Chapter 11

The private meeting concluded, and after an awkward lunch at Lord Garl’s table where nothing of the recent business could be discussed due to too many ears, Peter was ready to return to his island. Constance asked to speak with him privately before he left, and because the afternoon weather was perfect, she and Peter decided they should talk while walking to the dockyard alone.

This allowed additional time for Miranda to meet with Lord Garl and Isorina privately so the three could review Garl’s current contracts and agreements, which would have to be maintained or concluded by Peter during Garl’s absence. Letters of permission and explanation were also prepared, which, in effect, granted Peter permissions similar to what a power-of-attorney would have on Earth. When that business was done, Miranda and Bemi would take the buggy to the boatyard, where they planned to rendezvous with Peter in an hour or two.

Commander Constance and Peter walked down the tree-lined main drive, remaining silent because of the nearby entry guards. He glanced at Constance and smiled as she had left her helmet behind, allowing her fiery red hair to shine freely in the sun.

Once they were far enough away from the entry guards, she began, “I want to thank you for finally responding to Lord Garl’s request to meet, Peter. It saved me having to take a boat over to your island and drag you here.”

“I’ve been busy since I awoke,” he replied coolly.

She nodded, accepting the recovery from his injuries as a valid reason for delay. “Yes, that ice island adventure was a true pile of naroxen dung.”

“Did you know of Sala’s plan for the dragon portal?” he asked, while studying her reaction.

Commander Constance looked uneasy.

“You did!” he accused.

“I knew she had something planned, but I knew nothing about the bomb,” she replied quickly. “She would not tell me details as she knew of the dragon’s ability to read human minds, even well-shielded minds.”

Peter considered and saw the logic of her explanation.

“And,” she continued, scowling, “like you, I am none too pleased at having been used by the Mohennial. I now have to deal with the consequences, just like you do.”

“Oh?” Peter asked.

“Why do you think I’ve been sent to guard these lands?” she explained. “Sala wants me away from the Vent. That’s also why I needed to talk to you in private, Peter.”

Constance stopped walking and continued in a more serious tone. “Mistress Sala is currently dealing with the Order investigation over the recent events that took place at Anodynen Keep. By now, the Vent is crawling with Keeper operatives.”

“I suspected the Keepers of the Arcanum would be up her ass about what happened on the ice island.” Peter commented, chuckling.

“Yes ... well, she says to tell you that the Keeper operatives are about to be up your ass about the incident as well,” she continued, still very serious. “Probably in the next day or two. She advises you to prepare your staff for questioning and to sanitize your island of any inconvenient secrets before they arrive.”

“Shit!” Peter muttered. His first thought was of his new apprentice. He did not want the Order becoming aware of Bemi this early in her training.

Constance continued, “Sala suggested you stash your new apprentice in Garl’s manor, as details of the Mohennial’s agreement with Lord Garl so far remain secret. As of right now, only seven know of her involvement here: the six of us who met today plus the Mohennial Sala, herself.”

“Word will eventually leak,” Peter replied.

“Of course, but hopefully not until long after the conclusion of the current investigation,” Constance explained. “And while Sala is currently on the defensive, she is not without power, and is already working to quash the investigation before it proceeds too far.”

Shifting Bemi here might work. Once they were back on the island, he could have the teenager quickly pack her belongings and return to Garl’s dock alone by canoe. This could happen before dark.

“If that is what I decide, Bemilda could be back here before nightfall,” Peter said. “You will arrange things with Isorina and Lord Garl?”

“Of course, Peter,” she replied with a smile. “They already suspect you will move to take control here. Installing some of your people into his household so quickly would only seem prudent. No one on Garl’s estate knows anything about the dragon incident or the pending Order investigation. I would instruct your people to keep it that way when they come. The fewer people who know, the faster the debacle can be forgotten.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “I suppose the Order knows that my half-elf Tevi was involved?”

“Mohennial Sala expects they do,” Constance confirmed. “She was visible to the soldiers on the island after you became unconscious. They also will know of the Northlander woman. Both should survive being questioned by the Order. Just tell them to answer all questions truthfully, but to never volunteer anything. Sala plans to tell the Order she sent the Northlander slave to you as payment in exchange for your services on the expedition.”

Peter nodded again, but remained silent as he thought. Sala’s suggestions might work. Nahuul would stand up to even a full mental interrogation, as anyone digging too deeply would have to endure the fresh pain of the imprints left by the Mohennial. He was more worried about Tevi. He would have to remind her of which subjects were best left undiscussed. He gestured toward the road, implying they should resume their walk.

After walking a few minutes, Commander Constance asked, “By the way, how is the blind Northlander woman getting along on your island?”

“Very well, so far,” Peter replied. “She’s proven to be quite ... interesting.”

“How is she dealing with no longer having functional dragon mind frills? Mohennial Sala speculated the girl might not wish to go on living without them.”

“Again, she is dealing with the loss well,” Peter replied. “Although enough of the frills remain for the woman to partially retain her former abilities.”

At the Commander’s worried look, he went on, “We’re watching her closely. I’ve probed her mind and have impressed upon her to not use any of her powers in a harmful way.”

They approached the end of Garl’s tree-lined main drive. The exercise felt good, and Peter felt no pain in his leg, allowing them to walk at normal speed. If pressed, he felt he could even manage a jog. Ten minutes later, they passed through the gate near the Coast Road. Peter realized they were ahead of schedule and detoured to the small guard shack. The older boy manning the crossroads was sitting outside in the warm sun with his eyes closed likely dozing. Peter coughed politely before they got too close. The lad noticed them and scrambled to his feet.

“Milord! And ... lady,” the teenage boy said, looking at them with both worry and curiosity.

“Hello there, son,” Peter said with authority while pointing to a stone building off to the north. “Lord Garl wants us to inspect his smithy. Do you have the key?”

The teenager looked at building frowning before responding. “It’s open.” He replied. “The traveling smith takes his tools with him, so there is nothing left worth locking up when he is gone.

The lad’s comment about the traveling smith made Peter recall that Miranda had once mentioned that Lord Garl’s old smith had died. He could not remember exactly how long ago it had been but must have been at least a year.

“How long has it been since Lord Garl had a full-time smith?” Peter asked the boy.

The teenager thought for a moment before replying, “Master Smith Eackil died the winter before last. His journeyman was bequeathed Eackil’s tools and worked the smithy for a short while until he left in the spring to start a smithy closer to where he was from. After that, Milord Garl arranged for a traveling smith to stop by occasionally since then. Villien Brawn also sometimes tinkers there when the smith is away and sometimes uses the large shop to store his feed wagon when it rains.”

Peter took in the assortment of broken ironware piled outside the smithy’s door. “It looks like the traveling smith can’t keep up,” he commented.

“No sir,” the boy said regretfully. “He stopped coming as often. I’ve heard it said he’s been working mostly at the mines up north. It’s a shame too, as passing travelers often ask if we have a smith available.

“Thank you,” Peter replied before dismissing the teenager abruptly to prevent questions.

Constance followed him silently and with a curious smile on her face. When they reached the stone building, Peter found the double doors were indeed unlocked. He opened both halves and secured them in place using rusty cane bolts, letting sunlight flood the interior. As the boy had said, the smithy was mostly empty, with only the forge, bellows, and one large cast steel anvil too heavy to move remaining.

“Why are we snooping around?” Constance asked curiously.

Peter explained about his villein’s son, Stren, becoming an apprentice to a Master Smith Loral who operated a smithy near Hale Pass. He then mentioned the recent letter from Henri stating Master Loral lacked enough work to keep the boy fully occupied. Peter wondered if Garl’s smithy might provide a better business location for the smith.

“If I can convince Loral to relocate here, Stren will be much closer to his family,” he concluded.

“And Lord Garl’s lands will again have the benefit of a full-time smith,” Constance added, nodding.

“A swap might even be possible,” Peter continued. “The lad at the crossroads mentioned that Garl’s traveling smith was busy these days working the northern mines. Maybe that smith would want to base his operations out of Hale Pass?”

“I am impressed, Peter,” Constance said. “You are not wasting any time improving Garl’s estate. Sala was wise to make you her reeve here.”

“Let’s not get the cart before the horse,” he replied, but he found himself smiling.