by David Debord
“You’re right. You shouldn’t have. I walked all the way here dressed like this and didn’t feel unsafe for a moment. I can handle myself better in a city than you’ll ever be able to.”
“Please know, I didn’t do it because you’re a woman.” His cheeks burned and he took a long drink of wine solely for an excuse to break eye contact with her. When he finally set his cup down, she was still staring at him.
“I’m waiting.”
It was as if the ice had frozen his tongue. He could not form a single word.
Under the table, Lizzie tapped her foot. Finally, she sighed and stood and looked down at him in amusement. “I’m leaving now. Alone. If you try to follow me out of some misplaced desire to keep me safe, you will never see me again. I don’t need you. Not in that way.” She moved around the table and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “But I do love you.” She kissed him softly, eliciting a few hoots and whistles from men at nearby tables.
Oskar watched in stunned disbelief as she wove her way gracefully through the common room and out the door. As if in a trance, he wandered back to the table where his friends sat.
“I told you,” Dacio said.
“I can’t believe you let her go after that kiss,” Whitt said.
“I had to. She said if I followed her, I’d never see her again.”
“In that case, I’d better follow her.” Naseeb rose to his feet.
“I really don’t think she needs us,” Oskar said. “She knows how to take care of herself.”
“It’s not her safety I’m worried about,” Naseeb said. “I just spotted Agen and his lackeys. They’re following her.”
Oskar sprang to his feet, all worries about Lizzie’s ire forgotten, but when he reached the street, she was gone and Agen and his friends were strolling along, chatting amiably. As they walked by, Agen looked in Oskar’s direction and smiled. Oskar didn’t know what that meant, but he was sure it wasn’t good.
Chapter 23
Hierm’s eyes flew open as a loud clang jolted him from his half-daze. He looked up to see the jailer, a veritable beast of a man with broad shoulders and no neck, standing silhouetted against the lamplight from the front room.
“Time to eat,” the jailer rumbled. He pushed a small, greasy sack and a water skin between the bars.
“Why, it’s just like dining in the common room of the finest inn in Galdora,” Hair said, “though the serving girls are not nearly as attractive here.”
Hierm managed a smile. “Let’s see what’s on the menu.” He opened the bag and saw four crusts of bread and four strips of dried meat. He took his share and passed it to Tabars, who also took his bread and meat and offered it to Edrin, who shook his head.
“Eat,” Tabars said. “I want you at full strength for when we get out of here.”
Edrin reluctantly accepted the food and passed the bag along to Hair.
Hierm tore off a chunk of bread and chewed it slowly. The single cell in which the four of them sat was scarcely large enough to hold them all. Outside, the jailer sat down in a wooden chair, propped his feet on a stout table, folded his arms across his chest, and stared resolutely at the front door.
“Speaking of getting out of here,” Edrin said around a mouthful of bread, “do you have any ideas about how we’re going to manage that?”
Tabars shook his head. “Not yet.”
“How about the window?” Edrin glanced up at the small, barred window set in the back wall.
“No good. Even if we had a chisel, it would take all summer to chip away enough stone and mortar to remove the bars, and even then none of us are small enough to slip through.” He took a swallow of water. “The only way I can see is to get the jailer to open the door, or at least get the keys away from him and then overcome him, but looking at him, I’m not sure even the four of us together are up to the task.”
“There’s one thing I like about him.” Hair pointed at the jailer. “He’s proved to me that the stories are true. Trolls do exist.”
Hierm and Edrin snickered, but Tabars remained deep in thought.
“The constable’s not such a big fellow,” he finally said. “I believe I could take him if he’s alone and unarmed, but he didn’t impress me as being foolish enough to give me the chance.” He heaved a sigh and leaned back against the stone wall. “Let’s get some rest. Perhaps I’ll manage to dream up an escape plan.”
They lapsed into a dark silence, but no one slept.
Hierm wasn’t certain how much time had passed, but after what felt like hours, Hair rose and moved to inspect the bars that kept them in.
“There’s got to be a way,” Hair whispered.
“I think there is,” someone said in a low voice.
Hierm looked up and saw a familiar face peering through the window. Colin!
Tabars stood. “I remember you from the battle.”
“And I you. Here, take these.” Colin slid a hammer and chisel between the bars.
Tabars chuckled. “I can’t break out with these.”
“I don’t need you to break out,” Colin said. “I need you to create a distraction. You’ll know when it’s time.”
“Very well.” Tabars took the hammer and chisel and turned to face the others. “When this starts, you three stay away from that jailer. I don’t want you tangling with him. Leave him for me.”
Hierm privately thought that, if it came to a fight, he’d do his best to help though he didn’t know how much difference he’d make. He picked up the food bag and twisted it nervously in his hands.
From the front room, a sharp knock sounded at the door, and the jailer sprang to his feet, upending his chair.
“Who’s there?”
“Constable needs you.” Colin’s muffled voice scarcely carried to their jail cell. “There’s a ruckus in the refugee camps. We can’t settle them without you.”
The jailer took two steps toward the front door and then hesitated.
“Constable says I ain’t never to leave when we’ve got prisoners. Not never.”
Hierm’s heart sank. So the jailer wasn’t quite as stupid as he looked.
“I know,” Colin said from the other side of the door, “but this time he says he really needs you. I’m to watch them while you go knock some heads.”
A wicked grin slowly spread across the jailer’s face. He turned and looked at his prisoners. “I don’t suppose they’re going anywhere.” He turned and reached to unlock the door, but froze. “Wait a second. Who are you? You don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
“That’s it. He’s not going to open the door.” Tabars turned to the window and began hammering.
“What’s that racket?” the jailer yelled. “What are you doing in there?” He turned and stalked toward them, looking every bit the troll Hair had called him earlier. He stopped short of the cell, saw what Tabars was doing, and chuckled. “Give me those. Don’t make me come in there and take them away from you.” He frowned as realization slowly dawned on him. “Hold on. Where did you get those?”
Just then, something slammed into the front door. The jailer slowly wheeled about. Another crash and the door flew open and Colin burst into the jail. The distraction had bought him enough time to get inside.
With surprising speed for a man his size, Colin closed the distance between himself and the jailer. He threw his shoulder into the jailer’s chest, knocking him back against the bars, and followed up with a solid punch to the brute’s jaw.
Hierm saw his chance. While Colin pummeled the jailer with a flurry of kicks and punches, Hierm reached through the bars and yanked the food sack down over the man’s head. The jailer roared in anger and thrashed about, trying to pull the bag free, but Hierm held on tight.
With the jailer’s hands occupied, Colin now had an easy target. He lashed out with a vicious kick to the larger man’s groin and followed with another to the kidney. The jailer cried out in pain and wobbled, struggling to maintain his feet. Colin now aimed a precise kick to the
side of the man’s knee, buckling it. The jailer sat down heavily, grabbing at his injured joint, but Colin put an end to his struggled with a kick to the temple, rendering him unconscious. He relieved the brute of his keys and opened the cell.
“We must hurry. It’s the middle of the night, but there’s a chance someone heard me knock the door in.”
“He’s got our weapons.” The words nearly stuck in Hierm’s throat and came out in a croak. He found himself uncomfortable around Colin. All his life, Shanis’ father had been the soft-spoken man who patiently endured Shanis’ monumental fits of temper. He’d never suspected the man possessed such deadly skill.
Colin nodded and hurried to the front room where he opened a strongbox and retrieved their belongings, while Tabars, Edrin, and Hair dragged the jailer into the cell and bound and gagged him with strips torn from the food bag. Colin locked the man inside and hung the keys on a hook by the desk.
“He won’t be out for long. Follow me, and don’t make a sound.” Leaving the candle on the desk burning, he led them out into the damp night and closed the broken door behind them as best he could.
Hierm felt as if a target had been painted on his back. He felt that at any moment someone would raise a cry or loose an arrow at them. His heart pounded with such force that he imagined it would wake everyone in town. It was not until they passed through a thick patch of forest and emerged into a clearing where their horses waited that he allowed himself to relax.
“How did you manage to recover our horses?” he asked.
Colin smiled. “I have a way with horses and I can move at night without being seen or heard.” He raised his hand, forestalling further questions. “There is no time. I mean to be well clear of this place by sunrise.”
They walked their horses in silence until Colin gave the signal, and then they mounted up.
“Where to now?” Hair asked as he swung up onto his horse.
“I collected a few rumors in town,” Colin said, “and I think we’re close to catching up with Lerryn.”
Chapter 24
A thick blanket of clouds shrouded the moon. Oskar sat on the roof of the archives building, gazing down at the city. The twinkle of lights from houses far below looked like tiny stars, and he imagined for a moment that he was a god looking down on his creation. He managed a rueful grin. Such a thought must have stemmed from his choice of reading material.
He’d been sitting here three nights running, reading Godwars and hoping Lizzie would show up. So far, she had not. Perhaps tonight would be the night.
He summoned the tiny ball of blue light, making it just bright enough for him to read, but not so bright that he would be spotted from any distance, and opened his book. He quickly found himself drawn in by the details of the legendary war. With all the things that had changed in his life, his love of books had remained a constant. The words on the page came to life in his mind and he could imagine himself there in the midst of it all.
He’d only read for a short while when he found himself yanked back to reality by what he read.
“This isn’t right,” he said.
“Talking to yourself again?”
He jumped and dropped his book, but managed to catch it before it slid away.
“Stop doing that to me. One of these days, I’m going to fall off and it will be your fault.”
“One of these days you’ll learn to keep your eyes and ears open. You never know who or what might be sneaking up behind you.” Lizzie sat down beside him, pulled her knees to her chest, and laid her head on his shoulder.
Oskar tensed. He knew it was wrong for him to let things continue with Lizzie. Their feelings for one another were growing stronger. She had told him she loved him, and he thought he felt the same way, but he was going to be a saikur, and that left no room for a woman in his life; not even one as beautiful as Lizzie.
She caught him staring at her. “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”
He hesitated. What should he say to her? His first impulse was to tell her how he felt about her, but how he felt and what he knew he ought to feel for her were at odds. Would he be doing her any kindness by sharing his feelings, knowing he could never act upon them?
“Lizzie, how much do you know about saikurs?”
“I know they’re stuffy old men who wear ugly brown cloaks.” She flicked the sleeve of Oskar’s cloak. “And they spend entirely too much time with their noses buried in books. At least, one of them does.” She looked meaningfully at Oskar’s book.
Oskar managed a smile. “I’m not a saikur yet, but I hope to be.”
“That’s nice.” She cast a thoughtful look at him. “So, what do you people do, exactly? Besides walk around and look self-important, I mean.”
“Lots of things. It depends on your field of study. Some of us become healers, others scholars.”
Lizzie pretended to yawn and then dropped her head onto his shoulder and pretended to fall asleep. “Boring.”
“We don’t all have boring jobs. Some are warriors, others travel the world, gathering knowledge or working as ambassadors.”
Now Lizzie perked up. “That’s a little better. I think you should be one of those. When do we leave?”
Oskar’s insides fluttered at the word “we.” Thief or no, for such a beautiful girl to think the two of them could have a future together... Well, it wasn’t something he’d ever thought would happen to him. But he knew it couldn’t be.
“Lizzie, a saikur can’t ever get married.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “Who said anything about getting married?”
“That’s how it’s done in the town where I grew up. You find someone you,” he swallowed hard, “love and you get married.”
Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Look around you. Are you in your village anymore?”
He looked out at the night-blanketed city and then at Lizzie, and shook his head. “I suppose not.”
Lizzie sighed. “I declare, it’s going to take everything I’ve got to whip you into shape. I’ll try to explain this to you, so listen carefully. When you are finally a seeker, or whatever you call yourselves, you’re going to take me with you. We’re going to see the world together. I’ll watch your back and I’ll be your companion.”
She put an emphasis on the last word that sent a tingle through parts of his body he preferred not to think about at the moment. He shifted uncomfortably and continued to gaze into her eyes.
“That is,” she began, wrapping her arms around his neck, “unless you don’t want me.”
His resolve crumbled. “I love you,” he blurted.
“Why wouldn’t you?” she teased. “I’m lovable.” She pushed him onto his back and smothered him with kisses.
Some time later, it might have been minutes or hours for all his muddled mind could gather, they lay side by side looking up at the night sky. Lizzie’s head rested on his arm, which had gone numb, but he didn’t want her to move. Not ever. He lay there, feeling her warmth pressed against him and listening to the soft sounds of her breathing, and wondering how long it would take him to become a full-fledged saikur. Would she wait for him?
Lizzie finally broke the silence. “Does the moon look different in other parts of the world?”
“It’s the same no matter where you go. It goes through the same cycles and everything.”
“Cycles?” she asked.
“You know: full moon, half-moon, sickle moon.”
Lizzie rolled onto her side, facing him. “And they’re the same wherever you go? That’s disappointing. You educated people take all the wonder out of the world.”
“Not all the wonder,” he said. “I once faced down a golorak and accidentally called down lightning on it.” Seeing her confused frown, he told her about the creature that could best be described as a giant frog with a tough hide and razor sharp teeth. Before he could tell the story of how he’d dispatched one of them, she punched his chest.
“That’s not a true s
tory. Stop winding me up.” She pressed a finger to his lips and shushed him before he could protest. “I’m not listening, so don’t bother. If it were a true story, you would have told me before now.”
“It never came up before,” he protested. “It’s not as if I killed it on purpose, so it wasn’t heroic. Back then I didn’t even know I was capable of sorcery.”
Lizzie’s expression grew serious. “It doesn’t really matter to me, you know.”
“What doesn’t?”
“What you choose to do. I know how you feel about your books, and I’ll still love you even if you decide to be a boring old librarian instead of an adventurer. Of course, we won’t get to spend as much time alone together if you’re a librarian as we will if we go on the road.”
Oskar felt his face turn scarlet and hoped she couldn’t see.
“Speaking of books, what are you reading?” She picked up his book and held it up in the moonlight.
He scowled and considered pressing the issue of the golorak, but decided against it. One day she would meet his friends and they would confirm the story. “It’s called Godwars,” he finally said.
“What’s it about?”
Oskar frowned. “Um, it’s about the Godwars.”
Lizzie punched him again. “I know that, you ox. I mean, what’s happening in the part you’re reading now? Something in there got your attention just as I arrived. Whatever it was, you said it made no sense.”
It took him a moment to remember what he’d been thinking about before she and her soft lips had interrupted him. “It’s the final Godwar. It just... ended.”
“That was a good thing, right? I mean, the songs all tell of the death and destruction the wars wrought.”
“But wars don’t just end. They wind down. There are negotiations, battles won and lost, concessions made, treaties signed. But that didn’t happen here. Best I can tell, the rulers of all the nations disappeared, never to return again, and soon afterward, everyone lost the will to fight and just went home. But that’s not the strangest part.”
“What is?”
