Blood Of The Righteous

by J. E. Sandoval

  “Keep that up an’ you’ll be that poor in a month,” Edge said.

  David ignored the comment as Captain Karinga came through the door.

  Karinga motioned outside. “Did those two kids steal something?”

  “No, Cap’n. David gave ‘em some silver, that’s all.” Edge’s voice had a touch of disapproval about it.

  “Ah,” Karinga said absently.

  The six men came into the room, hauling two large kegs of beer and two cases of wine. Karinga turned to them, noticing them eyeing up the room. He pictured them smearing their grimy hands on Lady Malcoeur’s fine possessions. Images of being required to make restitution prompted him to speak. “You men wait here until called for. Don’t touch anything, don’t sit on anything, just stand there. Do well, and I’ll hire you gents on board my ship.

  The men nodded understandingly and began to chat amongst themselves.

  “Want me to wait here, Cap’n?” asked Edge.

  Karinga nodded. Turning, he knocked on the ornately carved oak door that led into the main office area. The door was opened by a tall man with salt and pepper hair and matching facial hair. David felt as if he definitely had a no-nonsense attitude about him. He was almost a hand and two fingers over six feet tall. Dressed in leather britches and a red silk shirt, he wore two matching short swords at his waist. The darkness of his eyes and the chiseled lines of his face told of the lives he had taken in the line of duty. When he saw the captain, however, the hardness of his features softened into a smile.

  “Jax! So good to see you!” the large man said, extending his hand. “How long has it been?”

  Karinga clasped his hand. “Too long, Johan. Far too long.”

  Johan closed the door behind him and stepped into the entryway, eyes fixed on the two large barrels. “What have we here? Elgannan ale, perhaps?”

  “Gylinian dark beer!” Fyke chimed in. “Only the best for you and Lady Malcoeur.”

  Johan nodded with approval. “Good. Very good indeed. Been a while since we’ve had some good beer in the city.” His eyes fell on David. “Hello there, little fellow,” he said, fishing into his pouch. “How about a silver and you be on your way.”

  Karinga, Fyke, and Edge laughed deeply. The captain put his arm around David. “No no, Johan. He’s with me. I’d like to introduce you to my newest officer, Yeoman David Tanner. He’ll be coming with me and doing the negotiating with Lady Malcoeur.”

  Johan pointed to him in disbelief. “A kid? Jax, you’re joking.”

  “I assure you, my dear friend, I am not joking.” Karinga’s smile seemed to almost stretch beyond the limits of his face.

  “Alright,” Johan said, shaking his head in resignation. “She won’t be happy about it, I can promise you that.” He led the three men into the main office, leaving Edge with the six laborers and the sample wares.

  The inner office reflected the same taste as the outer area, but it was much more practically decorated. A beautiful mahogany desk was the focal point of the room, as every one of the six chairs was turned precisely to face it. Behind the desk was a woman in her late 30’s. While not possessing the type of beauty a tavern wench or a preened and decorated courtier showed, she had a striking presence about her and a strong, a very earthy beauty, and a charisma that emanated confidence and authority. Her brown, curly hair hung at shoulder length, worn back a bit to show off her ruby earrings and matching necklace. The dark red of her coat was brought out by the black trim and her white tunic underneath.

  Lady Malcoeur stood when the group entered the room. “I can’t believe it! Captain Jaxom Karinga!” she said, striding over to the captain and giving him a friendly hug. “I was sure Gaeceric would have caught you by now.” She grinned widely.

  “If that pirate does manage to catch me, then I deserve to be caught. Its good to see you, Kal.” They stood smiling at one another, old friends and rivals. David could only imagine the years of memories that passed between them.

  Kal’s eyes lingered on the captain for a brief instant as she turned her head to Fyke. “And how are you doing, Corwyn?”

  “Well, m’lady, I can’t complain.”

  She looked to David. “And who is this handsome young man?”

  “This,” Karinga said, putting his arm around David, “This is my new Yeoman, David Tanner. He’ll be handling my bartering from here on.”

  All looks of enjoyment drained from Lady Malcoeur’s face. “You can’t be serious, Jax.”

  “Oh, I assure you, Kal, I am quite serious. David here has a head for numbers and strategy, and he is wise beyond his years.”

  “How old are you, David?” she asked.

  “I am fourteen, Lady Malcoeur,” David responded.

  Kal’s face immediately turned sour. “Karinga, are you here to do business or to play games? If it’s the latter, don’t waste my time.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “This isn’t for fun, it is how I make my living,” she said, accentuating her last words by smacking the back of her right hand against her left palm. Giving an indignant “Humpf”, she went back around her desk and sat in her throne-like chair. The icy glare she gave Karinga told that nice-time was over.

  The captain held out his gloved hands in front of him. “Look, Kal…”

  “Jax, I don’t want to hear it,” she said, crossing her arms. She avoided his eyes and shook her head disapprovingly.

  Karinga leaned forward, putting his fists on the desk in front of him. “Kal, look at me. If he is good enough for me, why isn’t he good enough for you?”

  David noticed that Johan’s hands inched their way to the sword hilts on his belt. He looked relaxed, but was poised to strike at the first hint of any danger to Lady Malcoeur.

  Karinga continued, oblivious to Johan’s movement. “What is the real reason you won’t negotiate with Mr. Tanner here?”

  Kal finally looked Jax in the eyes. “Because I’d feel bad taking advantage of a child.” Her voice sounded almost like a hissing snake.

  “Just as your usual customers would feel bad taking advantage of a woman?” David interjected.

  Lady Malcoeur’s looked to David and raised an eyebrow. She looked into David’s eyes, reading her soon-to-be opponent, anger and contention draining from her face. “Well now, you figured that out, did you?”

  David tried to hold back a smug smile, but couldn’t.

  “Alright, Mr. Tanner. What have you gents got on board your little ship that I might be interested in?”

  * * * * * *

  “Get yer filthy hands off that, ye stink!”

  The laborer quickly withdrew his hand from the silver candlestick as Edge swatted at him.

  Johan emerged from the door with a tap and pewter tankard in hand. “Lady Malcoeur said I should sample some of your beer. Any one of you know how to tap a keg?”

  “I do,” one of the men said, rubbing his hand on his grimy tunic. “My mammy was a tavern maid. I know what I’m doing.”

  Johan nodded and handed him the tap.

  Another laborer, who had started dancing in place spoke up. “Boss, I gotta be gettin’outta here for a bit.”

  Edge nodded. “Don’ take too long.”

  The laborer dashed out the front door, ran quickly across the street dodging people in the crowded streets, and ducked into the alley between a tailor’s shop and silversmith’s. The shadows sufficiently hiding him from view of the street’s ladies, he fumbled with the rope holding up his pants and began to urinate against the wall of the tailor’s shop. Steam rose as he sighed in relief, allowing his shoulders to slump.

  “Garth,” a voice said from the alley entrance, startling the peeing man. The newcomer took a few steps towards him and stopped.

  “Commodore Donegal!” Garth said, voice giving away anxiety.

  Donegal struck a sulfurstick against the stone wall to his right and lit the pipe he had i
n his mouth. “Careful, you’re pissing on your shoe.”

  Garth snapped back to awareness and tucked himself back into his pants, causing a small wet stain to grow down his leg. “Sorry, Commodore.” Though the effort was in vain, he did his best to make himself presentable to Gaceric’s main enforcer.

  Taking a long puff from his pipe, Donegal shook out the sulfurstick and blew smoke through his nose. “Tell me what Karinga is up to.”

  “He’s in there trying to sell two hundred barrels of dark beer and twenty cases of wine to Lady Malcoeur. He’s got a Yeoman with him who’s a silver-tongued young’n doing the bargaining for him. His first mate and his Jimmylegs are with him too, and five hired hands,” Garth said, eager to please.

  “They the big barrels?”

  “Yes, sir! Took two of us struggling to carry each one.”

  Donegal pursed his lips together. “Hm,” he said. “Two hundred of them, you say?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Good work. Here,” Donegal said, flipping a silver to the grubby laborer. “Go to a tavern and get yourself a drink. Don’t go back to the warehouse.”

  “But sir,” Garth pleaded, “they were going to give me five coppers and hire me on!”

  Donegal took the pipe out of his mouth and spat a stray piece of Iberian nightshade into the filthy ally. “Is five coppers worth your life?”

  Garth nodded, tucked the silver into his tunic, and left the alley quickly without a word.

  Ignoring the stink, Donegal put the pipe back into his mouth and smiled. “Time for a reckoning, Captain Karinga.”

  * * * * * *

  “I know you couldn’t have paid more than three gold per barrel,” Lady Malcoeur said. “There is no way I am going to pay you sixteen a piece for average quality beer.”

  David scoffed. “Average quality. My lady, this is the finest Gylinian dark beer that Port Cauldwell shall ever see!” He ticked off each of his points on his fingers. “First, you don’t have to pay guild premium on it. Second, with the war picking up again, this is going to be one of the final batches Brewer Gillhurst will be selling to merchants for possibly years to come. Third, Johan here can’t seem to get enough of it.” David turned to the large bodyguard. “How many tankards is that for you, sir? Two?”

  “Three,” Johan said, trying to stifle a belch. “He does have a point, Kal, this is an exceptional brew.”

  Lady Malcoeur shot an angry glance at the large man. “Johan, you aren’t helping things. Go outside and make sure those hired hands of theirs aren’t chewing on the furniture.”

  Suitably chastised, Johan made his way back out to the reception area. He motioned for Fyke to join him. The alluring call of beer was all the motivation Fyke needed to comply.

  Kal turned her attention back to David. “Fine. I’ll give you six gold each for them. That will be double what you most likely paid for them.”

  David shook his head, folding his arms. “My lady, that is unacceptable. There are at least 250 tankards in each of those barrels. Tavern owners are going to sell it for a silver each. That is 25 gold per barrel, assuming they don’t water it down.” David sighed. “I think I can come down to 15.”

  “Alright, it is quality beer. I will give you that. But I need to make a share for my up-front investment. I can’t sell it for 25 gold, plus I have to store it, guard it, and keep Johan from drinking all my profits. I’ll give you seven golds each.”

  Karinga smiled, extremely pleased with the price Lady Malcoeur offered.

  “Fourteen. With as many high class-establishments as we passed on the way here, you won’t have to store them for longer than a week.”

  “Eight. Any higher than that, and it will be more profitable for me to send my own ship up to Port Maynard and purchase 200 barrels of my own,” she said, making a sweeping gesture.

  David grinned. “I don’t think so, my lady. I bought up his entire reserve.”

  “Oh, you little knave,” Kal said, smiling. “Nine. And you are pushing me to my limit. Remember, if I don’t buy it from you, you’ll have to find another merchant with the ability to handle your load, and you won’t find anyone else with our capacity in all of Port Cauldwell. Or you could go door to door and try to sell it yourself.”

  “Thirteen. If you don’t want them, we’ll simply head down to New Portsmouth. With all the extra soldiers down there, I’m sure there will be a hefty market for Gylinian brew.” David thought his stomach would be in knots at this point, but he was actually enjoying the contest.

  “Ten is my final offer. And you have to throw in those two sample barrels out there for free.”

  David sat quietly for a few seconds. He glanced at Karinga, who looked like he was about to burst with joy. Settling himself back in the chair, he studied Lady Malcoeur’s face. The fact that she was blinking rapidly told him she was losing her patience and he had just about pushed his hand as far as he could. “Only if your men come to the Waverunner and pick them up.”

  “Mr. Tanner, we have ourselves an agreement.” Kal reached across the table and shook David’s hand. He exhaled in relief. Karinga, unable to contain himself further, giggled with glee.

  “Now, on to the wine,” Lady Malcoeur said. She picked up one of the bottles and wrinkling her nose, she examined the label. “What is this vintage called? Gylinian Seedless Swill?”

  * * * * * *

  Gabriel paced back and forth outside of the Grand Rectory. Bishop Malachi had been meeting with the council for three hours, but Gabriel needed to find out what had happened to his family. Three hours, three days, or three years, it didn’t matter. He would stay here until he spoke to Malachi.

  Eleenia had gone to the infirmary to help see to Liam Branvold. From the small amount Gabriel had heard, Liam had hardly spoken a word since he arrived. The other children were taken to the nunnery, where they would be looked after until other kinsmen could be found, or in the worst cases, they could be taken to the church’s orphanage.

  The warmth of the sun did little to comfort Gabriel as he continued to pace. His stomach was still in knots, and he felt as cold as the grave. Frustrated, he wrapped his green-lined blue cloak around him as he sat down on the ledge of the stone fountain. Gabriel sighed as he waited. His thoughts turned towards his brother Alexander. During his first two years of his training, Alexander had been a student at the University. While a Defender initiate had little free time, Gabriel had seen his brother as often as he could. They hadn’t really been close growing up. The only sibling Gabriel had ever been close to was Eleenia. Still, it was good to get to know Alexander as a brother, rather than the bully he had been when they were younger. By the time Alexander had graduated, Gabriel had finally been able to top him physically in both wrestling and with the sword. That was one of the benefits of the grueling training regimen Holy Defenders had to endure.

  Looking to the ground, Gabriel noticed the shadow of the upturned angel’s hands of the fountain. Above them, a rainbow stretched between the shadow’s palms, created by the sunlight refracting through the spray of water. Was God trying to comfort him? It must be so. Gabriel bowed his head and began to pray. He felt a little guilty, as since his elevation to high initiate he had been neglecting his prayer life. ‘A Defender without prayer is like a jouster without armor,’ Father Phillip would say in his spirituality class. Truth was, though, Gabriel had been angry with God for the death of his family and for the extra burden of Eleenia’s safety, which now he felt fell on his shoulders. Protecting her would be impossible, as a man cannot serve two masters. This fact had been tearing him apart. His prayers turned to Eleenia, that God would give her a good husband who would protect her, care for her, and be able to give her the life she deserved.

  Gabriel was brought out of his prayers by the black oak double doors of the Grand Rectory opening.
Quickly ending his prayer and making the sign of the cross, he stood up, anxious for Bishop Malachi’s emergence.

  The Bishop turned to the Templar Majoris, who was escorting him out. “And convey my thanks to The High Praetorian for sending the redcloaks as an escort.”

  “Of course, Your Grace,” Brother Carmen said.

  The Bishop leaned heavily against his walking staff as he made his way to the courtyard. Two Holy Defenders ceremonially accompanied him.

  Malachi noticed a figure standing in front of the fountain. Raising his hand to shield him from the late afternoon sun, he squinted to see who it was. The ends of his moustache turned upward in a smile as he recognized Gabriel.

  “You two gentlemen are dismissed. I must have a word with this initiate.”

  The two Defenders bowed. “Yes, Your Grace,” they said. Turning, they headed off towards the Defenders’ garrison.

  Gabriel stood and watched as the Bishop made his way towards the fountain. He clenched his fists as he tried to fight back tears. The best he could do was to limit his show of emotion to a quivering of his bottom lip.

  Malachi, upon reaching him, scooped Gabriel up in a hard, one-armed embrace. “Oh, my lad, I’m so sorry,” he said, still leaning upon his walking staff.

  Gabriel returned the embrace. Swallowing his emotions, he disengaged himself. “My apologies, Your Grace, for creating a spectacle, hounding you like some child.”

  “Nonsense,” Malachi said. He walked around Gabriel and sat his ample bottom upon the fountain ledge. “Here, Gabriel, sit down. You must have many questions, and I shall do my best to answer them.”

  Gabriel sat beside the Bishop, hands folded on his lap. “Your Grace, what happened to David? Why didn’t he come with you and the rest of the children?”

  “David wanted to stay with your father and brother,” Malachi said, looking towards the ground. “We tried to get him to come with us, but he got away. Alas, barring a miracle from on high, I am afraid he met the same fate as they did.”

  “The message from Lystra said he was buried with the rest of my family,” Gabriel said, trying his best to keep his voice from wavering. “But I have had this feeling that he was still alive! I have had dreams of him. Vivid dreams, with us fighting side by side. I don’t know if they are visions from the Holy Spirit or just my own imaginative hopes.”