Chapter 39

  “Gifts bestowed by the gods are rare, and should be valued higher than the purest gold or the most perfect diamonds.” —From the journal of Inuté Zakah, orcish Paladin of the Lady.

  Outside Ka’din, Cryptonia, Ground Plane

  Jasper and his companions prepared to leave Snow Fort early the next morning. When they walked outside, the horses were saddled and blowing steam into the cold air. A few hours later, they splashed through the soggy road on the way to the small city of Ka’Din. Despite the nasty post-storm weather, they made decent time.

  When they arrived, Jasper found it a much more welcoming environment than Weston had been upon his initial visit. There were northern elves, humans, and even a smattering of orcs, though the population seemed to predominantly be made up of dwarves. All mingled freely, speaking at fence gates, on street corners, and under shop awnings. Children played together, ran around their parents through the covered market, and generally behaved as excited youngsters should. All gaped at the young nobleman and his escorts as they passed, but the dwarves recovered quickly and bowed to him, smiling.

  “They seem to have heard of you,” Jonno observed, chuckling over his shoulder.

  “Tales of Lord Jasper’s endeavors appear to have spread already,” Titus laughed.

  “The dwarves know of his kindness to their kin in the Tower,” Calian explained. “Cook Harla sent word to her people here and in the dwarven forest. I am sure you will be met by several Family Mothers when we arrive at the town hall, ser.”

  “Is there any special greeting I should observe?” Jasper inquired. “I know there are certain traditions people of this world value, much like my own.”

  “Nothing so austere,” the vampire grinned. “A bow and the greeting Harla taught you would be appropriate. The forest folk are simple people, despite their storied past and many customs.” Jonno and Nima pulled up before a large building similar to a log cabin—though this one was constructed from enormous logs, their width so broad no man could reach his arms around the trunk of just one tree. Jasper was momentarily distracted by the structure but quickly turned to the gathered group waiting for him.

  As Calian had said there would be, several matronly dwarves stood waiting for them. They wore a rainbow’s worth of color. Their skirts, blouses, and smocks were threaded with beautiful painted beads. In addition to the pretty fabrics, all the forest folk sported brightly colored shoes with threads of many different hues woven together in the outer layers. The female elders of the group wore sashes around their thick waists. Atop their heads were what appeared to be beaded headdresses—these made of gold tubes, squares, and intricate silver leaves that flashed in the shafts of sunlight. Hanging on their foreheads from the headdresses were disks of gold with a symbol Jasper could not make out. The retinue standing with the three elders were similarly garbed but lacked the additional jewelry. Titus reined his horse around granting Jasper plenty of room to dismount. The dwarves bowed simultaneously and sketched a hand sign he had seen Harla make.

  “Greetings to you, Lord Jasper,” said the middle of the three women, smiling a toothy grin. He bowed to his welcoming party and she continued. “I am Michi, the head Family Mother of Ka’Din. It is my honor to welcome you to our home.”

  “The honor is mine, Mother Michi.” Jasper replied in dwarvish and smiled openly. He returned her bow and switched back to the common tongue. “I am sorry to say that I still do not have full command of your language, though I am learning. I am pleased to meet all of you, and I hope to rebuild the good relations between the Tower and her neighbors.” Expressions of collective joy and amazement grew across the dwarves’ faces.

  “We know, Lord,” said the woman next to Michi. “I am Farana, Mother Michi’s eldest daughter. My cousin Harla, has said much in praise of your efforts.”

  “I am doing what I can,” he shrugged, slightly embarrassed. “She has been an excellent tutor.”

  “She says your dwarvish is coming along quickly,” Michi grinned. “But she also says you need to practice your runes.”

  “My handwriting has always been terrible,” he said.

  “There will be time for studies later,” said the elder dwarf, stepping to the side. “Please come in, Lord. We will tend to your horses.”

  “Gladly, Mother.” Jasper turned to his guards. “Jonno, Nima, take first squad and help the ladies unload.” The lead riders quickly hopped down, and Jonno took Notch’s lead.

  “Aye, Lord.” Michi waved forward one of the younger women beside her.

  “Kila, please escort them to the pens and then the guest rooms.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Jasper followed Michi and her daughter forward, remembering to scrape off his boots before proceeding through the large plank door. Inside was a mud room.

  “There are slippers for you here, Lord.” Farana knelt to remove his boots but he held up his hands.

  “Oh, miss, please—I can manage.” Farana looked a bit surprised but nodded and stood. He quickly pulled off the dirty riding boots and slid on the colorful fur slippers. They were incredibly comfortable, and Jasper was thrilled to be out of his tight leather riding boots. Farana smiled at his relieved sigh and led onwards. In the Town Hall proper, it was warmly-lit. The room was different than he expected. It was a round central room populated with thick rugs, intricately carved furniture, and lamps very similar to the kind on Jasper’s castle staircase.

  A chandelier constructed from dozens of antlers he could not recognize hung from the rafters, casting warm light over the room. Michi walked into the center and sat in one of the large chairs. She indicated the sofa across from her with a wave of her hand. He took his seat, tilting his sword sheath to the side so he did not poke the leather cushions or get tangled up in his cloak. Michi spoke as he settled himself.

  “I have been kept abreast of events in the Tower,” she said. “I know of your financial difficulties, and the steps you have taken to resolve them.”

  “It is quite the hole I am trying to dig myself out of,” he chuckled wryly.

  “An apt way of putting it,” she laughed. “Ka’Din’s treasury is likewise stretched thin, though not to the extent of your own.”

  “Regarding that, I actually have a few requests. I figured that with the amount of dwarves and talented men and women in this area that I might be able to recruit some of them to help us rebuild—perhaps reestablish some trade with the surrounding communities.”

  “This is a thoughtful idea,” Michi said, leaning back and bracing her elbow on the armrest. “Were there any particular roles that you seek to have filled?”

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  “A bowyer, for one. We have a decent assortment of equipment, but no specialist to manage it all or make any kind of significant repairs.” Jasper sighed. “However, the largest gap is mostly in the guard ranks. We have a small veteran corps and perhaps a cohort and a half of recruits that Armsmaster Benn is currently training.”

  “That is good news,” said Michi, nodding.

  “Agreed. Unfortunately, even with our recruits, there is not enough to properly handle such a wide area. The forts themselves are also dreadfully undermanned. Many of those poor folks have been posted there for years with very little leave—much like the castle staff.”

  “Harla mentioned the lack of adequate soldiers as well. I can put out word that you are looking for able men and women, but I cannot give you warriors, Lord.”

  “I understand completely,” Jasper nodded. “You need to protect yourselves and keep order too, I would not bare you to danger just to protect myself. We will manage.”

  “We thank you, Lord.” Michi inclined her head again with a small smile. “Harla was correct: you are an honorable man.” Jasper’s cheeks colored at her praise.

  “As I said, I am just trying to do the best I can with what I have been given.”

  “By that measure, my sisters and I have found you to be worthy of our people’s respect and loyalty, both as Lord of the Tower and a man in your own right. None of the lords in recent years have done so much in so short a time to bring the country back to prosperity.” Jasper had to think about that for a moment. He certainly had been trying to stabilize the Tower’s situation and to rebuild relationships, but he had not truly been considering the prospect of the impact this would have on the communities of the region as individuals. Michi went on after a moment. “I do know of a candidate that might fit the Tower’s needs.”

  “Really?” Jasper leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Do tell.”

  “Hesia, another relative of mine, is an accomplished bowyer,” Michi continued. “She even has an apprentice to assist her in fletching.”

  “Our smith, Markiel, can make all the heads and points we need, but the finesse required for intricate bow construction eludes us,” Jasper snorted. “I will gladly take whatever help they can give.”

  “Hesia has actually been searching for a place to establish her own craft. The poor girl has been champing at the bit here at home, and will be more than happy to go.”

  “That is fantastic!” Jasper sat back, blowing out a relieved sigh. “May I meet them?”

  “Gladly, my Lord. I will send word for them.” A thought occurred to Jasper, and he sat forward on the sofa, bracing his elbows on his knees.

  “Mother, I have a question I have been meaning to ask one of the forest folk.” Michi’s head tilted curiously.

  “I will answer as best I can, Lord. What is on your mind?”

  “Harla called me ‘Fire Touched’ when she and I first met. Dool, the quartermaster, used the same title. What does it mean?” Michi smiled and shook her head.

  “Ah, I see. It is an old belief—one I am honestly surprised Harla holds to.” She gestured to her chin. “It is your beard that excites them. Men of our world do not grow mixed colored hair, it is said, unless they possess some special gift of the gods. Red,” she grinned. “Being fire.”

  “Really?” Jasper’s eyebrows went up. “They think I have fire magic or something?”

  “As I said, it is an old legend.” Michi shrugged. “It has been hundreds of years since anyone like you has been found. I believe it may be a thing for some people to cling to in the hopes you will bring better times. Protection, maybe.” She studied him for several moments. “I would like to hear tales about where you come from, one day. We know there are other worlds—as I said, you are not the first visitor the Land has called.”

  “I’d be happy to tell you sometime, Mother,” Jasper smiled. An hour or so later, a meal was served for the visiting lord and his aides, the Family Mothers, Hesia, the bowyer, and Simka, her fletcher apprentice. As they had in Weston, half of Jasper’s guards stood by, at ease in such welcoming territory, but not lax. The others dined with their master before switching with their comrades. Jasper introduced himself to the two dwarven crafters. Hesia beamed and spoke excitedly about her desires to leave Ka’Din.

  “The only real reason I have not done so already was not having a true place to go,” the young dwarf shrugged. “Bowyers are not exactly the adventuring type. We cannot simply strike out on our own and make our way. We have tools, supplies, things we cannot just leave behind.”

  “I understand completely,” Jasper smiled indulgently. “I am more than happy to renovate and expand our current spaces to account for your needs, Miss Hesia—and you, Simka. Your combined skills are a valuable commodity I intend to put to good use.”

  “We are happy to serve, Lord Jasper.” Simka grinned through his red beard. Supper continued with little excitement. Jasper spent the next day sitting with Michi and Calian, the three of them going over the most urgent needs of both the Tower and the Motherwood’s home city. They made great progress, but Jasper was growing tired later that afternoon and called a recess.

  “We can continue in the morning,” Michi said with a kind smile. She bowed and departed his rooms. Calian finished sharpening his pencil with a razor-sharp fingernail before putting it in the small sleeve of his notebook. Jasper had not noticed the vampire’s nails being so blade-like before but shrugged. He was almost too mentally exhausted to care.

  “Is there anything you require, my Lord?” He asked quietly, pacing to stand beside Jasper’s chair. The human shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

  “No, my friend. Thank you. I think I just need—” There was a scraping on the roof, like the talons of a great bird. Jasper made a face.

  “What on earth?” He looked out of the window and jumped in surprise when Pecunia dropped down to the sill and pecked at the glass panes.

  “It’s Pecunia,” said Calian, his sharp ears identifying the sound of her wingbeats.

  “Master!” She squawked urgently. “Word from Miss Sue and Miss Fern!” She reached into her little messenger pouch with a delicate taloned claw and held up a scroll with the Tower’s sigil stamped on it.

  “Good grief,” said Jasper, moving over to the window, but Calian was faster. He opened the multi-paned window and allowed the small harpy to squeeze through. She landed and ruffled her feathers before flattening them down once more. Her new plumage had begun to come in during Jasper’s time away, and she seemed to be in better condition than when she had left the Tower upon their first meeting. “Is everything okay?” Pecunia trilled quietly and shrugged her bony shoulders.

  “Miss Sue says bad things happening with orcs,” she said brightly. “Miss Fern says come back quick, Master needs to see and hear.” She held out the scroll, and Jasper took it, eyebrows raised.

  “Really?” He broke the seal and opened the letter to find Fern’s neat script outlining what the shape shifting spy had uncovered.

  “My Lord,” she wrote, “our orcish neighbors to the west have been infiltrated and attacked by goblins, as well as their foul southern cousins. We do not know all the details as of yet, but Sue has informed us there is more at work in Fal-Ig-Han than simple unrest. The orc borders have been penetrated, and enemies move unobserved through their land.

  One of the Coalition’s leaders, Lord Yastagarr, has sent a request for mediation and for additional military support from the Tower. Clearly, word has spread that a new Lord has taken up residence, and they are sorely in need of assistance, based on the letter we received.

  Due to Ser Titus’, Calian’s, and your own absence, I warranted it too vital an incident to handle without your consent.

  Please make all haste to return. The orc noble’s messenger awaits your decision.

  Your faithful friend,

  Fernilla”

  “Seriously? A goblin and orc invasion?” Jasper looked up at Pecunia, eyes wide. She was busy pruning her feathers with her lithe fingers and petite beak. She looked up, her blue eyes sparkling.

  “Mean greenies cause trouble,” Pecunia chirped. “Coalition messenger says orc lords not getting along.”

  “Yikes.” Jasper looked over the letter again. “Infighting is not the best plan when facing a crisis like this.”

  “Yikes,” Pecunia repeated, nodding sagely. Jasper rolled up the scroll again and stuck it in his belt, pulling a silver coin from his pouch. He held it out to the harpy.

  “Thank you, Pecunia. Please return to the Tower and tell Fern I will be back as soon as possible.” She took the stamped silver and studied it with her big eyes.

  “Silver Pine. Four years old, Vilkra mint, East Duchy.” Jasper smiled at her and gently reached out to stroke her feathery head. Pecunia watched the human but allowed him to touch her. She made a contented little purring noise when he did so. “I will go now. Need to deliver message and hide the shiny.”

  “See you at home,” Jasper said with a smile. He waved when she stepped gracefully from the windowsill out into open air, her wings opening and arresting her fall. He closed the window and turned to Calian. The steward cocked his head quizzically, waiting for orders. “Please find Titus and Mother Michi. Evidently, our western neighbors are causing trouble, and I need to discuss it with our allies.” The immortal bowed.

  “At once, Lord.”