Ch. 188 The Call from the Northern Fork

Chapter 188: The Call from the Northern Fork

Hanne called me while I was discussing roof tiles.

Not aloud.

Not from the passage.

Her voice reached beneath Eleanor’s explanation of drainage angles and struck the edge of my attention with remarkable force.

Uriah Grey.

I dropped the tile sample.

It landed on my boot.

Eleanor looked down.

“That one was already cracked.”

If this works, your guards are bleeding.

I stood too quickly.

The workshop shifted around me.

Aurelia’s lessons returned in fragments.

The room.

The floor.

Eleanor.

The broken tile.

Myself.

I let Hanne’s call reach the boundary without following it.

“I hear you,” I said.

Eleanor stared.

“Who?”

“The northern party.”

I opened the connection by the smallest amount I could manage.

“Hanne. Where are you?”

Her answer arrived unevenly.

Fork. Men on the road. Want the papers.

I could not see her.

I felt rain.

A horse pulling hard against its reins.

The smell of wet leather.

Fear pressed around the call, but it did not belong entirely to Hanne.

There were others near her.

One person gasping.

Someone swearing.

Turnip bleating with great enthusiasm.

“Is anyone badly hurt?”

Silence.

The connection trembled.

Then Hanne returned.

One guard cut. Arrow in a horse. Nobody dead.

“Stay with the guards.”

That was already my plan.

The call vanished.

Eleanor had crossed the workshop before I finished.

She opened the door and shouted for a runner.

I followed.

By the time we reached the lower yard, the alarm bell had sounded twice.

Not an attack on Greykeep.

Riders needed.

Eliza came down the stair fastening her sword belt.

Melody was already in the yard.

“How far?” Eliza asked.

“Northern fork.”

“That is nearly two hours.”

“Less if the road is clear.”

“It won’t be.”

Aurelia appeared beside the well.

She looked at my face.

“You answered.”

“Yes.”

“And returned?”

“I think so.”

“Check.”

I wanted to tell her we did not have time.

That was probably why she had asked.

I stood in the wet yard.

Horses.

Guards.

Rain beginning again.

My power remained stretched north.

Not far.

Only a fine thread where Hanne’s call had been.

I drew it back.

The pressure beneath my ribs eased.

“I’m here.”

Aurelia nodded.

“Good.”

Eliza pointed toward the stable.

“Choose a horse.”

Evelyn intercepted me before I mounted.

She had come without a cloak.

Rain darkened her hair.

“What happened?”

I told her.

She looked toward the gate.

“How many men?”

“Hanne didn’t say.”

“Who is hurt?”

“One guard. I don’t know which.”

She caught my arm.

“Then ask before you ride into them.”

I reached for the fading direction.

Nothing answered.

“Hanne?”

No response.

The silence pulled at me.

I nearly pushed farther.

Aurelia touched my shoulder.

“Do not tear the road open because you are afraid of what waits at the end.”

I swallowed.

Then climbed into the saddle.

Evelyn looked up at me.

“You don’t have to be the first person there.”

“Eliza will be.”

“That is not what I meant.”

The gate began opening.

Sixteen guards waited behind Eliza.

Melody sat beside her with a bow across her knees.

“I know.”

My wife’s hand rested against my boot.

“Come home.”

“I will.”

There were promises nobody could make with certainty.

We made them anyway.

The southern road remained firm.

The northern road did not.

Rain had loosened the edges, and water crossed it in shallow brown streams.

Eliza set the pace.

Fast where the ground allowed.

Careful where it did not.

I wanted faster.

That did not improve the road.

Melody rode beside me after the first mile.

“You heard Hanne?”

“Yes.”

“What did she sound like?”

“Hanne.”

“That is reassuring.”

“She said men wanted the papers.”

“The village drafts?”

“Yes.”

Melody’s mouth tightened.

“So this was planned.”

We found the first sign at the old ash tree.

Hoof marks cut across the road from the west.

Several riders had waited there.

Eliza dismounted long enough to examine them.

“Ten horses. Perhaps twelve.”

“We have seventeen,” I said.

“We have sixteen guards and a king.”

“I can count.”

“I am establishing categories.”

She mounted again.

Apparently mine was less useful.

At the next rise, I felt Hanne.

Not a call.

A small pressure in the distance.

She was thinking of my name.

Perhaps attempting to reach me.

Perhaps merely annoyed.

I opened only enough to hear.

They’ve moved the wagon across the road.

“Hanne?”

You took your time.

“We’re close.”

Good.

The connection began to fade.

“Don’t confront them.”

Her reply came immediately.

Then arrive faster.

The northern fork lay beyond a low ridge.

Eliza slowed us before the crest.

Two guards dismounted and moved through the wet brush.

They returned a few minutes later.

“Nine men on the road,” one said. “Two more among the trees. The village party is gathered behind their wagon. Six Greykeep guards standing between.”

“Casualties?”

“Derrin has a cut along his arm. One northern horse wounded.”

“Archers?”

“At least three.”

Eliza looked at me.

“I speak first.”

“Yes.”

“You remain behind the forward line.”

“Yes.”

Melody looked at me.

I sighed.

“Yes.”

We came over the ridge at a walk.

The men blocking the road saw us immediately.

They wore no common colors.

Brown cloaks.

Leather coats.

A mixture of swords, spears, and hunting bows.

Nothing marked them as soldiers.

That appeared deliberate.

The wagon stood sideways across one branch of the fork.

Hanne sat on her horse behind it.

Turnip stood on the wagon bed with his front feet against the side.

Our six guards formed a line before them.

Derrin had wrapped his left arm.

Blood darkened the cloth.

Nobody was fighting.

Yet.

A narrow-faced man stepped forward.

“Road’s closed.”

Eliza stopped her horse several paces away.

“By whose authority?”

“Repairs.”

I looked at the road.

No tools.

No stone.

No timber.

Only armed men.

Eliza looked too.

“What are you repairing?”

The man’s jaw moved.

“Washout farther north.”

Tessa would have admired his ability to move the destination whenever questioned.

“Then why did you shoot a horse?” Eliza asked.

“It startled.”

“With an arrow?”

“Your people drew steel.”

Derrin spoke from the other side of the wagon.

“They tried to take the record case.”

The narrow-faced man looked toward him.

“That case may contain stolen documents.”

Mary would have disliked his wording.

I found that I disliked it enough for both of us.

“What documents?” I asked.

He looked at me properly for the first time.

Recognition came.

“Your Majesty.”

He did not bow.

I did not care.

“Which documents were stolen?”

“We were told papers belonging to Lord Carrow’s holdings were being carried north.”

At last, the lower lord had a name.

“Who told you?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Who ordered you to close the road?”

“Local authority.”

“Name it.”

He hesitated.

That was answer enough.

Eliza’s horse shifted beneath her.

She steadied it with one hand.

“You will clear the road,” she said.

“We cannot permit passage.”

“You have no written order, no colors, and no lawful toll charter. You attacked an escorted party on the king’s road.”

“This road is disputed.”

“It was less disputed before you shot someone on it.”

The man glanced toward the trees.

A bow moved among the branches.

I felt the archer before I saw him.

Fear.

Tight fingers.

A decision forming too quickly.

The arrow left the string.

I raised one hand.

Air struck it sideways.

The shaft spun into the mud between the two groups.

Every sword came free.

Every bow lifted.

Eliza did not move.

“Hold,” she said.

Her guards obeyed.

The men on the road almost did.

One lowered his spear.

Another did not.

My shield spread across our line.

Not large.

Not bright.

Enough.

I kept the rest of my power closed.

The narrow-faced man looked at the arrow.

“I did not order that.”

“Then you have lost control of your people,” Eliza said.

He turned toward the trees.

“Bran!”

A young man emerged slowly.

He still held the bow.

His face had gone pale.

“He moved,” the archer said.

Nobody asked who.

Fear had supplied the rest.

Eliza looked back at their leader.

“Clear the road.”

This time, he did.

The wagon took six men to move.

Four of ours.

Two of theirs.

The work seemed to embarrass everyone involved.

Hanne watched from horseback.

When the road stood open, she rode forward.

The narrow-faced man looked at the case beneath Tomas’s cloak.

“That property remains disputed.”

Hanne leaned toward him.

“If you touch it, the goat will bite you.”

Turnip had never demonstrated this ability.

The man looked at the wagon.

Turnip looked back.

The dispute ended.

Lysa examined Derrin’s arm while Evelyn was still two hours away.

The cut was shallow.

It had bled impressively.

Hanne’s description had been correct without being comforting.

The wounded horse was worse.

An arrow had entered high in its hindquarter.

Lysa and another guard removed it while Jorren held the animal’s head.

Thesra had sent ointment with her.

She had packed it inside Lysa’s herb bundle before the party left.

Nobody commented on that.

I stood beside Hanne while Eliza took names.

The men gave them reluctantly.

Mary would verify every one.

“Lord Carrow,” I said.

Hanne nodded.

“His father held tax rights here once.”

“Once?”

“The old bridge washed away. The road moved east. His father stopped maintaining it and stopped collecting.”

“Did anyone formally end the right?”

Hanne looked at me.

“You have met records.”

That meant no.

“You called me,” I said.

“I did.”

“How did you know it would work?”

“I didn’t.”

“That is a poor basis for rescue.”

“I also had six guards.”

I looked at Derrin.

“He was hurt.”

“He remained useful.”

Derrin lifted his uninjured hand from where Lysa worked.

“I appreciate that.”

Hanne’s mouth moved.

“I told you the important part.”

“Your guards are bleeding.”

“You came.”

Eliza ordered four of the road men to remain.

Their leader.

The archer.

Two who had attempted to seize Tomas’s case.

The others could return to Lord Carrow carrying a written notice.

Eleanor had once told me that anything important should be written before people began remembering it in their own favor.

I used the back of one village draft copy because nobody had brought clean paper.

Hanne objected.

I gave her my copy.

She accepted the exchange.

The notice stated what had occurred.

The road had been obstructed.

An escorted party had been attacked.

Four men would be held at Greykeep pending a hearing.

Lord Carrow could send a representative with any charter or record supporting his claimed authority.

He could not send armed men to seize documents.

I signed it.

Eliza signed beneath me.

Hanne leaned over.

“Add that the horse must be paid for.”

The horse was alive.

“That seems premature.”

“It may never pull a cart again.”

We added the horse.

The northern party continued with twelve guards.

Not to the fork.

All the way to Millcross.

Eliza chose eight from the riders she had brought and four from the original escort.

Derrin returned with us.

He objected until Lysa threatened to tie him over a saddle.

The captured men walked.

Bran the archer looked scarcely older than some of Abigail’s students.

He kept his eyes on the mud.

I was angry with him.

I was also glad my shield had reached the arrow.

Both things remained true.

Before we separated, Tomas approached me.

The record case stayed beneath his cloak.

“Will this affect the agreement?”

“Yes.”

His face fell.

I continued.

“You should tell every village exactly what happened.”

“You still want them to join?”

“I want them to decide with the truth.”

Hanne listened from several paces away.

“Even if the truth frightens them?”

“They were already being frightened.”

She nodded.

Then turned her horse north.

The ride back took longer.

Rain returned.

Derrin’s arm began hurting once there was no longer a standoff to occupy him.

Melody rode beside Bran.

She asked why he had loosed the arrow.

He said he thought I was reaching for a weapon.

“My hand was empty,” I said.

He looked at me.

“That was what frightened me.”

I considered the answer for the rest of the road.

Evelyn met us in the lower yard.

She examined Derrin first.

Then the other guards.

Then me.

“I’m not injured.”

“You rode through the rain.”

“That is not an injury.”

“It becomes one if you fall from the horse because you’re exhausted.”

She put both hands around my face and looked into my eyes.

I allowed this examination.

She kissed my forehead.

“Home,” she said.

The word reached farther than Hanne’s call had.

Aurelia waited in the training chamber.

Not that evening.

The following morning.

She placed one basin on the floor.

Only one.

I looked at it.

“Water?”

“Yes.”

“No sand?”

“No.”

“No divine examiner at the gate?”

“Not yet.”

I approached carefully.

“What am I doing?”

“Calling Hanne.”

I stopped.

“She reached Millcross before midnight. The guards sent a messenger.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because yesterday she opened the connection. Today you will learn whether you can ask permission to use it again.”

I looked at the water.

“What if she’s asleep?”

“Then you do not wake her.”

“What if she doesn’t answer?”

“Then she doesn’t answer.”

“That seems almost ordinary.”

Aurelia smiled.

“It should.”

I touched one finger to the water.

Thought of Hanne.

Her staff.

Her severe opinions about agreements.

Turnip eating my sleeve.

I reached no farther than the memory.

Then I offered my name.

Not a command.

Not a summons.

A knock.

Nothing happened.

I waited.

The water remained still.

Aurelia said nothing.

After a while, I withdrew.

“That was it?”

“That was it.”

“I failed.”

“No.”

“She didn’t answer.”

“You offered contact. She did not accept. Both parts worked.”

I looked down at the basin.

Learning to hear had seemed difficult.

Learning that silence could mean the other person had chosen it was harder.

A moment later, Hanne’s voice struck my attention.

It is too early.

I laughed.

Aurelia lifted an eyebrow.

“She answered.”

“What did she say?”

“She has concerns about the hour.”

The connection remained faint.

I opened it carefully.

“Did everyone reach Millcross safely?”

Yes.

“Good.”

A pause.

Then Hanne said, Do not make a habit of this.

“I won’t.”

And the goat is mine.

The connection closed.

I stared at the water.

Aurelia waited.

“She admitted it,” I said.

“What?”

“Turnip belongs to her.”

My teacher considered the importance of this revelation.

“Then the journey accomplished something.”

I lowered my hand into the basin.

The water was cold.

Ordinary.

Real.

Yesterday, Hanne had called because she needed help.

Today, I had knocked because I needed an answer.

She had been free to refuse both the king and whatever else I might someday become.

Instead, she had answered long enough to complain.

It felt like the beginning of a better kind of power.