HONOR BOUND

Chapter 4

I have heard of Tmer Manor, but this peek from behind Rogher's broad back is the first time when I actually set eyes on it. Behind me, the clatter of hooves stops as the soldiers accompanying us halt their horses as well to take an assessing look at our destination.

"A handsome place," says one of them approvingly, and Rogher nods.

That ubiquitous dark stone seems to be the favored – if not only – material the people of these lands grab whenever they need to build something. Over the past days I've already seen countless houses, stables and sheds made of those sharp-edged slabs, not to mention all the miles of stone wall that cut through fields or line the road. I wouldn't mind some variety but of course one must use what is easily available, and I must admit that without its solid grey color the manor would look much less impressive.

Not unimpressive, though, definitely not. Sturdy stone walls surround those parts of the yard that aren't enclosed by buildings, and even though it has many windows, they are small and narrow and make the whole complex look very much like a small castle. Slate roofs complete the picture, giving it a stern mien. This place does not invite even its friends in, let alone its foes.

It seems to be close, but I already know better than to trust my first impression. I've lost count of the times when I've looked at a village or a bridge or a flock of sheep thinking that it's just a few moments' ride away,  only to realize that in this country every bend in the road hides behind it at least two more. But maybe my eyes aren't leading me astray too badly this time, for the ground ahead looks relatively flat and unbroken?

"It's not far away any more," I say hopefully, clinging more tightly to Rogher's belt, and his grunt of agreement makes me sigh with relief. 

These past six days in the saddle, or in my case behind it, have driven home to me just how daunting a task we're faced with. I've always traveled the more eastern routes, where the hills and mountains do rise to quite some heights but their slopes are always gentle and smooth in outline. This ridge of mountains we've been skirting all the while is something else entirely. It's something to reckon with. Never out of sight, it looms on our right, ragged and steep and treacherous.

We've used the road to get here. An important road it is, too, that is plain to see from the painstaking care it has been given. Plentiful rubble and stone has been carted in to harden the surface in places where the road would otherwise be squelchy and treacherous. Thick logs have been split in two and placed to bridge sections that no amount of rubble has been able to repair. The road has not slowed us down at all, Rogher and myself and the dozen soldiers hand-picked by Lord Jhorell to escort Lady Inella's dowry to Noragayll, we have just chosen not to hurry at this point.

The journey back will be a whole different thing. I've seen Rogher look around, I've seen his frown, and I know he's no happier than I am. I know from long experience that the straight route is rarely the quickest way from one place to another, but here that notion has been gaining wholly new depth. Since Noragayll I've seen enough ravines, steep hills and fierce brooks to last me a lifetime, not forgetting all those swamps that have taken over the particularly deep and sheltered hollows and look ready to swallow a man and horse whole if only someone were foolish enough to ride into them. More than once I've looked at something, seemingly so close that I could almost touch it, only to realize that to do that I'd need a pair a wings.

If I thought five days ago that the task given to us was going to be tricky, by now I'm feeling almost desperate. We've ridden six days, and could've probably made it in four if rushed. It's anybody's guess how long the journey back will take.

I shake my head to expel the gloomy thoughts, then knot my fingers more tightly to Rogher's belt and lean to side to see better. There is a village to our left, Rogher turns to look at it, too. His eyes are sharp, and when he nods a little to himself, I can guess what's going through his head, for we've both seen the same thing: a small copse of trees between the village and the manor. That is a relief. Our stealthy departure might not be quite that stealthy if the first thing we do is ride through an obviously lively and populous village.

Our horses, seasoned travelers, know what the scent of smoke and dwellings means. Their nostrils widen as they inhale the promise of a stable and fodder and rest, and snorts echo in my ears as their stride gets longer and pace quicker. Their eagerness is contagious, especially as the manor doesn't look all that uninviting any more now that we're closer. Evening is at hand, and in the dusk of high summer we can see light glowing faintly from its windows.

Rogher nudges me with an elbow. "They might even have a minstrel there, don't you think?"

He's right, they well might, and that prospect never fails to brighten my mood. We are close to the crossing of two busy roads and a thriving market town, so it wouldn't be at all strange if some traveling minstrel had decided to liven up the life in an affluent manor. The more I think about it, the likelier it sounds. Rogher chuckles.

"Easy now, Zyan," he says, "let me do the riding, all right?"

"What?"

"Stop spurring this damn beast, that's what!"

"Oh!" I haven't even realized that I've dug my heels into the horse's sides. Rogher laughs aloud.

"Aren't we going fast enough to your tastes?"

"Sorry, sorry..."

Some villagers still working outside stop to look at us as we pass by, shading their eyes with a hand. Rogher grants them a brief nod but the men don't acknowledge them in any way as they ride on, gaze fixed on the manor straight ahead. As we approach at slow trot, someone from inside hurries to open the gate so that we can enter without slowing down.

Tmer Manor looks like a castle on the outside, and it feels like it on the inside, thanks to the stone all around that gives it this peculiar echo. There's stone even underfoot as Rogher lowers me down, and I look around in awe. I hope it also shows on my face because right then I see a tall, grizzled man striding briskly across the yard towards us. This must be old Lord Thonarr himself.

Rogher has dismounted as well and is studying some minor damage to his saddle. He turns around as he notices that I'm looking at something, and when he spots the formidable man, he pulls himself to his full height and bows deep.

"My Lord Thonarr, unless I'm badly mistaken," he says respectfully.

"You are not mistaken, young Knight." The Lord's deep and powerful voice carries a slight wheezy undercurrent. He's a strong man but not in the best of health any more. "And from your colors I can see that you are from Noragayll."

"I am indeed. Knight Rogher-Gamyon is my name, and this minstrel is my friend Zyan Melleth." Rogher peels off one of his gauntlets and fishes Lord Jhorell's letter from the flat satchel fastened to his belt. "I believe this letter will tell you, far better than I could, why my Lord Jhorell has sent us here."

I expect Lord Thonarr to grab the letter and march indoors to have someone read it for him, but instead he examines the seal, then breaks it and squints at the page. All action pauses while he reads it through, nods to himself several times, and finally looks at Rogher over it.

"I trust you are familiar with the contents, Knight Rogher?"

"I am," Rogher says levelly.

"Good. Good. Now, let us get you and your horses accommodated."

A nod makes the servants around us spring into action once more. Grooms come to take care of the horses, and two female servants bid Lord Jhorell's one dozen soldiers to follow them. Lord Thonarr gestures to Rogher and myself and turns around.

"You will have a room in the house," he says, "I'll want to talk this through with you, and of course you also need to meet Inella. First of all, though, you'll want to wash away the journey and then get something to eat."

We're taken to the steaming hot bathhouse before the soldiers get their turn. We know how treacherous that moist heat is, how it bleeds the last strength from your limbs and puts you to sleep before you even properly notice, and thus we nearly scald ourselves in our hurry to get clean and go before it overtakes us. And yet, when we shuffle back to our small but comfortable room, we both have trouble keeping our eyes open. Rogher yawns heartily as he pulls on a fresh shirt, and I laugh at the loud growl of his stomach.

"What, are you hungry?"

"Ravenous, and don't try to tell me you aren't! I've seen how much food you can stuff inside that skinny frame!"

"I'm not even trying to deny it." I show him my teeth while making sure that I have my pouch of flutes at hand. "So, do you think we really meet Lady Inella?"

"And why not? There's no reason why Lord Thonarr would keep her hidden away."

"What if she's pretty?" I tease.

"I hope she is, for Jhorell's sake," Rogher snorts. "I can't imagine agreeing to marry a woman I've never even seen."

"Aren't your people doing it all the time?" I remind him.

"Others may do what they please," Rogher says decisively, "but I'd want to see beforehand what I'm getting, no matter how rich a dowry!"

I laugh. "Oh, you'd want to know that she's terribly ugly so you could be miserable already before you're married?"

"Just shut up, Zyan!" Rogher tightens his belt and yawns again. "Come, let's go before I fall asleep on my feet."

I trot obediently after him. Not very many steps from our door there is a servant who's obviously been placed there to wait for our appearance. He comes to life as soon as he catches sight of us.

"Sir Knight, this way, please. Lord Thonarr is waiting."

He is indeed. The servant takes us to a comfortable chamber, and we both take a deep bow when we spot the old man sitting majestically in a huge, heavy armchair. He nods in response and points us towards a cushioned bench by the wall.

"So," he says, "now you, Knight Rogher, will explain to me Lord Jhorell's designs once again. In your own words, if you please, so that I know you haven't just learned that letter by heart. But first, have something to drink, and I hope you don't mind helping yourselves. I don't want any servants around to listen."

I hurry to fill two tall cups from a jug of ale on the table before sitting down. After a hearty swig Rogher inclines his head and does exactly what he's been asked to, not omitting the less public part of the plan, while I carefully hold my tongue and concentrate on the cool liquid.

Lord Thonarr listens without a word, and when Rogher finally falls silent, he lets out a deep bark of laughter.

"Dangerous in the extreme," he says, "but what else is there to be done when that nuisance Berdar, curse upon him, has no better use for his army or his time than give trouble to others? There's no use waiting it out and hoping he'd grow tired and just leave. There's too much at stake for him to do that."

My heart sinks. I guess I was hoping that he might've had second thoughts?

"I agree, my Lord," Rogher says cautiously. "It is going to be dangerous."

"Yes, but that plan still has a much better chance of succeeding than anything I've managed to come up with." Lord Thonarr twines his fingers together and gives Rogher a square glance. "And you can believe me when I say that it is not for lack of trying! Oh, how I would love to give that scoundrel a round beating on a field of battle, but I need my troops exactly where they are now, and so does your Lord Jhorell. I'm glad he could spare a full dozen men for her retinue."

He sits down in his big chair and sighs, shaking his head. For a moment he looks old and worried, then his face goes stern once more. "Well, it can't be helped. What must be done, must be done, and Inella is fully aware of what lies ahead."

Rogher clears his throat, surprised but also relieved. "We will of course do our utmost to ensure that she gets to Noragayll speedily and safely," he says.

"I have no doubt about that," Lord Thonarr says. "I'm sure that Lord Jhorell has picked his very best man for this task."

My friend squares his shoulders for a question that's no doubt been weighing on his mind even more that it has on mine.

"My Lord, I hope you will forgive me for asking this, but – how well does the Lady ride? I heard from my Lord Jhorell that she knows –"

"Ah," Lord Thonarr says and the corner of his mouth twitches. "You wish to know whether she has ever held the reins of her horse in her own hands?"

"Yes." Rogher's voice is firm. "I hope you forgive me for saying so, but I have seen many things that have been called riding although I wouldn't regal them with such a name."

My guess is that he's recalling the two young ladies of Kevyne. I remember that hunting party, too, where they both were said to be 'riding' with the party, and especially I remember the piercing shriek of horror when the older one's horse attempted a few trotting steps, no doubt inspired by her sister galloping by alongside knights and courtiers in pursuit of a stag.

"Well, let me put your mind at ease. Inella is an accomplished horsewoman. I am not fool enough to agree to something even half this daring if I wasn't sure that she can hold her own on a horse."

"I am much relieved, my Lord, for the countryside around here doesn't look too easy. Even the road is hazardous in places."

"You are right there," the Lord says with a nod. "What is your estimate, how soon will the convoy reach Noragayll?"

"They'll have some heavy carriages so they cannot keep up very quick pace," Rogher states gloomily. He doesn't need to stop and consider, because he's been thinking about this quite enough while riding. "I've stressed it to everybody that it is essential to avoid all delays and keep it as steady as they can, but I'll be much surprised if they can make it in less than eight days."

"You are probably right," Lord Thonarr muses. "And that's several days more than I for one would like, but there you are."

"Just one more thing, my Lord!" Rogher is clearly relieved to find the old man so accommodating. "Of course you have hardly looked at the countryside with the eye of someone who's trying to stay out of sight, but still – in many places the road seemed to be just about the only way to get forward at all. Can you tell me if there are any routes, footpaths or something, that we could use?"

"There are, and even though all these conversations must be kept secret, I have a trusted servant who's able to tell you more about them." The Lord gets up and smiles. "But that'll be tomorrow. Now I have kept you from your dinner quite long enough."

Before pushing the door open he glances at us and adds: "You will of course meet Inella now. I know she's been bored here, especially recently, and she's no doubt most interested to hear more about Noragayll. And I hope we also get to enjoy a real minstrel band, too, now that our own minstrel will have altogether two visitors to play with."

I must be grinning from ear to ear, at least if Rogher's quiet snicker is anything to go by, but I don't care. I'll get to meet my own countrymen!