Lineage (Book 3 of the Torrent Skies Saga)

Chapter Nine: Invisible Ink

Fykes grinned and patted Ahlindrion's hilt on his side. "And I look too old to be an apprentice." He was the only one of them in his normal attire, armor, weapons, cloak and traveling pack in place, with his hair tied up loosely behind his ears. Katerin envied his comfort as she considered her skirt. Brazen was not the only one unhappy with his required apparel.

The skirt was made for travel, but Katerin knew that both running in fighting in such a thing was a difficult endeavor. She missed her leggings and her boots, and her comfortable tunics.

Brazen put up his hands. "I don't think I look that young. You said yourself that I am technically older than all of you combined."

"You look as if your mother just cut you from the apron straps last month," Arjiah said. "We know different, but it's better to let people assume whatever they will."

Katerin looked to Arjiah, and the woman showed her the dagger hilt she had hidden amongst her dress, with a wink. Katerin had a similar one, though she was unsure what it might do to aid her, should the guards realize her tricks.

While one on one, Katerin was sure she could win, though she very much doubted that the whole of the city guard would not pin her down. The soldiers of Hearth-Home were excellent fighters, their only downfall was the fact that they did not think on their own. In a small skirmish this was Katerin's advantage, but if she was to be chased, it was surely theirs.

As they came under the shadow of the gates, Katerin walked forward as though she was returning home with an eager joy in her steps. And it was not all that hard to feign, as she did feel a small amount of joy, rebuked as it was by the nervousness clawing at her stomach.

There were several more soldiers around then what she had expected—thirty or more–and many crowds of people with wagons, horses, and packs. Most looked like merchants, some were only family's, but all of them were only allowed to pass, after speaking with the guards. Here we go, she thought.

She put on her best look of concern and waited.

The line moved slowly, but they were here early, and so it was not long before a guard approached. She would have said a prayer, had she been a pious woman. When the guards turned attention to her, she smiled warmly to them, and waited for them to address her.

"State your name, business, and the names of your companions," the guard said, taking stock of her appearance with a pair of keen blue eyes.

Katerin could smell the faint sulfurous aroma from the armor he wore, and she knew exactly why such a smell pervaded him. The power of a dragons scales never faded, so the scholars said. "Nessia De'vrin," she answered, "Behind me is my apprentice Deurnot Keyquen," she gestured to Brazen, who put on his best youthful smile. "Gaelia Frerir, a close friend," she gestured to Arjiah. "And Stefan Greran, my hired guard." Katerin fought back momentary panic as she spoke. In all her haste, she had forgotten to settle on an alias for Fykes. She and Arjiah had suggested several, but none of them seemed fitting, and the topic had been lost in travel.

The guard looked over at Fykes, eyes narrowing. "Stefan? You're the twentieth Stefan this month."

Fykes smiled, "Well, if anything about me should be common, I suppose I should be blessed that it be my name."

The guard turned back to Katerin. "De'vrin, you said?"

She nodded. "I am returning to visit my family."

"You picked a dangerous time, lady, but I'm sure your family will be glad to see you well."

Fykes passed Katerin a stressed look, that seemed to ask why she had chosen a name linked to nobility. The De'Vrin's were not the highest class, but they had plenty of friends within the city.