Page 128 of Lake of Sorrow

“Vlerion and who?” The king looked blearily around.

Kaylina resisted the urge to shrink back or hide behind Vlerion. She hadn’t expected the taybarri to mention her, certainly not by name.

Petalira frowned at her again. “Continue, please,” she told Seerathi.

Usually, the elders, having grown less aggressive and muscled than our vigorous youth, do not involve themselves in the battles between men and men or men and the Kar’ruk, but, as an anrokk with excellent honey, Korbian swayed us to listen to her plea.

Petalira’s lips pressed together as she probably thought about how Kaylina’s excellent honey had been turned into poisoned mead.

Not by my hand, Kaylina wanted to shout, but she kept her mouth shut. Nobody had brought that up yet. The taybarri probably didn’t even know about it.

We came, not to do battle, but to make sure the truth of history is known to all who are now fighting over the right to dwell upon this land.

“What truth of history?” Petalira asked.

The Kar’ruk female leader also asked something but in her own tongue.

Seerathi must have understood both languages, because she continued on without trouble. As all are likely aware, the Daygarii traveled all through these mountains and this coastal land, interacting with nature and leaving their magical mark on the flora. They also left a few traps and warnings. They did not, however, ever claim ownership of these lands. They commanded only that the handful of preserves they left behind be undisturbed by hunters so that the animals and plants living within could thrive.

What is less known is that our people once lived in this area. When our numbers were greater, we even claimed this land. What you now call Frost Harbor was a favorite fishing place of ours. We burrowed many tunnels on either side of what you call the Stillguard River. It was, to our people, the Salmon Spawning Pathway—Erestu.

Covetous of the salmon and the easier hunting south and west of the mountains, the Kar’ruk desired this area for themselves. They attacked our people in a season when we were weakened from a disease that plagued our kind. They took advantage, driving us to the south, and they invaded not only the land above but the tunnels where we’d once raised our cubs. That is where they built their catacombs, bricking in what was dirt but which our people had nonetheless created and used for millennia. They occupied these lands until the human gold mining started, and many Zaldorians came to this place and eventually drove out the Kar’ruk. As you recall, our kind aided humans in this endeavor, also desiring to see the Kar’ruk pushed back. Seerathi gazed over at the diplomatic party. We have heard that the Kar’ruk are attempting to claim a right to the catacombs and the land above them, but this all belonged to our kind before theirs. If we are allowing that claims may be made based on prior occupation, then our claim precedes theirs. They have no right to the mouth of the Stillguard River nor the valleys to the north and south.

One of the Kar’ruk females said something belligerent. Surprisingly, the other female at her side grimaced and whispered something to her. Did she know the truth of the matter?

Should you venture deeply into the Kar’ruk catacombs and dig, you would find the bones of our ancestors, for we once also used the passageways near the river for burial.

One of the females prodded a male Kar’ruk, the one who spoke Zaldorian. “We believe these statements are made in error, but we will return to our lands to consult with our chiefs and religious leaders on this matter.”

Vlerion snorted. “After their invasion attempt, they ought to be put to death. Had we done the same to them, our diplomatic party would already be dead.”

That might have been true, but the spymaster nodded to the king again, and Gavatorin spoke.

“We will allow the Kar’ruk diplomatic party to return to their lands. Those who have fallen here… their bodies may be taken for your funeral rituals if you wish, and the wounded will be returned to you. Our lenience is only because…” He’d spoken firmly to start with but trailed off, uncertainty wrinkling his brow.

The queen looked at her husband, but maybe she didn’t know the answer either. It was an aide who leaned closer to the king’s back and mouthed what looked like, “Virts,” to him.

“Our lenience,” Gavatorin repeated, “is only because we believe your plot was at least partially instigated by a human element who made promises to lure you here. They are a power-hungry and conniving group who seek to overthrow the throne, and they will be punished for their traitorous ways. Should the Kar’ruk step into our lands again, they will be ruthlessly slain by our mighty rangers.” The king looked toward Targon and seemed to include Vlerion in the nod he gave.

Kaylina hoped that no suspicion clung to them, that the crown hadn’t taken any stock in the newspapers the Virts had been printing. The king, she recalled, had already known Vlerion’s secret.

The Kar’ruk grumbled to themselves, then gathered their dead and headed for the gates. The tight-jawed guards there, many of whom had suffered injuries, didn’t step aside immediately.

Only when the king said, “Let them pass,” did the glowering men move to do so.

At a finger twitch from the spymaster, numerous guards joined the group, making it clear they would escort the Kar’ruk out of the city—if not out of the kingdom entirely.

As the last of the party passed through the gates, Petalira’s gaze shifted back to the taybarri and rangers, settling on Vlerion and Kaylina. Her eyes were cool.

Kaylina tensed, afraid Petalira was about to sic the guards on her. Why had Kaylina so foolishly followed the rangers and taybarri into the castle? It wasn’t as if the handful of lead rounds she’d flung had swayed the battle. Nor had she ever believed anything she could do would. Not here, anyway. If she’d been at Stillguard Castle with the plant, she might have convinced it to help, but she doubted it could, even invigorated with honey water, shoot its power across the city to take down foes.

The queen opened her mouth, but someone whispered something from the doorway of the balcony, and she turned before speaking. The ranger that Targon had given a folded paper to was up there, escorted by two guards. He bowed to the queen as he handed her the note and pointed at Targon.

Vlerion looked to his captain, eyebrows raised, but Targon merely folded his arms over his chest again and waited. The queen opened the paper and read whatever was inside.

“Not a love letter, I trust,” Kaylina muttered.

Targon squinted at her and gave Vlerion one of his I’m-still-waiting-for-you-to-instill-reverence-in-her frowns.

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