The Oaken King by Henrik Rohdin

Author:Henrik Rohdin [Rohdin, Henrik]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-13T22:00:00+00:00

The Lords of the Wald

Castle Ulls sat perched on its hill like a dark bird, surveying the glittering lights beneath its steady eye. The streets around it were nothing like the quiet, placid quarters by the cathedral – the festivities seemed to have crawled up towards the stout keep as if they had a life of their own, grasping their way one street at a time until they could overrun the very walls of the place.

Naqah dodged two men marching down the street, arms linked and deep in song as they waved their mugs of ale back and forth. Further up the steep road, a jester was doing cartwheels for a pair of clapping noble ladies and across the way from him two actors beat each other with straw bats as they reenacted a tale for starry-eyed children.

Nobody paid her any mind as she approached the gates. Even the guards before it were drinking and laughing, and one was even deep in conversation with what had to be a whore.

Naqah lowered her head and walked straight past them. She didn’t get so much as a first glance, let alone a second.

I’m inside. Now to…

She stopped within the open courtyard and adjusted her bodice. While she knew she was not one of the curvy seductresses found in Firbad harems, she had also never been small-breasted, and yet the bodice dangled from her like a loose scarf rather than a well-fitting shirt. Whatever poor woman she had inherited this from must have had a bosom like flour sacks.

Once temporarily comfortable again, Naqah made her way towards the main keep. A harper sat by the door, strumming idly, and she heard the joyful shouts echoing from within. The musician gave her a once-over look as she passed, slurred a word about her beauty, and then returned to his off-tune plinking.

Inside the keep now.

“…all the lords have retired to the Baron’s upper hall,” a balding man in an embroidered red-gold tunic grunted as he staggered past. His bearded companion muttered something back under his breath as she veered to the left of them.

“No, I know, best leave ‘em to it. I’d be of a mind to hear what they whisper. It’s the lot of them! Even one of those Zeilhabens has come down from the high valleys! You know what I heard about them…”

Naqah stopped at a towering pair of doors and peered inside. The feast hall was still full, with chattering ladies at one table and handsome men at others. Everyone was well into their cups, and whatever food was left was being fought over by dogs under the table. She could hear the occasional canine snarl between the shouts and boasts.

The lords have retired, Naqah thought, looking to the other end of the great hall. Was there a door down there? Was that where she was to go?

She spied a pitcher of wine that had by some miracle not been knocked over and grabbed it, quickly pivoting out of the raucous hall and quickly making her way towards stairs to her right.

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