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The King’s Commander

Page 9

by Cecelia Mecca

Chapter Five

Aedre

“Take this.” I shove a coin into the boy’s hand. “Give the smith a message.”

The boy’s eyes widen as he stares at the coin. This prompts me to give him another, knowing he sees too few of them in those small hands. “I am Aedre, his daughter.” A fact that he likely already knows. “Tell him I’ve been delayed but will return before sunset. Can you do that?”

He nods vigorously and runs away. I will still receive a blistering from Father, but at least he will not worry for my safety. Pulling the hood down a bit farther, I enter and look for them.

There.

Thankfully, their leader does not appear to have found his way back to them yet. Ordering a tankard of ale, I sit as close as possible with my back to two of the men. Courtesy of his wife, Sailor’s Inn is always well kept, if muddy near the doors on rainy days. Boards serve as tables, and high-backed settles and stools are scattered all around. Behind the long board where some sit to drink, shelves full of pewter dishes and earthenware mugs are stacked nearly to overflowing. On cool days, the stone hearth in the corner is lit, always surprising those who come from the south, unused to our cold, rainy days, even in the summer.

The others do not pay me any notice, and with luck, none of the Sailor’s Inn patrons will either. It is not at all unusual for a woman to frequent the dockside tavern alone. Though I suspect, from my understanding and from Lord d’Abella’s reaction earlier, it would be odd indeed in the south.

It doesn’t take long for them to speak of their objective. I’ve positioned myself in such a way that they’re all seated behind me. My view is of the innkeeper and his attendants, plus all manner of patrons, but I need not see the Southerners to hear them clearly.

“Will we stay?”

“His instructions were clear. We don’t return without him.”

Him.Kipp.

“Where do you think Vanni has gone?” the first man asked.

“Getting the townspeople to adore him, most likely.”

That was said with reverence, not malice. So people like this commander? And his men respect him?

“Will it matter if we cannot gain access to the man?”

A grunt greets his question. “It did surprise me to learn he’s so infrequently home.”

The remoteness of Kipp’s manor and infrequency of his visits ashore are well-known here but apparently less so to the men who would persuade him to return to his birthplace.

His instructions were clear. We don’t return without him.

Why has the king sent for him after all these years? Especially since Kipp made it very clear the last time they came he would never, ever return south.

“There he is.”

I spin around without thinking and then turn back in my seat quickly. Of course they’re talking of their commander and not of Kipp.

Did he notice me?

“Have you learned anything?” one of his men ask.

I can hear a shuffling sound as Lord d’Abella takes a seat, blissfully unaware of my presence. Thank the heavens.

“Only that the women of Murwood End are curious indeed.”

I’d not planned on drinking the ale, having merely ordered it to avoid suspicion. But I take a long sip, shaken by his presence. By his words.

“Curious how?”

“Does it matter? We’re here to find . . .”

One of the men, the commander maybe, clears his throat.