The Banished of Muirwood(11)

She tried a subtle tactic. “I was not expecting to find one who speaks Pry-rian,” she said in that language. It rolled off her tongue, and she watched as his eyes widened with surprise. A twitch on his mouth started, and then he was grinning fully.

“Nor was I, lass,” he replied in kind, bowing his head to her. He slammed his fist onto the table, jarring the tray and scattering some of its contents. “By Cheshu!” he roared, laughing so hard it shook the room. “When I awoke this morning, I was the only man within three hundred leagues who could speak my mother tongue. How I miss hearing it! Who are you, my lady?” He leaned forward in his chair, his eyes piercing hers. “You do not have the look of Pry-Ree, though you speak the tongue true as any lass born and bred there.”

She stared into his eyes and took his measure. If she wanted to earn this man’s trust and respect, she decided, she needed him to understand the fullness of her plight. Threats would not work. While she had wanted to keep her identity a secret, she felt that trusting another foreigner, a man from Pry-Ree, might be possible, particularly since the Medium seemed to have brought them together.

She decided to trust him.

“I am Marciana Soliven,” she announced softly, causing the kishion to hiss in surprise and alarm. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her muscle.

“Are you now?” Jon Tayt said, clearly astonished by her candor. He started to chuckle again, shaking his head in wonder. “Lady Maia of Comoros. The banished princess.” His words were spoken softly, with an echo of sympathy. He shook his head again, leaning back away from his chair, and folded his arms. “I barely recognized you, you look so terrible.”

“Have we met?” Maia asked, her interest piqued.

“You would not remember me, as you were just a little wisp of girl yourself at the time. Your father sent you to settle border disputes between Comoros and Pry-Ree when you were a wee child. Everyone knew of you by reputation, but I also saw you occasionally. At the time, I was often surveying lands for those border disputes . . . or helping enforce them afterward, sometimes with an axe or an arrow.”

“So you were a hunter for the King of Pry-Ree?”

He snorted and waved his hand. “No, I work for hire. Usually for lesser nobles or people with means. I cannot guard my tongue. I say the truth regardless of who it hurts, so no king ever secures my services for long. Most noble folk are pure and utter fools, and I tend to despise them.”

“I value loyalty and someone who speaks the truth.”

“Yes, but even the best men grow weary of my stories,” he said with a smile free of self-consciousness. “As I recall, you settled those complaints fairly, if a bit ignorantly. At least you were equal in your treatment of Pry-rian claims and those of your own countrymen, who lied and tried to deceive you as much as we did. It was never clear which side you would favor, but you did gain a reputation for fairness, my lady.” His eyes narrowed. “When your father . . . when he did what he did, those border disputes became tangled again. I pitied you. I grew sick of the whole business and ventured away.”

“This is quite far from Pry-Ree, Jon Tayt. Why did you come?”

“I told you I am a blunt man. I wanted nothing to do with intrigues or broken oaths. I traveled about as far away as I could imagine going and ended up in the hinterlands of the civilized world. Welcome to Argus hamlet, Lady Maia! I named it after my hound over there. The lazy cur.”

“After your hound?” Maia asked, a smile beginning to stir on her lips. He was a gruff and opinionated fellow, but already she liked him.

“Seemed a suitable name at the time since we were the first ever to live here. I built this hovel and most of the others when others chose to join me.” He leaned forward and placed his hands flat on the table. “You realize that Dahomey is not a safe haven for one of your blood. Your kingdom is at war with every other nation that upholds the doctrines of the Dochte Mandar.”

“I am very aware of that fact, yes.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Yes. Here I am.”

“How can I serve you, Lady Maia?” He leaned forward and the chair squealed under his weight.

“I am not looking for a servant, Jon Tayt. You said yourself you want nothing to do with kings and intrigues.”

“Where are you bound, lass?”

Somehow, Maia felt she could trust the hazel eyes that stared down at her. The Medium had brought her to Argus. It had led her to this man.

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. “Can I trust you, Jon Tayt?”

He stroked his pointed beard and then scratched the fleshy underside of his chin. It made a raspy sound. His eyes turned stormy as he rested his hands on his belly. “I have no love for your father. I have no love for any man. Whether or not you choose to trust me is entirely up to you.”