To Be King

The rich Islander, Paen, was charming but in Racqein’s experience charm was a trait for scammers and thieves. Especially those scammers and thieves that called themselves noblemen.

“Why do you think they are riding the road from Tak to Engroch? Going all the way to Tak is not what normal merchants do.” Racqein spoke to Cruxion in his mind.

“Perhaps they are not merchants.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Racqein’s hands tightened on Cruxion’s sword in his lap and he watched Paen carefully as one of the man’s hands hovered just barely above Marisol’s lap as he loosely held the reins. Cruxion’s sword was beautiful and priceless, but if he was after it he could have taken it without also taking Racqein and Marisol as well. Could he want them? Racqein shuddered at the possibility.

“Some people can just be nice.”

Racqein snorted out loud, causing the broad-shouldered man in front of him to glance back. “Not rich people.”

“Well you aren’t going to figure him out if you don’t get him talking. We can learn things even from lies.”

Racqein ignored the slight itchiness in his eye behind the eyepatch when Cruxion went silent, leaving him ‘alone’ to question Paen.

“Paen!” Racqein raised his voice slightly to call out to the young rich Islander.

Paen lazily turned his head back to look at Racqein, “oh, initiating a conversation now? I’m flattered.”

“You said yourself that it’s odd for... Kreishans to be so far inland, so what are you doing on the road from Tak?”

“Ah, not a conversation then. An interrogation.” Racqein was too far away to be sure but Paen seemed to roll his eyes as he looked forward again. “I had business in Tak, now my business is done.”

“You a merchant?”

“Diplomat.” Paen glanced back at Racqein again, eyebrow raised. “I’m from one of the ruling families of Kreisha. I came to Takkam this time to find a wife amongst the noble women of Takkam to strengthen our countries’ relationship. But all the capital girls get seasick too easily so I must look elsewhere for a bride. Is that a satisfactory answer?”

Racqein chewed on his bottom lip, somewhat annoyed that he believed most of it. It would explain the interaction with the soldiers, but Paen had a voice that always sounded like it was holding back the full truth. Still Racqein replied, “...yes.”

The corner of Paen’s mouth twitched up in a grin, “what about you two? Why are you on the road?”

“We’re-!” Marisol started to answer but one look from Racqein and she shut her mouth, facing forward once more and slouching.

Paen twisted his back to fully look at Racqein, “come now. I answered, so should you.”

Fixing his eyes on the orange flower tattoo on the side of Paen’s head, Racqein lied, “thought I might find someone willing to hire an Islander closer to the sea.”

“Very reasonable answer. Odd that it’s a lie.”

*

Marsa laid the young were in her bed and as gently as she could she began to stitch the wound on his abdomen closed. His brow furrowed and little animal-like whines escaped his throat but he blessedly didn’t wake. She put a poultice and bandages over the stitched wound, praying to Vasara the whole time that he wouldn’t immediately jump up and tear his stitches.

She turned away to wash her hands in the basin Elle brought. Elle stood by Marsa’s side shaking slightly, her face pale and lips pressed tight into a thin line. Her hands were twisted into her skirt, nearly tearing the already threadbare fabric. Then her eyes widened and without moving she harshly whispered, “Priestess, look!”

“Hmm?” Marsa raised her eyebrows then turned back to see the were’s amber eyes staring at her blankly, “oh!” She stood in her surprise and when the poor creature flinched, she cursed herself internally. She crouched, trying to make herself smaller, then spoke in a soft, quiet voice, “I know you probably can’t understand me, but I mean you no harm. I just want to help you.”

The were’s golden-blonde eyebrows pinched together as if confused or thinking but then in perfect, unaccented Takkorik, he said, “I can understand you just fine.”