Verse of the Vanguard by K.C. May

Author:K.C. May [May, K.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Peach Orchard Press
Published: 2015-05-22T04:00:00+00:00

“Gerad Druba?” Jora asked, though she already knew he was the man they sought.

He glanced up and down the street as if to see whether anyone was watching them. “You should come in,” he said, stepping aside to let them in.

The cottage was well furnished and warm both in temperature and decor. With only two sleeping rooms and a kitchen adjacent to the parlor, it wasn’t large enough to house multiple wives, and she had to wonder whether Gerad hadn’t remarried after his return from the war. “I’m Jora Lanseri, the Gatekeeper,” she said, offering her hand.

“I can see that,” Gerad said with a grin, glancing down at her red robes. He shook her hand warmly. “I’m honored to meet you. And you must be one of the Colossus.”

“I am hight Omotylia Barrias of the Colossi,” Tylia said. “Women are Colossa. Men are Colossus.”

“I beg your pardon, Omotylia. I’d only heard the statues had been returned to life. I know nothing more about you than that.”

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve come,” Jora said.

“If it’s about the letter,” Gerad said, “I can explain.”

Jora scowled her confusion. “What letter?”

He blinked at her with a blank expression. “Is that not why you’re here? The letter I wrote to the king was, uh, ill-conceived. I was distraught over my mother’s passing and should not have let my emotions control me so.”

Jora shook her head. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I know nothing about a letter. I’m here because King Yaphet named you in his testament.”

Gerad stumbled back a step. “Me? Why would he name me, especially after my… rather scathing letter?”

Jora reached into the pocket sewn into the front edge of her robe and withdrew first the money and then the whistle. “He wanted you to have this.” She handed him the bills first. “Two thousand shells.”

He gasped and then coughed into his fist. “Two thousand?”

“I understand your father saved his life when he was still a prince.”

Nodding, he affixed his gaze on the money, and fanned the bills and then pulled them back into a neat stack. “So I was told. I appreciate it, but that’s a long time to wait to offer a reward. My mother could’ve used this in her later years.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why not send it by way of a messenger rather than the Gatekeeper and a Colossus—sorry, a Colossa? Surely you have more important business to tend to.”

“He also wanted you to have this.” When she offered her fist, her curled fingers underneath, he put his open hand under it, prepared to receive what was inside. She opened her hand and let the whistle drop into his palm.

“Challenge the god,” Gerad whispered. His eyes welled with tears as he turned it over in his hands. It was an old whistle, far more ancient than anything Jora had ever seen, but it was in surprisingly good condition.

About five inches long, it was made of carved wood, though the scene was worn so smooth that only the figure of a woman with wild hair was identifiable.

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