The Razed Ruins Part I: Ill Tides

Chapter 16.1: Lord Fornes

"I know," he responded truthfully. "But I am full of surprises. Even to myself."

She pierced him with a look of great disappointment. "Right this way," she allowed at last, beckoning to follow her and walking with a speed that belied her five-foot frame. Hagar had to push his bad leg to keep up.

The interior of Lord Fornes's manor was surprisingly elegant compared to the desiccated landscaping outside. His fondness of art was evidenced by the oil paintings, clay pottery and ornate glassware decorating the walls and furnishings. The walls were well-illuminated by abundant oil lamps and torches, and the cool stone kept the tropical heat from outside at bay. The pain in his leg intensifying, Hagar struggled just to keep within sight of Lady Fornes. At last, when it seemed impossible any more hallways could exist, she stopped before a decorative door and waited impatiently for Hagar to catch up. She did not bother to knock before pushing it open.

"My Lord," she said as they entered. "We have a guest." Two steps behind, Hagar Ahnalli laid eyes on the Lord of Fornes for the first time in eight years. The old man sat low in the chair, and his rounded belly preceded him. His kindly face transitioned into something unpleasant as he scrutinized Hagar's dirty accoutrements and unshaven face.

"Hagar Ahnalli," he started. "The Great Cartographer. Or so you like to be called." He addressed Hagar in High Mekisan. Lady Fornes gave her husband a tired look and backed out without a word.

"Aye, my lord, I have drawn some maps, but I don't know about 'great.' Perhaps an addition by others."

"I hate false modesty, Ahnalli. No one is better at fanning their own tinder than you." Hagar ground his teeth. "Let's get on with it, if we shall. To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?"

"I come with tidings from the north and a gift." 

Lord Fornes hissed a laugh. "Gift? What gift could you possibly offer to offset the woes you have brought on my house? I rue the day when I first permitted you to cross my threshold. I pray to the True God I will not also rue today."

Hagar bowed slightly, feeling foolish standing before the lord still in his sea accoutrements. "I cannot undo the past and I'm not proud. All I can do is my best to make it right for the future."

"Right? There is no 'right' with you! Look at you? A bannerless what? Pirate?"

"My Lord!" Hagar exclaimed. "I am no pirate! A merchant from the far north is all, and a cartographer as you said. A simple man."

"Pfft! You're as much a merchant as I am a king! A truth in part since I am a lord, but mostly just a dream. I know the American word for what you are. Need I say it out loud? And in the Dehn, what is it? Tahjadoli? Did I pronounce that right?"

Hagar trembled with anger and—he could admit—a measure of fear too. Being convicted of beig that word was death in Dehn. "Believe what you will, but I am no smuggler. Just a merchant, trading mostly in spices."

Lord Fornes's mouth bent into a knowing smile. "You can't see her. Either of them."

"Don't you care to hear the tidings of the North?"

Lord Fornes shook his head. "I already regret allowing you passage through my gate."

"Gate is it? I am not sure one overweight knight counts as a gate."

"You might find Sir Gorda more formidable than you give him credit. He has a special talent when it comes to gimps."

The rounded man can strike when poked. Hagar let it pass. "The whole of the Americas, it seems, are flooding to either the White City or The Pike. It is the 300th anniversary of the birth of the great Union."