Artesans of Albia: 01 - King's Envoy by Cas Peace

apprehensive about the garrison’s reaction to his tale, but he wouldn’t look that far ahead just yet.
     

     
Despite his unease, Taran felt a certain excitement the following day. He hadn’t traveled since he met Cal a year and a half ago.
He spent the morning at the livery looking at the mounts for sale. He finally selected two that looked sturdy and biddable. Rienne was a fair rider but Cal was nervous of horses and would need a steady mount.
     
Using some of his small store of gold, he paid for the animals and their gear. He arranged for them to be ready, along with his own bay gelding, by mid-morning the following day. Then he strolled over to have a bite of lunch with Paulus while he waited for the mail coach’s return. As he had hoped, Paulus agreed to keep an eye on the cottage while they were gone. In return, Taran helped behind the bar.
     
Paulus expressed his concern over the incident with the cellar and offered to get some men together to clear it out while Taran was away.
     
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Taran hastily. “Thanks for the offer, Paulus, I really appreciate it, but apart from the trouble you’d have convincing anyone to go in there with you, the Staff’s still buried under the rubble. I’d rather it remained undisturbed until we get back.”
     
“Not dangerous, is it?” asked Paulus.
     
“Not in itself, no,” said Taran, knowing this was probably a lie, “but it’s something that needs … careful handling by the right people, if you know what I mean.”
     
“Probably not, but I’ll take your word for it. Alright, I’ll see that no one disturbs anything while you’re away.”
     
“Thanks, Paulus. You’re a good friend and I won’t forget it.”
     
The mail coach passed through the village around mid-afternoon. Taran met Rienne and Cal as they jumped down from the elderly carriage and waved to the coachman. They were loaded down with bags and supplies and at Taran’s dubious look, Rienne said, “This is only essential stuff, Taran. You don’t think I’d let us go on a trip with only the clothes on our backs, do you?”
     
“No, of course not,” said Taran. He relieved her of a couple of bags and rolled his eyes at Cal, who grinned.
     
Back at the house, Rienne distributed what she had purchased. She’d bought spacious saddlebags for each of them and a spare to hold food. Taran was amazed how much she managed to fit into each bag, folding and stowing everything neatly. He and Cal let her be, as she seemed plenty competent with the piles of clothes, food and medical supplies.
     
Cal helped Taran prepare a meal while Rienne completed the packing. Once they had eaten, they gathered around the fire with fellan. The day had been warm and pleasant but the evenings were growing chilly. Rienne made them go over what they were each taking one last time until even she could think of nothing else they might need.
     
“Just as well,” commented Cal, “or the poor horses will hardly be able to move.”
     
“Don’t exaggerate,” said Rienne. “You’ll be glad for what we’re taking at some point, you’ll see.”
     
They speculated about what might happen when they reached the garrison, but as they only had Paulus’ mysterious hints to guide them, it was pointless. Taran was glad to abandon the topic as thinking about the Staff only raised anxieties and bad memories. The prospect of travel had helped keep them at bay and he was relieved when Rienne suggested they retire.
     

     
The next morning was bright and chilly. Taran took a last look at the bolted and padlocked cellar door, collected his gear, and followed his friends into the street. He closed the hastily repaired cottage door and turned the key in the lock. The drapes had been drawn to keep out prying eyes. Paulus met them outside the tavern and accepted the key from Taran.
“Best of luck,” he said. “Don’t forget, ask for Major Sullyan. If that doesn’t get you in, ask to see