He pauses, his gaze on mine, as if waiting for me to argue. I don’t. This wasn’t the story I’d envisioned, but the pieces fit. A quick attack by the harpies, grabbing two travelers. Two more follow, in hopes of rescuing their companions, which is why we only saw two sets of footprints on that path. The tent without any packs indicates that the remaining travelers grabbed their bags and ran before the harpies could return.
I don’t say any of that, and I hope I don’t give it away in my expression. I try to put on my “listening face,” as Mom calls it, the one a ruler uses to show she’s paying attention while not betraying her thoughts.
“Continue, please,” I say.
“So Lady Sarika and her companion tried to follow the harpies, who were returning to their nest. This happened at twilight the night before last. Several of our villagers were in the forest, collecting from our traps, and they heard the commotion. They were only armed with daggers, so they used the darts we’ve come to carry at all times, for dealing with the harpies. The darts contain sedative. They shot two of the harpies, and that was enough for the others to lose their ability to keep their prey aloft. One of the travelers broke his arm in the fall, but the woman tumbled into a small tree and escaped with only bruises.”
He pauses again, and this time I think he’s waiting for praise or gratitude. I only incline my chin, as regally as I can. “It is fortunate your people were nearby to help. However, I fail to understand why Lady Sarika is still in your village. I could understand giving all four a chance to recuperate after their adventure, but you’ve acknowledged that Lady Sarika is a hostage.”
“We took a risk helping the travelers,” the man says. “The harpies are monsters, and if what I know of your clan is correct, your highness, you understand their intelligence. Ravens and crows can recognize individual humans. Harpies are even better at that. Every time we act against them, they remember it and retaliate. The travelers can move on. We cannot. Therefore, we requested compensation for our aid.”
“By taking four people hostage?” Alianor says.
“No, my lady. They gave us your sister.”
“Wh-what?” Alianor says.
The man looks at me. “They told me who Lady Sarika is and that she could be traded for our payment. We objected, of course. We wanted to return with them to their packs to see what they might be able to trade. They tricked us and fled, leaving Lady Sarika. That was yesterday afternoon. We have been puzzling over what to do ever since.”
“While keeping my sister tied up,” Alianor says.
“She is understandably upset about what happened. She risked her life for her companions, and they left her behind as if she were a trinket. I’d much rather set her free and trust she’ll stay until this is sorted, but she has a temper.” He looks at Alianor. “It must run in the family.”
“Before we begin any negotiations, I’ll need to speak to her,” I say.
The man hesitates.
“You can’t expect me to take your word for this,” I say. “Not when Lady Sarika is here to give her own account.”
He nods. “You are correct. I hesitated because we’ve already been tricked once, by her companions.”
“Then allow Alianor and another of our party to speak to Sarika and confirm your story—and that she has been treated reasonably. I will stay with you and my guard while that is done. Alianor isn’t going to flee with her sister and leave me behind. If all is well, we will compensate you for your troubles. We travel with only the essentials, but we can manage a small payment and, beyond that, I trust you will accept a debt from the queen.”
He shakes his head, and I stiffen. He’s going to demand something I can’t part with. My sword. Or Malric—I’ve noticed his men studying the warg with interest.
“There is only one thing I want, now that I have a Clan Dacre monster hunter here.” He meets my gaze. “Get rid of these harpies.”
Alianor selects Wilmot to accompany her. The village leader—Geraint—allows Cedany to go with them as far as the door and stand watch there. Meanwhile, I remain at the village entrance with the others. Geraint invited me to come in and have an early lunch, but Kaylein refused. As much as I’d love a meal that isn’t dried meat, there’s a danger in all of us entering the village proper. Entice us into a house for a meal, shut the doors and our entire party is locked up.
Would they do that? From what Cedany said, these villagers aren’t known for hurting travelers. They just aren’t throwing open their doors to outsiders. Yet they’re obviously quick to take a hostage if they don’t feel they’ve been compensated for their aid.
I could argue that you shouldn’t jump in to help and then demand payment. That’d be like me saving someone under attack and then putting out my hand for a piece of silver. But admittedly, the villagers aren’t really asking to be paid for a rescue—they want compensation for the trouble to come, when the harpies retaliate.
As for what they’ve asked me to do, well, it’s my job, isn’t it? I could argue that they don’t pay our taxes, and so they aren’t entitled to my monster hunting. Yet that makes me no better than them.
“What do you think of them, your—Rowan?” Kaylein asks as I survey the village.
“On a scale from cutthroats to saints, I’d say they rate about a four.”
“I’d have gone for three myself,” she says.
Dain shakes his
