Lord of Avalon by J.W. McKenna Page B

Athela. Memma
thinks the Acolyte and Symal are there, but Farda can’t go anywhere near there
to check. She thought you might be able to get away. To prove that Farda sent
you, Memma gave me a password.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m only telling you
what Memma said.”
    “Come on, out with it.”
    “Very well, m’lord. ‘Princess Bluta.’ That’s what she told
me.”
    Rydah had to laugh. A bluta was a large, placid, slow-moving
beast that was cut up for meat that Damons considered a delicacy.
    “All right. How can I find them?”
    “Go to Balgari and seek a man called Darikani. He’ll lead
you.”
    “Good. You rest. I’ll be back in a sun or two.”
    * * * * *
    Rydah passed several patrols on his way to Balgari. His
Damon garb kept him from being questioned too closely. He told the guards he
was traveling to scout rural crafts for Damon households. Deep down, he knew
that when Apnar put together Mardor’s report and the patrol sightings, he would
soon zero in on Acolyte Lepdar’s location.
    Even as he came to help, he was increasing the danger for
Symal.
    He rode into Balgari and tied up the carriage to a post in
the main square, outside the dining hall. There were patrols here as well, he
noticed. They seemed bored, as if they felt they’d been assigned a backwater
while the real action was happening somewhere else.
    All it would take would be one suspicious guard. He cursed
himself for not donning a disguise just before he entered the village.
    Rydah strolled into the café. People turned to notice the
Damon in their presence, an unusual sight in this farming community. He ordered
a pula , the strong drink of choice in the farmlands and sat at a small
table and looked around at all the eyes on him.
    Rand, he was such a terrible spy!
    The waitress dropped off his drink and accepted his coin.
“Excuse me,” he said.
    She stopped. “Yes, sire?”
    “I’m looking for Darikani. Do you know where I can find
him?”
    “Who’s asking?”
    “A friend.” He slipped her a few more coins.
    She shrugged and looked around nervously. “Don’t know him.”
    He cursed inwardly. What had he done wrong?
    He sipped at his drink and watched the crowd for the High
Lord’s men. Fortunately, there were none at the moment. He pondered his next
move. Should he ask somewhere else? Should he try to disguise himself now?
Wouldn’t that raise more suspicion? He felt lost.
    “Damon?”
    He turned. A middle-aged man stood before him. He wore a
tunic of the Craftsman class.
    “You are looking for someone?”
    “Yes, Darikani. Are you he?” He pitched his voice low.
    “Why do you seek him, m’lord?”
    “A friend sent me.”
    “Oh? Who would that be?”
    He sighed, anxious to end this circular conversation. He
lowered his voice, “‘Princess Bluta.’ “
    The man’s eyes widened. “You come from Memma?”
    “Yes. And Farda. I’m his brother.”
    “Yes, I heard that he had a Damon brother.” He looked
around. “Come.”
    Rydah left his drink and followed Darikani out the rear door
of the cafe.
    He stopped by the stinking pile of trash that had gathered
near the back door. “Forgive me, m’lord, but would you be willing to swap your
Damon clock for something, umm, less conspicuous?”
    “Yes, of course. I was foolish for not thinking of it
myself.”
    Darikani nodded and escorted Rydah along the back of a few
buildings until they came to a barn. The craftsman held up a hand, then slipped
inside. He returned a moment later to wave Rydah inside.
    “We should be safe from the prying eyes of the patrols here.
They’re everywhere. But they pay little attention to us, as long as we don’t
have strangers with us.”
    “They’ve already seen me.”
    “Yes. Damons travel through here occasionally, so your
presence is not that unusual. But they’ll want to know where you are at all
times. Once they realize you’ve given them the slip, they will start looking
for you in earnest.”
    They walked through the