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Four nervous men sat in the Dew Valley manor’s study that sunny autumn morning as Bulgarth made them go through the plan for the tenth time, worrying over any missed details. There had been no mention of Sheorl’s daughter to anyone else in the household to avoid inquisitive questions since they felt that seeing Cassia in the flesh would help reduce the talk of her existence. Bulgarth stood up and stretched his arm back. “It is settled then. Sheorl remember to act your usual self.” “hmmm?”, a puzzled grunt came from the giant. Bulgarth explained, “You usually talk very little. Don’t become talkative just because you think it will help with the plan, because it may not.” Sheorl grunted. Frad chipped in, “If anyone asks the next morning, act guilty.” Hymae laughed but Sheorl was not pleased. Three clangs from the time-keeper echoed through the manor which meant that Sheorl would need to leave soon. In Netherweld, time was measured by works and in Dew Valley’s case this was kitchen work, since it was the first place where the day started. One clang meant the cook was up, while two was for breakfast and three meant the start of a workday. In a town community the time-keeper would be sounded in the home of the elected resident. This was so that everyone could start their day at the same time. It did have hilarious consequences though, since a person could oversleep once in a while. Imagine a whole community not starting a morning because the time-keeper sounder had a late night. Sheorl walked out of the study. Halfway down the corridor, he turned and climbed the service staircase. He listened for a while outside his bedroom door, then he gave his usual soft knock, lifted the handle and walked in. Cassia was sitting on the floor in front of the window as usual, reading a book in the sunlight. Her quietness never ceased to amaze him, no wonder Luwie thought she was a ghost. She turned her face to look at him. He smiled, walked towards her and patted her head. It made him feel ridiculous sometimes, but that was how he thought fathers were supposed to behave. “All this hiding will be over by tomorrow child. I hope you will be patient until then.” “I will be quiet, father.” Sheorl’s smile broadened, being called father somehow warmed his heart. That part of the plan was becoming more and more to his liking everyday. He reminded himself to keep a sharp eye on Bulgarth, for she was after all only fifteen. Sheorl took his night bag from the floor and noted that she put a cap in for him. He grunted his approval and saw the relief on her face. He kissed her forehead then walked out of the room, making sure that the door was shut tight behind him. In the kitchen, Chaeno, the manservant was getting last minute instructions from the cook. “Good morning Sheorl. I need to rush back with some of the things the manor need, I hope you can finish your business on time.” “You don’t have to wait for me. I will come back tomorrow on my own.” “You plan to spend the night in Monqui?” The curious question was answered with a grunt that made Chaeno think better of asking more. Sheorl walked out the back door where a wagon and horse waited to take the two men to town. Right after the giant had climbed onto the passenger seat, the kitchen door banged open and slammed shut as Merlana ran out. “You did not say goodbye.” She pouted. “I will be back tomorrow.” His heart went out to her as he recalled that two years ago her parents had left for the market early, and had not return. Sheorl knew that she tried hard not to be silly, after all not everyone who rode through the cliff path on wagons would meet with tragic accidents. “I will be back tomorrow around late breakfast,” Sheorl said. “Stay out of trouble till then.” Merlana gave a brave laugh. “Of course I will behave myself. I already promised you. I never break any of my promises to you.” “That is true.” He smiled down gently at her. This was the scene that the manservant chanced upon when he came out of the kitchen. A gentle faced bodyguard smiling down at the upturned flushed face of a teenager. He marveled at the sight for almost everyone he knew was terrified of the giant. Then Sheorl looked at him and his gentle face turned hard. “Come Chaeno, the sun climbs fast over the horizon.” “Yes, yes, I am coming now.” Chaeno scrambled up the wagon and took the reins into his hands. Just a light flick and the horse started their journey at a fast pace. As they passed the simple homes of Dew Valley workers, surprised faces turned to watch Sheorl going out without Merlana. Chaeno was nervous the whole time. Usually he would ride alone to town, and would greet passersby noisily and if no one was about, he would whistle or sing loudly to himself. That day he dared not do any of these. Though he moved the wagon at a fast pace, the ride was the longest one he ever took. Finally they approached the wide cliff path with its steep side. Sheorl glared upon the road as though it was a murderer. There were a few witnesses who claimed to have seen Bremargh's accident, but Sheorl knew the horse pulling the wagon. Short-ear was not a young frisky horse that would run amuck and jump off a cliff, he was very manageable. He reminded himself to move Bremargh’s documents to somewhere safe. Chaeno was relieved when he saw the township ahead as the brooding mood of his companion was sending chills up and down his spine. Sheorl broke the silence the moment they crossed the wooden bridge, “Put me down at Clover’s Inn.” “Aye, Clover’s it is.” Chaeno maneuvered the wagon deftly through the vehicle crowded street towards the inn. Before he could offer a helping hand, Sheorl was already off with a wave and a night bag slung over his shoulder. The innkeeper, Hotpan, was surprised to see the giant in his establishment and threw wide both well-fed arms out in greeting, “Why Sheorl, this is very unexpected.” Hotpan was five foot six but his heavy legs and round stomach made him look shorter. A wide smile flashed through his black haired and bearded face. “I need a room for tonight.” “You are traveling somewhere?” “No, I have to meet the morning boat tomorrow.” Hotpan had been his friend from before he had the inn, when he first got his nickname from serving the best piping hot meat roast in town on oven pans. “Well, let me show you to your room then. You must join me for lunch today.” The innkeeper turned to one of his workers, a simple-minded youth, “Giol, get cook to ready hearty lunches for three hungry men in the private parlor.” He watched the boy for a while to make sure that he had gone straight to the kitchen to do as instructed. “Three, you are that hungry?” Sheorl commented. Hotpan laughed, “Cook knows my appetite well. The extra plate is for Viggo.” The innkeeper showed him to a low room with a big long bed. Grubby fingers held up the room key as Hotpan said, “You may need this.” Sheorl grunted and took the key from him just as he bustled out of the room. Sheorl put his bag down on the wooden floor and fished out a partially carved small block of hardwood from his bag. He had carved a knife handle for Merlana, then Sarah, now he was carving one for his foster daughter. The giant sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the window with the wood in one hand and a carving knife in the other. He smiled again as he recalled that Cassia also liked to sit in front windows. The peace and quiet allowed him to do much work. He was almost done, when he heard the noon-time clang from the township’s time-keeper. Sheorl stood up and patted himself down. He locked the room and made his way downstairs towards the private parlor. There was another man sitting at the table. The giant called out, “Viggo, I am glad to see that you are the third lunch partner.” “I did not believe Hotpan when he told me that you were here. You are getting adventurous my friend.” Sheorl laughed, “There has not been much reason for me to come to town, other than when the girls are here.” Hotpan came in at that point, followed by Giol and a maid, both of whom bore trays laden with food. The two men looked appreciatively at the meal served to them. There was freshly baked wheat bread, corn on the cob with melting butter and roast beef slices with wonderful smelling gravies. On separate plates were baked golden potatoes, boiled vegetables and slices of fresh tomatoes. The cook wanted to add soup, but Hotpan did not believe that soups were manly servings, so that was out. But two jugs of ale were in. Once the two workers had closed the door, Hotpan leaned forward and said, “Dunwood came by this morning and left a wagon for you. Humph, the thing even came with a horse. You are taking someone back?” “My daughter,” Sheorl said. Both men knew him long enough to know that he was lying. They understood his reasons though for many had been helped by those in Dew Valley, including Hotpan whose mother had once worked in Hallskein Castle. She saw Hastire’s step-cousin, Hamlin, throw a woman's body into the river moat and when he spotted her, she became terrified for her life. She was lucky to be a lowly maid and not worth his attention, else he would have known where to find her. Leaving all her meager possessions behind, she escaped into the forest the moment she found her sixteen-year-old boy. Some months later they were found by villagers patrolling the estate borders. The men and women took them to hide in Dew Valley. Nana had taken up the task to apprentice young Hotpan and he was a most diligent student. When he became confident with his skills, Bremargh loaned him money to open his own establishment. By then he was twenty-two, with a light beard and quite a lot of weight around his belly. He was very different from the boy who ran away from Hallskein. His mother continued to stay in Dew Valley, while young Hotpan went into town. Before long his establishment became famous for good food and good ale. It only took him two years to repay Bremargh his debt. Hamlin did come to his establishment often, not realizing that many a time the owner had wanted to poison his ale. But Hymae had the wiser plan. He advised Hotpan to encourage Hamlin to come, for the man boast much after his second pint. With this new way of revenge open to him, the innkeeper became the best proprietor in town to those from Hallskein. He treated them like royalty, and for that he was considered as an ally by his enemies. While Hotpan poured a second round of ale, Viggo said, “Hastire and his men are scouring the countryside. All the dark haired girls of around fourteen to seventeen had been brought forward to him. It is a good thing that he is looking for one in particular else I fear for these children.” Sheorl chewed on the beef, no longer tasting it, “My daughter is dark haired.” Viggo and Hotpan now understood why he was there. To ensure that they got the story right, Hotpan asked, “You never talk of your child Sheorl, where is she from?” “Her mother is from Kalimy, she is fifteen. She will be staying with me at Dew Valley.” “What happened to the mother?” Viggo asked.
Sheorl gave him a blank look, Viggo laughed, “All right then, if you will not tell, then we will not ask. She must be some lady who does not wish for her identity to be known.” Sheorl smiled, thankful for the idea that the hunter gave him. Hotpan changed the conversation, “Hamina was here yesterday. I swear that it took me a whole afternoon to air the inn after she left. She seemed extremely pleased about something, though I cannot tell what. A law implementer, the notary and registrar of lands were here too, having brunch with her. She pulled me aside and warned me not to tell anyone about her meal partners.” Sheorl rubbed his chin, “A pity Hymae is not here today. The notary likes being seen together with him. It should be easy to make him boast about one or two feats to our red- head.” “Yes, that is curious,” Viggo mused, “Hymae is only a secretary in Dew Valley manor, though he may manage a huge estate. I wonder why the notary holds him in such high esteem.” Hotpan made a grimace, “Frad and Hymae are both not-so-young handsome bachelors. They attract women like ripe meat attract flies, though if I were a lass I would find Hymae a little too pale.” They all laughed at the notion. Hotpan continued, “The notary has no common ground with Frad, but he can talk about the law and letters with Hymae. Having a group of young women listening when they make such conversation makes him feel as though he has gained their high regard. Poor delusional fool.” Sheorl grunted, “There should be some woman who would be willing to marry him for his estate.” Viggo gave a snort, “What estate? Every woman in this town works well enough to afford whatever he now owns. He thinks too highly of himself. Can you imagine, he only deals with clients of a certain class? How much estate do you think he would collect from that?” Hotpan laughed, “Ha, ha, leave the poor chap be. He will get his due soon enough be it good or bad, like the rest of us.” Thick dark clouds gathered, flashing lightning within their folds. Then big raindrops fell and increased the din. Hastire hated the sound of thunder, for it reminded him of the sound of a collapsing mine. He was with his father and his step-cousin Hamlin during the old man’s last visit to the mine in Basten. Lord Hasford was particularly proud of this coal mine. Hastire was twenty then and he remembered the stinking tunnels and the filthy slaves who were moving up and down the shafts with heavy burdens on their backs. Added to that, the sound of pickaxes hammering against the tunnel walls made him feel dizzy. He was glad when at one point Hamlin turned to his father and said, “Step-Uncle, you must excuse me. I am not feeling over comfortable right now, and request for your permission to go outside.” Hasford laughed, “You will have to learn to get use to this if you ever intend to be an administrator of my mines. How else would you find out that my slaves are being fully utilized?” Hastire was at a lost over whether to leave with his cousin or not, his pride after all got in the way. A little later he thought the better of it, after all he had stayed a little longer than Hamlin. “Father, I am hungry. I think I will go up, before Hamlin finishes everything in the food basket.” His father was pleased to hear him say that, for his son had given him face by not appearing cowardly before his men, “Go then son, feed your growing frame. Make sure you both leave something for me to eat too.” Hastire shrugged and turned back down the tunnels. One of the guards showed him the way out. He held his breath and gave a wide berth each time a grime covered slave passed. An echo, then a roar shook the passage behind him. Terror gripped his heart and Hastire ran. Smoke and dust came up to him then spread over and ahead of him. He jostled against many workers as he ran, no longer caring about them contaminating his clothes. His lungs screamed for fresh air and he pumped his legs as hard as he could towards the bright light ahead. He stumbled into a riot outside the mine, and not much sweet air. Dust, kicked by men and beasts, rose from the dry ground as slaves who ran too far were lassoed with ropes like cattle. Hastire chocked, he needed water, fresh water to wash down the filth. He coughed and coughed, trying to get rid of the dust in his lungs. He turned his face away from the mine and saw Hamlin watching with shocked eyes from a distance, away from the dust. That was what thunderstorms reminded him of. The filthy mine, the filthy slaves, the dust choked air. He also felt a pang of regret for the lost of his father. The tunnel Hasford inspected had caved in and everyone in it was crushed to death. Collapsing was not an unusual thing for a mine to do, and that was why Hastire never went into another mine again. The full management of these operations had now fallen on Hamlin. Hastire looked out his bedroom window and wondered where Cassia was. She had been missing for over a week. A knock disturbed his thoughts. “Yes!” The captain of his guards opened the door and stepped in. “The last of the spies have reported in my lord. There is no news of anything unusual in any of their areas.” “They must have slept through the night and did not hear the watchtower gong. It is impossible for her to disappear just like that. She is only a child.” The captain returned his glowering stare with a blank face. Then Hastire continued, “She must be hiding somewhere. Tell your men to search Byway and Kessa’s farmsteads again. Those are the nearest places to where we lost her.” As the captain turned to go out to do his bidding, Hastire called out, “Wait.., Bastam Estate. The border is next to the Olin field. Someone from there could have easily been on the field that night.” “Our spy in that place reported that nothing was amiss that night, my lord.” “Anyone could be bought you fool. You think these men work for me because of loyalty, no they work for money. Tell all my spies that a big reward will be given to the one who finds her.” The captain bowed, and walked out of the room. Hastire continued to stare outside, the storm being no longer foremost in his mind. In Clover’s Inn, Hotpan went about preparing for the first of his evening customers. There was much meat to roast, and he had to check that the wines were properly chilled and in addition to that Betain had sent over fresh barrels of ale very late in the day. He expected many travellers who wished to catch the early boat to the Wetlands to take abode in the inn that night. The boat only came twice a week, moving upriver on Wednesays and returning to the capital city and Kalimy on Saturdays. Hotpan looked out his window at the relentless rain. He had to shout louder than usual at his half-deaf cook. He reminded Giol to have a mop and bucket ready at all times because the floor would be muddy and wet from the boots of his customers. The first of his guest could be heard outside so Hotpan bustled out to the lobby to greet them. He was surprised to see Hamlin. A head shorter than Hastire, it was obvious that the excesses in his life had taken their toll on his body. He was not fat, but the habitual ale drinking had formed a belly which looked quite out of place on him. His face also wore a permanent sarcastic sneer, the effect of too many near missed opportunities in life. Now his thick brown hair now hung limp and trickled water over his face. Other than those shortcomings, he was a comely man. Hotpan called out, “Well good evening, sir. Your visit gives honor to my establishment.” The men with Hamlin stomped in their wet muddy boots without first scrubbing them on the coarse mat outside. Hotpan would have to make it up to Giol some other day, and he hoped that the simple minded boy would stay out of their way else he might end up becoming their sport for the night. Hamlin threw himself on one of the empty seats in the tavern and his companions sat around the same or adjacent tables. “Confounded rain, Hotpan.., I heard Betain sent some new ale over.” “Yes he did indeed. I swear that you have some of the best informers around.” The innkeeper jested in return. “Aye, that I do have. The same man told me that the giant Sheorl was here this morning.” “That is true. We had a very hearty lunch together. Ha ha ha.”, Hotpan looked up and signaled at his maid, “Dulia, bring new ales here for all these guests. And tell cook that Master Hamlin is here, she better prepare her best for him.” Hamlin spoke again, “What is he doing here?” “He has to meet the morning boat tomorrow. His daughter is coming for a visit, though it appears that she may stay with him permanently.” “Nobody told me that Sheorl has a daughter.” “I was surprised myself. He was rather embarrassed about the admission, almost as if her existence was improper, if you know what I mean.” Hamlin gave a forced laugh, “All this time I thought that he just didn’t have it in him. Is he sure that she is even his?” The rude laugh that followed made Hotpan flush. Hotpan was relieved to be distracted by the trays of food that Dulia and Giol had lugged from the kitchen. Hamlin smirked, one day everyone would treat him like that. Like the most important man in the whole place, when Hastire was out of the way. Hamlin sipped his ale quietly as his companions bantered amongst themselves, careful to stay out of his way for he appeared to be in a pensive mood. In the gathering gloom, Hotpan and Dulia started to light the tapers. More customers came in from the rain. As the evening lengthened, a cloaked woman stepped into the tavern, walked towards the fireplace and placed a small package on the mantle. Then she went over to a small table next to a window, taking off her wet cloak before sitting down and placing it on a stool next to her. Hamlin got up and went to warm himself by the fireplace. He put both hands on the mantle and leaned forward, as though to stretch himself. Sheorl spied her from the top of the stairs. She called herself a medicine woman, yet the medicine her patients took made them dull-witted. Some even said that she sold poison to anyone willing to pay for them. The giant saw the small package she placed on the mantle and he also watched Hamlin slipped the package under his fingers and into his sleeves. The giant thought the better of going down to join the crowd, especially after seeing Hamlin and his men. Such men were known for picking fights for no reason at all, and Sheorl did not feel like obliging them that night. Hotpan looked up and, when he saw his friend turn back, heaved a sigh of relief. The inn was usually busy on Tuesday nights. He was pleased with the louvered windows that Frad had built for him as they were very useful for rainy days. Special panels were angled to catch a passing breeze and to re-direct it into the inn. It made the place comfortable, for it kept the air in the tavern fresh. Spying for a reason tend to make a man wiser, and Hotpan’s sharp wit noted that Hamlin was quiet that night. It always meant that his mother was up to something major, since his idea of keeping a secret was to keep his mouth shut, literally. Maybe the quack medicine woman had something to do with the plan. He decided to reacquaint himself with her. It would also give him a chance to rest his tired feet. Fruit offering of sliced apples in hand, the innkeeper wound his way to her table. “Why Frieda, how good to see you here tonight? Would you mind if I sit down with you for some time, it has been a while since I last saw you.” Hotpan, regardless of his greasy looks, was the most charming man in Monqui. The middle-age woman looked up and gave a grin, then showed her assent by pointing to an empty chair. She looked a lot older than her years, which was perfect for her because a crooked smile and cold eyes were necessary in her trade, since her patrons had to feel that she was capable of giving them what they needed. She was very well paid for her labors. “You seem to be doing well Hotpan. The tavern is full tonight.” “Depends on how you look at it Frieda.” Hotpan gave an exaggerated grunt as he stretch out his hand to pull a stool in front of him, then he placed both feet on the stool. “My legs are killing me. I never thought that I would need to work so hard to earn my living.” “Ah..., that is the price you pay for serving the best roast in town.” “Thank you for the compliment, but I see that you are only taking bread and cheese tonight.” Hotpan answered. He made sure to talk in his usual loud voice, so that Hamlin and his men could hear what was being said. Words spoken quietly tend to raise suspicion and that was not what Hotpan intended to happen because it was not easy to gain their trust. Frieda said, “I am not young anymore. You in fact should also eat less meat, maybe that is why your feet hurt.” “You are right. Meat had made my body too fat for my feet to carry around,” with that Hotpan gave a hoot of laughter. A few patrons laughed with him and raised a toast his way. “See tonight I dine on fruits with you. You should try them. I swear that Bradock plants the best fruits in the region.” “Most probably because he pisses on the grown where they grow.” Frieda said sarcastically. She cackled at the dumbfounded look on Hotpan’s face, with a piece of sliced apple halted mid- air. The innkeeper bravely ate the slice. Hamlin got up to leave after his third pint of ale. Hotpan walked him to the front door. When the innkeeper turned around, he saw Frieda making her way towards the exit. He graciously helped her into her cloak. “You are leaving already Frieda? It is still raining and the night is dark.” “You are not going to squeeze any more money out of me tonight innkeeper. It is quite safe. This is not my first time walking in the dark.” “Do you think me so churlish?” he winked at her. “No, you are worst.” She gave another cackle. It was good to get some attention from somebody, even if he was a greasy looking innkeeper with tired feet. Frieda walked out into the rain, with the hood of the cloak pulled over her face. Hotpan turned back into the inn. By midnight most of his patrons had gone into their rooms and the few that were left began to get up from their seats and saunter towards the door. The innkeeper rung a bell to announce that he was closing the bar, and when he had barricaded the front entrance, Sheorl came down to the kitchen. When Giol walked in, Sheorl gripped the messy head in his arms and tussled his mop of hair. Cook put supper down on the table. Then Giol sat next to Sheorl, cuddling up to him like a little child. The giant smiled, it was a good meal.
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