Phen came down late in the afternoon looking for something to eat. He was excited to see Hyden there, and as soon as he asked for some meat and bread, he took a seat next to him and started telling what he had learned so far.
“The dead man in the cavern, the skeleton with a key around his neck, was an elven consort, whatever that is?” Phen said quickly. “His name was something like Heart of Leafy Oak, or Leafy Oak Heart, in our language. The ring he was carrying was a gift from the elven king or queen of the time.”
Hyden nodded in appreciation of Phen’s efforts as much as at the royal nature of the gift.
“The book is his journal. He started it the day he left the Heartswood. I guess that’s where the elves used to live.”
“Still is,” Hyden explained. “The Heartswood is a forest that lies in some secret elven land, but it’s magical. When the elves are in the Evermore Forest, it’s because the whole Heartswood is in the Evermore.” Thinking about elves made him sad, leaving his expression uneasy.
Sensing Hyden’s discomfort, Phen picked up where he left off, just as cheerily as ever.
“He wrote his name, and his family lineage, which is two whole pages long. Then he wrote what his mission was-all on the day he started the journal. I haven’t gotten to how he ended up in the serpent’s lair yet, but I skipped forward and found a little bit about the king he was delivering the gift to.” Phen stopped as his bread and meat, and a big goblet of ale arrived before him. Hyden poured most of the ale into his own cup then sent the barmaid after some fresh milk.
“You have to stay alert for these two,” Hyden indicated the weaving form of Oarly perched next to Brady at the bar. Brady was sitting with this face down, passed out on the planks. “Deck Master Biggs will be around tonight, but Captain Trant and I are having dinner with a shipbuilder.” He turned to Phen and grinned. “You and Talon get to watch over the drunks while we’re gone.”
“I’ll be in Captain Trant’s room working,” said Phen through a mouthful of bread. “Master Biggs can watch ’em.”
“Aye,” Hyden laughed at Phen’s studiousness. “At least keep an eye on Talon, then. Take a chunk of meat for him when you go.”
“Aye,” Phen replied. He took a long sip from Hyden’s goblet when Hyden was looking away. When he had Hyden’s attention again he told him he should probably take a bath before he went to a formal dinner.
Hyden laughed, but left to find the innkeeper. Phen took a few more sips of the ale. He was too intent on learning everything he could about the ring and the oak-hearted elf to let himself get drunk, but the fact he had distracted Hyden enough that he could get drunk if he wanted pleased him to no end.
Lord Buxley’s table was set with golden dinnerware in a dark, candlelit, wood-paneled room that sported several grand seascapes and a fireplace the size of a small cottage. Hyden thought it was silly drinking from a golden cup and eating with solid gold utensils. It was nerve-wracking for him. He found himself worrying about proper manners with every word he spoke. Phen always called him a mountain clan hick, but hadn’t taken the time to instruct him on etiquette. What few manners he did possess, he learned from Mikahl, who had been raised in a Westland castle, and Queen Willa, who, like an overly concerned mother, seemed to correct his every public move.
The fare was freshly killed game hens and honeyed pork with butter-soft rolls and vegetables. The wine was sweet, smooth, and very potent. Hyden managed not to embarrass himself through the feast and was glad when the conversation turned from technical shipbuilding jargon and general news from ports afar, to him.
Four men, all important to the shipping industry in one form or another, shared the lord’s table with him and the Captain.
“So, they say you stole away Queen Shaella’s dragon,” the pudgy, but kind lord of the manor said to him. He obviously wanted to hear the story firsthand.
“Aye, uh, yes, sir,” Hyden stammered. “The dragon-Claret is her name-wasn’t serving her by choice. Shaella tricked her into a binding collar. She controlled the dragon through a similar collar that she wore.” Hyden leaned back in his seat feeling awkward. “It was just a matter of getting the collar from her neck to mine.”
“How, pray tell, did you do that?” another man at the table asked.
“I shot it from her neck with an arrow,” answered Hyden seriously. “Of course, I asked the dragon to keep still when I did it.”
“Of course,” Lord Buxley shared a glance with Captain Trant and the others that showed his disbelief.
“Impossible,” one of them said.
“Preposterous is what it is,” suggested another.
Captain Trant shrugged. He was beginning to see that this dinner was not going as planned. He hadn’t realized how out of place Hyden would be in a formal situation. An idea struck him. “You have a bow or two about, don’t you? Let us see just how good our hero is with one.”
An hour later Hyden was amazing them all with his talent from a balcony that overlooked the well-kept wooded garden at the rear of Buxley’s estate. The sun had set and it was growing dark outside.
“Three this time,” Hyden said confidently.
“Three?” Lord Buxley exclaimed. “And in the moonlight no less.” He looked over the rail, down at a young boy who was just catching his breath from his last retrieval. “Keep your eyes peeled, Dannor. He’s going for three this time.”
Behind him, Hyden heard Captain Trant making another wager. He had won several already, but none as large as the one he was making now.
“Are you ready?” Lord Northall asked from beside them. Northall owned a company that specialized in making barrels, crates, and other containers for shipping.
“Aye,” Hyden said, feeling completely at ease now.
Lord Northall threw one apple, then another, and a final one into the air, high over the garden. An arrow loosed as soon as the first apple was away. Hyden pulled his next arrow from where he had lined them across the flat top of the balcony rail. He nocked it quickly, then drew and fired high into the air. The third arrow he loosed at a downward angle as the last apple fell into the trees.
Captain Trant, who had seen Hyden Hawk successfully pull off this very feat from the rail of a rolling ship, had wagered a sizable purse against two of the shipbuilders this time.
“Go, Dannor,” Lord Buxley ordered like an excited boy.
The young cook’s son tore off across the lawn toward the woods to search for the fallen apples.
While they waited, Lord Northall brought up the subject of conversation they had all been waiting for.
“Captain Trant tells us you have an idea that might help us get the iron work we desperately need back under way. As you know, production has all but stopped here on the island.”
“Aye,” Hyden nodded. “It’s simple really. Start buying back the Wildermont slaves from the Dakaneese.”
“Were not slavers man!” Lord Buxley said indignantly. “We’re honorable men.”
“Let him finish, Morgan,” one of the others demanded.
“Found one!” Dannor called up in a thin voice. “It’s cored.”
One of the gamblers moaned.
“Still two to go. He couldn’t have gotten all three,” muttered the other.
“Go on,” Northall urged Hyden to continue what he was saying.
“There are so many Wildermont slaves that, if you bought them from the slavers in quantity, you could get them quite cheaply.”
“We have been hearing that a mercenary named Dreg is already trying to use slaves to mine the Wilder Mountains and work the forges,” Northall said kindly. “And as Morgan just said, Sir Hyden Hawk, we are not slavers.”
“Dreg won’t be in business much longer, I assure you,” responded Hyden confidently. “I doubt he will live to see midsummer. He is too far away from Dakahn, and King Jarrek is deadly determined.” Hyden unstrung the bow and leaned it against the rail as he continued. “I don’t want you to be slavers. I want you to free the slaves you buy. Give them the coin to get to their homes and back to work. They are the miners and smiths you need. It won’t be long before your supply is restored and they would owe you their freedom. Your investment would be returned, men
