Spin Offs, Grange Part c
The night remained pleasant despite a cool breeze, Kallen was a pale green smudge near the horizon to the northeast, Masri was high in the sky, a waning half moon partially obscured by building cloud cover blowing in from the north. He had made his way back across town and had not noticed anyone following him until he reached Ox Lane Bridge. The town bridges were lit with small lamps at either end and with the exception of the few tavern doors, these bridge lamps were the town’s only regular night lighting. After crossing Ox Lane Bridge, Grange heard someone following along behind, though they made no effort to sneak up on him.
Grange made it back to the Wikkersak Couch and Courier building; two large barns, farrier and a small warehouse with his office. Dorn was there waiting for him, looking a bit tense, “What’s going on boss? Trouble?”
Grange lit another lamp and set it on the desk to one side and gestured for Dorn to pull up a chair. He took out the paperwork he had done earlier for Dorn, “These are an account of the assets of Wikkersak Coach and Courier, this is a will designating you as intern boss and heir should I or none of my family return within a year.”
Dorn gave him a surprised look then took the proffered papers and looked them over, “Is this to do with the Roburns warehouse fire in, Calameer?”
Grange shrugged that off and instead said, “I’ll be taking the family to Darner’s Hold to visit my kin there. In case we do not return or something unfortunate happens to us, I did not want the Lord of the Eastern Reach to scoop everything up and leave the rest of you destitute.”
“Well, this is all a bit unexpected.”
“Sure it is. A bit sudden for us as well, but I’m sure you can handle things. You know the business. The biggest problem you may have in the short and mid term is not enough teamsters. Long term issue, if we don’t return, of a reliable second. I’d not recommend Palk.”
They both had a chuckle over that. Palk was strong and good with the horses but he tended towards laziness if left to his own devices and his sense of people and situations was generally a bit off.
“What about Roburns Trading Company?”
“Do what you have to do. They’ve been set back with the loss of the warehouse in Calameer, but that only bought us a bit of time. Roburns Trading Company is too big just to fade away. Not to mention their recent property acquisitions here in Wikkersak.”
Dorn gave a disgruntled snort, “It’s a lot of ifs and maybes. But I do appreciate your trust and will keep things together until your return.”
“Thank you Dorn, that’s all I can ask.” Grange stood up and came around the table and offered his hand to Dorn.
Dorn stood and shook his hand, “Good luck with your trip home, I hope all goes well.”
“We’ll see. Here’s the key to the lock-box, plenty of weight for operations and wages.”
“Thank you, Grange.”
Grange gave a quick nod, slapped Dorn on the shoulder, “I have to head out, don’t forget to snuff the lamps before you leave.”
“Sure boss, safe travels.”
Grange headed for home and not too long after he left his business he was aware of a couple of people following him. As he came up to Ox Lane Bridge he could see a trio standing in the lamp light on the far side and the people behind him closed quickly after he had stepped onto the bridge. He moved towards the centre of the bridge as one of the men on the far end moved to intercept him. He stopped and the marshal walked up to within a couple of paces, he seem unarmoured but his broadsword hung at his side.
Grange gave a polite nod, “Marshal. Good evening.”
“Grange.” A moment of silence passed between them, the sound of the Wikkersak Brook bubbling below them and frog song were the only intrusions.
The marshal let the silence stretch out, his hand stayed clear of his weapon, then he finally spoke, “I’ve had word of my son’s death.”
Grange remained silent. Those that had followed him from his office had remained at that end of the bridge. It did not seem like he would be cut down tonight.
The marshal continued, “As well, Tialla Magon and four others, all slain near the western border, within sight of one of Lord Sharlok’s towers.”
Grange asked, “Tialla Magon? Daughter of the Lord of the Eastern Reach?”
“Yes Grange, the same. I’d like to know what you know about this.”
“I’d heard your son had been slain, the death of Lady Magon is news to me.”
“You were in the Western Reach a few days ago. Are you telling me you have no news related to this.”
“No sir. I no longer travel out to the western border, Roburns offers a cheaper fair and carries on through, all the way to GreensBridge. I stopped competing on that route and change my focus more towards the in-hold routes, near two years back now. If I reckon the timing correctly I was likely closing in on Bowder when all this went down. I wish I could be of more assistance, Marshal.”
“I’ve had word that your niece was out that way and may have had something to do with the fire in Calameer.”
“She was travelling west, but she was in the company of one of the Roburn agents, a Mr Hollen from High Fort, I believe. They seemed to be getting along well enough.”
“My son seemed to have been under the impression that she, with your help, smuggled a couple of thieves out of Wikkersak.”
“Marshal, you should know me better than that. I’ve no time for thieves, nor liars.”
The Marshal tensed and his hand drifted towards the hilt of his weapon, then stopped short. Grange was on the verge of snatching his own weapon from its sheath. The sudden dangerous tension between the two men caused the marshal’s guards at either end of the bridge to shift about uneasily.
Cold rain gently fell from the night sky. The frogs went quiet.
The moment passed, the marshal relaxed, then continued, “Very well Grange. I trust if you do hear news of these events you would let me know.”
“Of course Marshal.”
Grange felt relief as the danger seemed to pass. Then the Marshal raised a hand with a letter of some sort held forward, “There was another matter I was hoping you could help me with.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve a summons from Lord Sharlok, to be delivered to Dame Andisal Morro of Lekas. One of my men also noted that you and your family seem to be planning a trip. Would you be heading eastward?”
“Yes, Marshal. The plan was to head out early tomorrow and we would be heading east. My kin in Darner’s Hold have not met my family here. I thought it was time for that to be rectified.”
“Could you see this delivered to that woman? I seem to recall you have a bit of history with her.”
“I do. As you know Marshal, she and I fought for the same side during Natareen Ghoulst’s rebellion.”
“I’d not forgotten Grange. Nor have I forgot what you did at Lake Nayawhe. Who could?”
Grange was not fond of the memories of the day in question but was acutely aware that event, nearly fifteen years back, was likely the reason the Marshal had held off on trying to put him in a cage.
“I’d be happy to deliver Lord Sharlok’s message to her.”
“Good, glad to hear it. We all have to do our part for the well being of the hold. Enjoy the trip with your family.”
The Marshal gathered his guards, they departed towards the south of the city. Grange, placed the Lord’s letter under his tunic then headed home.
—
The next morning they were on the road shortly after sunrise, the guards on the east gate did not even stop them on the way out. Grange rode on his horse while his eldest handled the carriage, the other riding horse trailing the carriage on a short lead with some of the extra supplies.
The day was already quite warm with the promise of a hotter afternoon. Grange wondered if he and his family would ever return to Wikkersak. He worried about the news from home, more than he was concerned about the type of greeting he might receive from some of his family. Not all of them had been happy with his decision to leave the hold, to find a new life.
He also wondered what kind of message he carried to Andisal.
He knew war was coming, and though yesterday he had not had to fight, he knew that soon he would be unable to avoid it.
Leave a Reply