by David Dickie
Tyrgo said reasonably, “Pedron, there are only two of them left standing, disarmed…” He glared for a moment at the swordsmen and continued, “Well, mostly disarmed. We can solve this road-tax problem for you right now.”
Pedron shook his head again. “No. Me word of honor has Hobin. Plus, frankly, Hobin fights off other bands that mighten not be so throat-friendly.” He lowered his voice to a whisper “And, truth be known, I could go through Negrata and shave a couple days off the trip, but then I’d pay Struford road tax, and that’s even more.” He raised his voice again. “’Tis a good deal fer everyone, and it’s me word of honor.”
Tyrgo and Aurora looked at each other, and finally Tyrgo sighed. “Fine. Kydaos blesses us with some level of healing abilities. You want us to...” and he waved at Hobin.
“If youze would, I think he mighten not make it otherwise.”
A few minutes later, Hobin, fully conscious and no longer bleeding as a result of Tyrgo’s spells, grinned widely. Tyrgo had done a little healing with the other bandits as well, just enough to keep anyone from bleeding out. The ones who were not too badly hurt were busy patching the others up with bandages and, in the case of the man Tyrgo had hit in the leg with his quarterstaff, a splint.
“Damnen, me and boyz are totally in yer debt, and we’ll be all righty in a few days, I think. Village has a healer that’s all right. That’s good, ‘cause I know a wagon train with a lot of metal comin’ through here in seven, eight days.”
Grim did some fast math in his head and realized that would be just about the time Pedron’s caravan would pass this point on the return trip to Struford.
Pedron smiled warmly. “Sure, sure. Course, my new guards here sorta make me a little less worried about that.” Hobin’s grin vanished. Pedron continued. “Course, Old Macinroy’s caravan was only a couple days behind me, and I think he skimped a bit on guards this run.” Hobin looked thoughtful, then cheerful.
“Macinroy. Good ol’ Macinroy.” Hobin said.
Pedron smiled. “And howsen the wife?” he asked.
Hobin grinned back. “Fine, and yourse?”
“Good, good,” said Pedron.
After a few more pleasantries, the members of Hobin’s gang who were more ambulatory helped the others up. “Kays, time for us to scadoodle. Be seeing youze.”
Pedron nodded. “Say hi to Macinroy fer me.”
“Sures the thing!” said Hobin, and then with a wave, he and his men headed into the brush. The group returned to the cook fires with Pedron. Grim said “You know we’re not on the return voyage, right?”
Pedron nodded smiling. “Sure, but no reason for Hobin to know that.”
Grim continued “And Macinroy?”
Pedron was still smiling. “Same deal as meez with Hobin. So maybe Hobin’s a little luckier wit him, and Macinroy loses a tenth in toll tax. Suddenly, I can charge a half-tenth more and still be less than the competition.”
Grim thought about that for a moment and finally said, “And you thought Aurora was vicious?”
“We traders believe in the great circle o’ profit,” Pedron said blandly.
Chapter Seventeen
Three days later, they were in Eleyford, escorted the last few miles by Eleyford soldiers in colorful yellow and lime-green uniforms. The ocean was a blue line peeking between cultivated hills the last few miles, the smell of salt and seaweed heavy in the air. The wagons rolled through a city gate a few miles from the waterfront one after the other. Not far inside, they stopped on a large grassy field, lining up in neat rows. Hawkers touting their wares replaced the guards, and mixing with them were local merchants eager to get a look at Pedron’s goods.
Grim and the others joined the line of guards at Pedron’s colorful wagon, all waiting to collect their pay. As Grim’s group reached the small table where Pedron was carefully marking off names and paying wages, mostly in Struford gold and silvers.
Pedron smiled as he looked up and noticed them. “Youz sure youz don’t want slots goin’ back to Struford? Maybe those thatern chasin’ you have given up by now. I’ll pays full wages plus ten silver a day, sixty in total, a hundred for the master swordsman and the battle mage.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think we want to risk it,” answered Grim. “Appreciate the offer, though.”
Pedron reluctantly nodded agreement. “Well, gooden luck to yer, and yer welcome back if yer change yer mind.”
“I’m sure we’ll cross paths again at some point,” said Grim. “Any suggestions about the best place to stay for a few days?”
Pedron squinted. “You wants clean, fancy, or cheap?”
Grim glanced back at Rotan, Fayyaad, Alan and Lug. Rotan said, “No more funds until we reach Tendut, but we could, say, stretch a little for a nice place.”
Grim knew how much Rotan had left, with an innate ability to judge the size of a purse, and he knew how much they were getting for escorting the caravan, which would have been small at regular wages. At the reduced rates they had signed up under, it wouldn’t last more than a couple of days at a fancy inn.
“Clean,” said Grim.
Rotan looked a little glum, Fayyaad a little happy, Alan and Lug indifferent.
Pedron squinted. “Targo’s Inn. Tellem I sent you.”
“I will,” said Grim.
“Sounds good to us as well,” said a feminine voice from behind Lug, as Aurora and Tyrgo stepped out. “Give us a second to collect our wages, and we’ll walk over with you.”
Grim looked at Rotan and Alan, both of whom shrugged. “Sure,” he said.
A few minutes later, they were headed on foot to Targo’s Inn. They were passing through the end of the train, where the wagons that weren’t used for hauling cargo were parked. Most of them carried supplies that had been needed for the trip, but Ziwa’s wagon was there as well. She popped out as they approached. She was wearing her gray cloak and cowl.
“Fair evenings to you all. Are you heading into the town proper?”
“Fair evenings to you as well, Lady,” said Alan, bowing. “We are.”
“I will walk with you, if you have no objection,” said Ziwa.
“Not in the slightest,” answered Alan.
It was less than ten minutes before they stood outside the low stone building marked with the standard figure-in-a-doorway sign indicating an inn with the words, “Targo’s Inn” under it in bold yellow letters.
Alan inclined his head to Ziwa. “And, my Lady, will you be joining us in renting a room, or are you staying with the caravan?”
Ziwa shook her head negatively. “Neither. I have a bed at the traveler’s temple,” she said. “A quid-pro-quo from a friend of mine.” She walked over to Grim and, lowering her voice, said, “Do not forget, what we found in the Storm Bull temple is not something to advertise to others. You do not want anyone thinking there is an unguarded World Gate in Pranan, even if it has been locked with a master key. You do not want anyone thinking you know where such a thing can be found.” Grim nodded. Ziwa paused for a moment, then added, “I thank you once again for your help.” She stopped for a second more, then looked a bit more determined. “And thank you for listening. I do not talk about my past, about my fears, even with my own kind. Thank you for being a friend.”
Grim felt a little lump his throat. He forced himself to swallow it. “Thank you for your trust. It’s been an honor. I wish you luck in your search, Lady,” said Grim.
“I do not know what you look for, Grim, but I sense there is something you seek. Whatever it may be, I wish you luck in your search as well. Fair evenings to you.” And then she was off.
Fayyaad looked after her retreating back curiously. “What did she say?” he asked Grim.
“Avoid the gambling halls,” said Grim.
Fayyaad snorted.
They moved as a group into Targo’s Inn. A plump woman in a long cotton dress patterned with flowers of various sorts listened for a few moments of attempted bartering, then made it clear that the price was not ne
gotiable but that she would throw in a free beer for each of them.
“Pedron sent us,” said Rotan.
The woman raised her eyebrows. “Forget the beer,” she said. She set them up in double rooms, except for Aurora, who insisted that she wanted a single room for privacy. Based on the rumors from the caravan, Grim thought she would need it. Grim glanced at Tyrgo, who had an odd expression on his face: half amusement, half sorrow. Neither seemed appropriate, and Grim wondered about it, but there was no polite way to ask.
“Let’s drop our stuff and meet back down here,” suggested Grim. There were general nods, except from Fayyaad.
“I need sleep more than food,” Fayyaad said. It seemed true; Fayyaad looked beat, worn out in a way that wasn’t just the wear and tear of the trip. Grim wondered if he was coming down with something.
“Sure,” said Grim. “Maybe tomorrow.”
The rest of them dropped off their meager belongings in their rooms and met in the inn’s common room, a dimly lit space with a wooden bar and rough timber tables that had seen better days, with plates and silverware in only marginally better shape. Aurora and Tyrgo joined the rest of them at the table.
“Do you mind if we join you?” asked Tyrgo.
“Not at all,” answered Grim. They made space for two more chairs, and Aurora and Tyrgo sat down. Grim looked at them curiously. “So what’s your story? Vacation? Temple business you can put aside for a few weeks to put a little coin in your pocket?”
Tyrgo looked at Aurora, and something passed between them, but Grim wasn’t sure what it was. “Channel quest,” he said. Grim raised an eyebrow. Tyrgo sighed. “Standard practice for Kydaos priests. For many religions, actually. At some point regular doctrine and ceremonies are not enough to hone the ability to channel our powers. Priests are encouraged to travel, to visit other temples and have new experiences, to find their own, personal way to commune with their god.”
Alan looked at Tyrgo curiously. “I’ve heard of this. But I thought you had to reach third or fourth dan before you were given leave to roam that way, and that it was commanded by your god, in some sort of vision, giving you guidance. By appearances, I would judge you to be no more than twenty years of age. And your god sent you and your sister together? I thought these were personal journeys?”
Tyrgo looked uncomfortable. “Aurora and I are a special case.”
Grim said, “How so?”
Aurora spoke up this time. “We’re both children of a Kydaos priest who was touched by our god.” She looked at Tyrgo, who was still frowning. “Together, we channel Kydaos’s power at a level that is… unusual.”
Grim raised an eyebrow. “Unusual. Well, that clears things up. Must be nice to be children of someone so blessed.”
Tyrgo looked angry for a moment, then it passed. “It’s funny how often blessings and curses are hard to tell apart. But you have your answer. We’re free to pursue what we want until we feel we’ve reached a new level of communion with Kydaos.”
Grim sensed there was more to it, but it seemed to be a topic Tyrgo didn’t want to go into detail on, and Grim decided it was time to change the subject. Glancing around, he said, “Interesting crowd.”
Tyrgo relaxed a bit and nodded. “Some of them. Most look like locals. The four wearing Storm Bull robes, two tables down, the grumpy-looking guy over there, and the three guys in leather armor that look like military from one of the Pranan City-States… more interesting.”
Aurora looked at the ones in leather, glancing up and down one in particular; about six-foot, short, black hair, a square jaw, piercing blue eyes and heavily muscled. “Yes, indeed.”
Tyrgo sighed. “Do try to keep the noise to a minimum.” Aurora pursed her lips in a small smile and wandered over to the table.
Grim cocked his head, looked hesitant, and then finally spoke to Tyrgo. “Your sister seems…”
Tyrgo grinned ruefully. “Aggressive?”
Grim nodded hesitantly. “More or less.”
Tyrgo’s grin widened. “Kydaos worshipers are… well, worldly, for lack of a better term. Men and woman. She’s a little more forward because…” Tyrgo stopped, and the grin vanished. “Because she has a lot on her mind.”
They were close enough to hear Aurora as she leaned over the lap of the sitting soldier, who went a little glassy-eyed as he stared down the front of her blouse. She gently brushed the hilt of the sheathed weapon at his side with her fingers. “Mind if I stroke your sword?”
Tyrgo winced and said, “Despite appearances, she’ll pull information from them. It’s always a good idea to know what’s happening in town.”
Alan, who had been following the conversation intently, suddenly spoke up. “It seems like a worthwhile endeavor to extract what information we can.”
Rotan raised his eyebrows. “In whose book? I’m going to go ask the barkeep about transport out of this second-rate bunghole of a town. All we need to do is get transport from the docks to Cherifyr. That’s got a first-rate harbor, and even easier, teleport pads. There’s a Kethem embassy in Cherifyr. I can get funds there. Even if we sail, we’ll be on a Kethem ship, not one of the Pranan floating outhouses they call merchants, but with money we can literally be in Tendut in the blink of an eye.”
Grim thought about that. It was true, and yet… there were too many strange things going on, too many “that might be a coincidence, but” events in the past few weeks. Finally, he said, “You do that, but it never hurts to ask a few questions. We have time to kill.” He was thinking of the shadow guild in Bythe. There had to be a local equivalent. If people were still looking for them and asking questions, there would be ripples in that pond. “Alan, why don’t you and Tyrgo hold the table. I’ll check out Mr. Grumpy. Rotan, you take the Storm Bull clerics. You can talk to the barkeep until the place closes, there’s no rush there. As we don’t have Aurora’s charm, buy them all drinks. Let’s find out what there is to find out.”
Rotan rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, and moved over to join the Storm Bulls.
Grim walked over to the table with the dour-looking man. Thin but wiry, balding, with a long face and dark brown eyes, the man was dressed more like a merchant than a laborer, with a red velvet jacket and black cotton pants with a sharp crease. He looked a little out of place, probably why Tyrgo had picked him out in the first place. “Well met, friend. I’m Grim, just arrived in town. Can I offer you a beer in exchange for a little local color?”
The wiry man looked up, squinted, then waved his hand at the other chair at the table. “Fallow Jeround, at your service. You can call me Fal.”
Grim sat, waving two fingers in the air at one of the barmaids. “So, why so glum?”
Fal grimaced. “I’m the local market maker for metal trade. Hook the buyers and sellers up, track the prices, make sure everyone’s getting a reasonable deal. Eleyford lives and dies by the metal trade. Lord Yelfin himself knows me, knows I do a valuable service here. His lordlings, too.”
Grim nodded encouragingly while the barmaid dropped two more pints on the table.
After the barmaid moved off, Fal continued. “There’s something going on. The Cherifyr ambassador, the Struford support commander, and some Kethemer dressed in fine clothes are all there, and they troop over to Yelfin’s castle every day. It has to be some kind of deal for metal, but they’re cutting me out.”
“Cherifyr has an ambassador here?” prompted Grim.
“More like a tax collector. Same for the support commander, mostly his job is to make sure Struford get’s its cut.”
“They normally deal with you?”
“No, no,” said Fal. “I deal with the ships trying to buy and Yelfin’s pet enchanters who produce the metal, make sure price, quantity and delivery times are agreed to and fair to both sides. But Cherifyr and Struford both have some claim on Eleyford, and the representatives don’t get along… one’s a half-breed and the other is a Cherifyr lordling, where they prize pure human bloodlines. And the Kethemer… that’s new. I
’ve heard a name, Marson Braize, but that’s about all. Something’s going on. I don’t like it.”
Grim was taking a deep drink as he listened, when he sensed something had changed. Fal was staring at his chest, where Grim’s raised arm had momentarily parted his shirt and revealed his amulet on its chain. As Grim put the tankard down, Fal said “Interesting amulet you have there.”
Grim said non-committally, “A present from my mother.”
“Nice stone. I trade in jewelry sometimes; gems and stones come down with the metal from Rotkruz, and we have the smiths to turn them into something nice. Haven’t seen anything like that, and it’s always a risk trading blind, but I’m willing to take a chance. How much do you want for it?”
