Lauki's Arc

Chapter 14 of 18

Lauki rode from the temple with the fey ring warm in his fist. He had the token now. But he looked down at himself and saw mud on his boots, a torn cloak, a shirt gray with road dust. He carried a jewel no lord could match, and he looked like a beggar who had stolen it. Conrad's court would laugh him out the door. Worse, they would laugh at Torra. He needed to appear like a lord, and he had no coin for that either. He turned his horse toward a stone cabin he knew, its walls thick with moss and climbing vines. Smoke rose from the chimney. Krag Ironskull lived here, a cyclops who stood no taller than a man but wide as a door, packed with muscle. His single red eye had watched Lauki's back through worse days than this. A black mohawk cut down the center of his pale skull. He was sharpening a great axe when Lauki knocked. "You look like a corpse the swamp spat out," Krag said. He did not stop sharpening. "I need to look like a lord by tomorrow," Lauki said. "I'm asking a suitor's court for Torra's hand. If I come dressed like this, I shame her." Krag set down the axe. He looked Lauki over, from the horns to the ruined boots. "You came to the right door." "You have noble clothes?" "I keep things people leave behind." Krag went to a chest against the wall and lifted the lid. He drew out a long coat of black silk. Green and purple leaves twined up its sleeves. A silver clasp held the collar. He laid it across his broad arms like something living. "A fey lord wore this once. He owed me. He paid with this instead of his life." Lauki touched the cloth. It was cool and dark, soft as shadow. "This fits a suitor's court." "It fits a suitor with your blood," Krag said. "Fey work. It won't tear. It won't stain. Won't shame the one you're asking for." Lauki pulled the road-worn shirt over his head and dressed. The silk settled against him like it knew his shape. He fastened the clasp at his throat. When he turned, Krag studied him a long moment. "Now you look like the one who slew the Rose Lord," Krag said. "Not the one who ran from the swamp." "What do I owe you?" Krag picked up his axe again. "A warlord's raiding the hill villages. I told folk I'd kill him before the new moon. Now I have to." He tested the edge with his thumb. "You owe me a blade when I call. Fire and all." Lauki nodded. "When you call, I come." He rode out at dawn in black silk, the ring at his belt and a lord's bearing on his shoulders. He no longer looked like a beggar. He looked like a suitor Conrad's court would have to face.