Valleys and Mountains

The feast began with the guests taking their seats.

“I didn't even ask what’s the occasion,” I remarked.

“It's the 40th birthday of that well-fed pig with the silly green hat. There in the back right corner. He's a cousin of the Mareeve. Owns almost half of Crunley. But don't worry about him. It's really just a show of power by our overlord with all the turmoil we’re going through.”

“Is that why the women aren't there?”

“Yes, think of it as a husting rather than a boisterous feast.”

At the center he sat, my new lord. A stout man with a stern expression and long, straight light-brown hair—an overlord who seemed harsh but not cruel.

Mirrond stepped away from me and took a seat at a table next to the Mareeve’s right. The cousin in question also took a seat right there, and the other guests sitting so close to the center of attention must have been the two shireeves and heads of the families of the blood.

Further to the right sat the other lords, and to the left, the thanes. Despite my lineage, I had to make do with the latter this time.

After everyone had taken their seats, basins of water and towels for washing hands were passed around until Archengand stood up, motioned for his cousin to do the same, handed him his cup, and the rotund birthday boy, somewhat awkwardly, raised said drinking vessel to the other guests.

Four harrowers stepped forward one after another and blessed the celebration in the name of various gods.

Finally, the food was served, and after the meal, we had a good time drinking. I stayed in the background until the Mareeves' relative, with his funny hat, stepped forward again.

“Dear friends of House Ash—my house, and, more importantly, the house of our overlord—listen to me! I want to take this opportunity—my birthday—to reaffirm my loyalty to our blessed march, Funa, and to my dearest relative, the Mareeve! And I will do so by renewing my oath of allegiance!”

He raised his right hand, with the index finger and middle finger extended upwards.

“Everyone who feels the same about our lands, our privileges, our duties, you are free to follow my example! I expect no further gifts from my dear guests.”

Immediately, a number of men jumped to their feet, including the Bureeve and most of the other lords close to Archengand. I followed their lead, and little by little, everyone else in the room did the same. No one dared to remain seated.

After the oath was reaffirmed—which Mareeve accepted stoically—the tension eased considerably, and so did the seating arrangement. Small groups formed, and Mirrond beckoned me over. Two men were standing next to him.

“What a wonderful and sudden idea, wasn’t it?” he said, winking at me.

“Yes, very sudden.”

“May I introduce Inomar of the House of Igeoth, a child of the blood and now also thane in the service of our great overlord.”

“So that's him? A little young, isn't he?” remarked one of the two men, a scrawny old codger with a magnificent mustache and a bowl cut.

“This grumpy, disheveled fellow here is good old Dahadir, Shireeve of Durrow.”

“Of the House of Fresena!”

“Oh, yes, very important. And this is Baduith Molter, Reeve of Frone, a much more affable man.”

“You lousy little rat, I'll show you what “affable” really means!”

The Shireeve rattled off his angry tirade without a smile, but the irony in the air was still palpable. These were old friends, it seemed.

“You don't need to treat me with the same deference as you do those two high-and-mighty lords. I'm just a churl,” added Baduith, a man with short blond hair, strikingly thick eyebrows, and very dark eyes. He seemed younger than Mirrond and much younger than Dahadir. maybe in his early thirties?

“It's a pleasure to meet you two,” I replied and bowed toward the Shireeve.

“So Mirrond already warned you, huh?”

He hadn’t. Not of this quarrelsome shireeve, who didn't bother to return the bow.

“Let's get to the point, Lord Shireeve.”

“Of course, Lord Bureeve. A carriage will pick you up tomorrow in front of the Pixthed city gate, Lord Thane. Good Badu here will be traveling with you on my behalf.”

“The Lord Bureeve mentioned a stopover?”

“That’s right. A small village in Kingam, about a third of the way to Frone.”

“Kingam?”

“One of the four lathes of Durrow. What's the name of that village again, Badu?”

“Swarehurst.”

“Swarehurst, of course! One of the sellswords will join you there. And more importantly there's also a wigh there that you should visit. But Badu will explain that to you tomorrow on the road.”

“When exactly should I be at the city gate?”

“Badu?”

“At dusk. Stroke of Sune’s bell.”

“How long will this quest take?”

“Badu? Wait, I know that one! However long it takes to get this done.”

I decided to save my remaining questions for the next day. It seemed like a better idea to talk with the younger reeve without his boss.

Mirrond and Dahadir got lost in retellings of their shared past, and after a while I excused myself when the Bureeve let me know that I didn't have to stay and take part in the feast any longer.

By the time I had retrieved my equipment and arrived at the inn, it was already time for bed if I had to be back in Pixthed right at the stroke of the first bell.

But the innkeeper stopped me on the way up to my room and handed me a bag full of coins and two letters.

I decided to entrust my belongings to his care and wanted to give him a fair share of the silver, but he would not accept anything beyond the payment for my stay as a guest.

In the end, we agreed on a small sum to rent part of the basement to store my things there.

The innkeeper asked me if he could tell his wife and Linzi about my departure, to which I had no objection.

Back in my room, I took a close look at the letters. In the first one, Zalta apologized for not being able to hire Fion, since she couldn’t be found, and already held out the prospect of more work for me should I be looking for it.

The second writ was a pass to travel freely through the Seatish Lordships.

It was a shame not to be able to meet the witch once more, not to be allowed to tease her once again.

Linzi also didn't come to see me that night. I wondered if she got angry when her uncle told her about my journey.

And eventually, the dream world caught up with me.

We rode east. We rode west. Over and over again. From battlefield to battlefield. I waged war. I always won, until I lost once. Not on the battlefield.

Whispers. Defeated without a fight. Shame. From the blood of those who had brought shame upon themselves. Blame.

I rode on. Twice-shamed—not the byname I'd been hoping for.

But I would just keep riding. And then continue on foot. When I couldn't go any further, I'd take a boat, build bridges, and climb walls.

A crimson valley. How would I climb this mountain in the distance? This mountain of corpses up close?

I woke up, still in the dark, got ready, and crept downstairs.

But the glow of the hearth fire still—or perhaps once again—shone over from the dining hall.

As I peeked inside, I saw the innkeeper's wife already at work, and contrary to my plans, she saw me, too.

Right away, the woman called over the innkeeper and Linzi, and they practically forced me to eat with them.

It felt strange. I felt out of place, more so than at the feast, but the couple seemed quite pleased.

Would I miss them? Hardly. No, no—not anyone I'd met here in Strandburgh. I was free of such weight. Wasn’t I?

I had to take my leave and told these people, whatever they had become to me, I'd be back eventually.

When? I didn’t know.

Little Linzi looked away shyly, but then ran after me once I was already out of the house and threw her arms around me.

This girl. She didn't say a word, and I pushed her away, apologized. For what?

I had to take my leave.

When I arrived in Pixthed, the first bell was already ringing and the gate wide open. I would be late, but only by a little.

So I arrived outside Strandburgh, looked around, searching for Baduith, when I suddenly noticed a shadow at my heels once again.

“Hey, Ino! Wait!” the shadow in the corner of my eye spoke.

I felt as if someone had grabbed me just before I’d tumbled down a mountain.