop the cliffs.
‘How did you know about this?’
Owyn turned his horse back and said, ‘When I was a boy, we came here several times. I used to play with my cousin Ugyne in the run. They’re a huge set of tunnels and caves under the keep. Used for storage in ancient times, but mostly abandoned now.’ He pointed backwards as they left sight of the waterfall. ‘There’s even a bolt-hole behind the waterfall if you know where to look. Ugyne and I found it from the inside of the run when I was nine and she was eight. We stripped off and went swimming. We almost froze to death; the water is all snowmelt running down the ridges from the mountains above. Ugyne got a pretty heavy whipping from her father, too. My uncle has never curbed his temper as long as I’ve known him.
‘But it still didn’t stop Ugyne and me from playing up there.’
James asked, ‘How many know about the run?’
‘Most of the locals know there are tunnels under the old keep. A few might even suspect there’s a bolt-hole under the waterfall. But I doubt anyone outside the family, the old guard commander, and maybe one or two of the older servants, has any idea where it is. It’s pretty well hidden.’
They continued on toward Cavell Village, arriving at mid-afternoon. As they turned off the road and moved to within sight of the place, James said, ‘For a village it’s rather prosperous.’
Owyn laughed. ‘I guess. It was a village for a couple of hundred years, but became a busy farming centre about fifty years ago. Since the fire in the keep forced my uncle to move into the village about three years ago, all business is conducted down here. I think he and his household account for a third of the houses here in the village.’
‘Fire?’ asked Jimmy as they reached the outer buildings. ‘What was that?’
‘No one knows,’ said Owyn. ‘The story is my uncle was having some work done in one of the lower chambers and a fire broke out, working its way up through the building, gutting it and making it unsafe to live in. There had already been a collapse in the lower tunnels, where my uncle was expanding his wine cellar. My cousin Neville died in that collapse. He was a few years older than Ugyne and me. He was an odd boy; it always seemed to me his father didn’t care much for him. Ugyne was always Uncle Corvallis’s favourite.’ He was lost in memory for a moment, then returned to the present. ‘Anyway, that basement was just sealed off, with my cousin’s unclaimed body still under tons of rock.
‘The fire started not far from there, and the maid who is blamed for starting it died in the flames, so no one is quite sure how it began. It burned up from below, weakening timbers and causing floors and walls to collapse. Uncle’s been telling everyone he was going to repair everything and move back in some day, but so far we’ve seen little proof of it.’
They rode down the main street of the village, a broad thoroughfare that ended in a large square, dominated by a fountain and three other streets which ran off at odd angles to the one on which they rode. ‘That house over there,’ said Owyn, turning his horse so they could ride around the fountain. The afternoon market was underway and the buyers and sellers ignored the three riders for the most part, though one or two gave Gorath a second glance.
They reached the front of the Baron’s house and a stableboy ran over and said, ‘Master Owyn! It’s been years.’
Owyn smiled. ‘Hello, Tad. You’re caring for horses now?’
The boy, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Now that we have no proper stable the Baron’s keeping his guests’ mounts over at the inn.’ He pointed to an inn directly opposite the Baron’s house. It was dominated by a sign of a wood-duck’s head. ‘I’ll arrange rooms for you.’
Owyn smiled. ‘You’re telling me my uncle won’t be happy to see me and offer me a room?’
The boy nodded. ‘He’s not really happy to see anyone, these days, Master Owyn. If you were here alone, he might offer, but with your friends …?’ He smiled apologetically and said no more.
Owyn sent him off with the horses and instructions to get them one large room for the night.
They mounted steps to the large house. James glanced around and said, ‘This house dwarfs the rest in the village.’
Owyn smiled at the understatement. The rest of the village ranged from simple huts of wattle and daub with thatch to some two-storey wooden houses with small gardens. The inns were the only buildings that matched the Baron’s residence.
‘It used to be an inn, but fell on hard times. My uncle bought it and converted it to his own use. There is a stable in the rear, but it’s occupied by his company of personal guards.’ Lowering his voice, Owyn said, ‘Like many minor nobles, my uncle has more rank than money. The rents are modest, the taxes to the Duke of Cheam considerable, and my uncle has never been what you would call an enterprising man.’
They knocked upon the door. The door opened a crack. A serving woman of middle years peeked through and when she saw Gorath in his armour standing before her, her eyes widened and her complexion turned pale. ‘Hello, Miri,’ said Owyn, coming into her field of vision. ‘It’s all right. They’re with me.’
