A Sellsword's Compassion_Book One of the Seven Virtues

by Jacob Peppers

  “You prick bastard,” Glenn growled, starting forward.

  “Wait,” Adina said, stepping forward, “we’re not here for your money. Aaron, tell them!”

  “I don’t think they’ve a mind to listen just now,” he said his eyes shifting as the men fanned out around them.

  Then make them, Co said in a matter of fact tone as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

  Great idea, firefly. They look like reasonable people. I’m sure, if we promise them that we really really mean it, they’ll believe us.

  Listen, Co said in his mind, and he gasped and stumbled backward, barely managing to catch himself against the bar, as a storm of emotions swept over him with the force of a hurricane. Anger was a part of that storm, as was a grim satisfaction at being able to fight back, to hurt someone else, but they weren’t the biggest part. The biggest part was a bitter, wretched grief that nearly buckled his knees. A wave of grief so high, so powerful, that it threatened to drown him and, spread throughout it, riding on the crest of it and churning in its depths, a name. Someone’s name. Something, some—

  “Marla.” Aaron gasped, feeling as if the name had been ripped out of him, “her name’s Marla.” Glenn and the other men froze, staring at him with wide, frightened eyes.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” Glenn asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

  Aaron grabbed his temples against the impossible pressure that was building there, searching in that roiling maze of emotions, of feelings, for more. “I-it’s your daughter,” he said, “Marla. She’s sick, isn’t she?”

  Someone in the inn cursed. Someone else, Aaron thought it was the bartender, called on the name of Nalesh, Father of the Gods, and keeper of the world, in a hoarse whisper. Glenn glanced nervously at his friends before turning back to Aaron. The anger was gone from his expression, replaced by a wary confusion. “How … how could you know that?”

  “No, not just sick,” Aaron said, wincing as the man’s emotions pushed against him, “dying. She’s dying, isn’t she, Glenn?” It’s the medicine. You were saving for the medicine, but the tax collectors, they took it didn’t they? They took it all. But she doesn’t have to die, Glenn. You can still save her. It’s not too late.”

  “What do you know of it?” The man said, his voice bitter, “Claudius increased taxes, said that if we didn’t pay we’d lose our land, but if I lose my land, how am I gonna pay? How am I ever gonna get her the medicine she needs?”

  Aaron breathed a sigh of relief as the roiling sea of emotions receded, and he wiped an arm across his forehead that was suddenly bathed in sweat. “How much does it cost?” He asked, leaning against the bar, suddenly feeling more exhausted than if he’d run for miles. For a moment, the big man just looked at him stupidly. “The medicine, Glenn. How much does it cost?”

  “Seventy gold,” Glenn finally said and there were grumbles of discontent from around the room.

  Seventy gold, Aaron thought, surprised. No wonder the man was pissed. That was more money than most farmers made in a year’s worth of work. Only half conscious of what he was doing, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the small bag he’d been carrying, tossing it to the man who caught it with a look of surprise that turned to confusion as he heard the unmistakable jingle of the coins inside. “There’s a touch over two hundred gold there, Glenn. Make sure that Marla gets all the help she needs, alright?”

  Glenn’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Slowly, as if he expected a snake to jump out at him, he reached into the bag, and he grunted in surprise as he withdrew a handful of gold coins. “W-w-why?” He asked, “Why would you do this?”

  “Because I know what it’s like to watch someone you love die and not be able to do anything about it,” Aaron said, thinking of his mother and father lying in pools of their own blood,” and because, like the lady said, we’re not tax collectors.”

  “Thank you,” The big man breathed, his face working with emotion, “Thank you.” Abruptly, the hard lines of his face disappeared beneath a wide smile, “I’ll go right now! You hear that?” He shouted, looking around at the stunned expressions of the others in the inn, “She’s going to be okay.” After a moment, the stunned silence turned into clapping and cheers, but Aaron doubted Glenn heard; he was already running toward the door and barreling through it with a speed and strength Aaron wouldn’t have credited him with. Just as well I didn’t have to fight them, he thought. Then a hand touched him on the shoulder, and he turned to see the barkeeper looking shamefaced, his eyes studying the ground.

  “I uh … I’m sorry, mister. I had you wrong. I thought you were one of those tax collector assholes.”

  “Oh, I’m an asshole alright,” Aaron said with a small smile, “Just not one of those assholes.”

  Several of the people in the crowd laughed at that, nodding at him and grinning as if they’d all been friends for years. Always surprising, he thought as he nodded back, how a little money can change things.

  And a little kindness, Co spoke in his mind.

  Let’s not go too far, firefly. “We all thank you for helping Glenn, stranger,” the bartender said, ringing his hands like a man who’s trying to explain to his wife that the maid just happened to fall into the bed and, no, no he didn’t have any idea why her shirt had come off and her skirts were bunched around her waist. “Kaser’s a small town,” the man continued, “and like a lot of small towns, I guess we look at one another like family. Glenn weren’t the only one shed a tear or two over little Marla; I can promise you that.” Several of the bar’s patrons voiced their agreement to this. “We took up donations,” the bartender continued, “but truth to tell, it’s all we can do to eat, and we can’t do much of that, what with the way Claudius has been taxin’ us to the bone.” The man’s eyebrows drew down thoughtfully, “Still, I’d be mighty interested in how you knew about little Marla, what with you bein’ a stranger and all.”

  Aaron froze for a minute then, finally, he shrugged, “A man gets a certain look when he’s got a sick loved one. As for knowing the girl’s name, well, I heard some folks talking about it on my way through town.”

  The bartender let out a self-deprecating laugh, “Course you did,” he said shaking his head, “course you did. I mean how else could you’ve known?”

  Aaron smiled, “How else?”

  The man reached across the counter and offered his hand. “Name’s Herbert Barton. Folks ‘round here just call me Herb.”

  “Nice to meet you, Herb. I’m Aaron,” he said, shaking the man’s hand and taking his seat at the bar once more, “Now, how about that drink?”

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  Adina watched, stunned, as Aaron and the bartender, Herb, talked and joked as if they’d been best friends since childhood. A few minutes ago, everyone in the common room had been studying them as if they carried the plague. Now, they were grinning and talking in excited whispers, a few of them even going so far as to come up and shake the sellsword’s hand.

  For his part, Aaron took the attention in stride, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Gone was the suspicious, greedy sellsword she’d first met. In his place, was a smiling, laughing man who seemed completely comfortable with everyone and everything around him. In fact, he looked as if he was actually enjoying himself.

  “Good at this, isn’t he?” Gryle asked in a whisper. “There are few men or women who can put a room at ease so smoothly. Do you think, mistress, that he might be of noble blood?”

  Not likely, Adina thought, feeling a stab of jealousy. She’d been trained since she was a child in all of the noble arts including diplomacy, yet she doubted that even she could have done as well as the sellsword, and she knew that it wasn’t just the coins. The money had made them like him, true, but judging by the looks in several of the women’s eyes, and the jovial pats on the back from several of the men, they were well past liking. “I’m sure you would know more of that than I, Gryle.” She answered, struggling to keep her ton
e neutral.

  The chamberlain must have heard something in her voice because he cleared his throat nervously. “He is, of course, not close to my lady’s own decorum and grace.”

  Adina nodded at the chubby man to set him at ease, but her gaze didn’t leave Aaron. The man was maddening. Every time she was sure she had him figured out, he did something that went completely against everything she thought she knew about him. It was a disturbing, disconcerting situation for a woman who’d been taught her entire life to see past people’s masks to their true intentions. If her childhood in her father’s court had taught her anything, it was that most people were nothing if not accomplished liars and charlatans when it suited them, and nobles often the most deceitful of all.

  She’d thought herself a master of seeing past such conceits, but Aaron insisted on proving her wrong again and again. It was as if the man had made a full time job of making her feel like a fool.

  Why had he given the farmer with the sick child all of his gold? It didn’t make sense. Not that that was the worst of it, of course. What she couldn’t wrap her head around was how he knew about the little girl at all. She supposed it was possible that it had happened as he’d said; that he really had heard someone mention the child, but she was with him the entire time, and she didn’t remember anything of the kind. But if he hadn’t heard then … no. He must have. There was simply no other explanation.

  “Isn’t that right, Gertrude?” It wasn’t until Aaron nudged her in the side, jerking her away from her own thoughts, that she realized he was talking to her.

  “I’m … I’m sorry?”

  He rolled his eyes long-sufferingly and winked at the innkeeper. “You’ll have to pardon my sister, Herb. She’s bad about disappearing into her own little world from time to time. When we were kids, she pretended to be a princess. Now that we’re adults, I hesitate to imagine what she fantasizes about.” The bartender barked a laugh, and Aaron turned back to Adina, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, “Herb was just offering us a free place for the night. I was telling him that we really don’t have the time. We’ve got to be on our way.”

  Adina felt her face flushing an angry red. I’d like to take the time to knock that smug grin off your face, you pompous bastard. The thought helped relax her, and she didn’t have to try hard to summon a smile of her own, “Of course, you’re right, dear brother,” she said in a voice that thoroughly oozed sweetness, “Sadly, we do not have the time. As for my mind wandering, I apologize. Sometimes, I find that if one wishes to find interesting people she must imagine them, lest she go mad with boredom.”

  Herb laughed again, apparently not noticing the sellsword’s frown, and patting his stomach in a way that must have been habit back when there’d been plenty of food, and he’d had a stomach to pat. “You’ve got a live one there, Aaron. Got a little fire in her, your sister does.”

  “True,” Aaron said after a moment. He smiled then, but this time it appeared forced. “She’s made a habit of rudeness. It’s no wonder she’s still single.”

  Adina opened her mouth, preparing a scathing retort, but Herb, not noticing the anger flash in her bright blue eyes, continued on as if nothing had happened, “What is it that you’re in such a hurry for, anyway?” He glanced at the blades at Aaron’s side, and the sword sheathed on his back, as if seeing them for the first time, “Hold on a minute. Let me guess. You’re heading for Baresh.”

  The princess felt Gryle tense beside her. Aaron’s smile remained in place, but his hazel eyes got that suspicious, searching look she was beginning to know well. “Why do you say that?”

  Herb shrugged as if it was obvious, “We’re simple folk here in Krase, Aaron, but even a fool of an innkeeper knows that nobody around these parts could afford the kind of steel you got strapped to you unless he decided to try a year without eatin’—not that we’re far from it, mind. That’s why we took you and your friends for tax collectors before. Every time they come, Claudius sends one or two men with ‘em to protect em. Really sour looking sons of bitches they are too. The way I see it, if you ain’t here to take our money—don’t worry, I know you’re not now—then you’re heading to Baresh for the tournament.”

  Aaron took a pull of his ale, “Tournament?”

  Herb laughed as if he’d just told a joke. When the sellsword and the others didn’t join in, he raised his eyebrows in surprise, “What, you been livin’ under a rock or somethin’? The contest that bastard Claudius is holdin’. Me, well, I reckon it’s hard enough for a man to survive in this world without risking getting his fool head beat in over a few of gold coins, but what do I know, eh?”

  “How much is a few?” Aaron asked, a hungry look in his eyes that Adina didn’t like at all.

  The bartender shrugged, “A thousand? Maybe two? When it gets so high, it all seems meaningless to me. Why, a hundred or two would get you everything I own and the shirt off my back in the bargain. Anyway, aside from the money, the winner gets to have an audience with Claudius himself.” He snorted, “Personally, I’d tell ‘em to keep their money if it kept me from having to talk with that fat bastard.”

  “A thousand, maybe two,” Aaron mused, running his hand across his chin, “and an audience with Claudius himself. You said it’s going to be held in Baresh?”

  Herb nodded, “That’s right. They say it’s on account of Claudius has some important announcement for the people after the event. Not that I know how much truth there is to that, you understand.”

  The three shared a worried look. There was only one thing they could all imagine Claudius would want to tell his people. Hey guys, so I hope you enjoyed the competition. No? That’s great. Hey, listen, remember how Eladen fought against Belgarin? Well, turns out Belgarin’s your new ruler. Have a nice day.

  “He must be out of his mind if he thinks Eladen’s people will follow him” Adina whispered disbelievingly. “Gerald and Ophasia were one thing; Eladen is quite another. He cared deeply for his people, and they cared deeply for him. They won’t sit idly by—“ Aaron grasped her arm warningly and she came to a halting stop. She looked at Herb and saw that the bartender was watching her suspiciously. “Or … that’s what I think anyway,” she finished lamely.

  “You’ll have to pardon my sister,” Aaron said, shrugging his shoulders and giving the bartender a --women-what-can-you-do? look, “she makes a past time of studying the different princes and princesses. Don’t ask me what for. I always figured that there were two things that a man would be a fool to try to figure out—politics and women—and in my experience it’s a lot more fun trying to understand the latter. Not to mention,” he added, staring at Adina, “that talking about politics doesn’t make a lot of friends.”

  Adina held her breath, not having to pretend at the deep, embarrassed blush that crept up her cheeks. Herb studied her for another moment through narrowed eyes then nodded and turned to Aaron, “You’ve got that right. As far as I’m concerned, all the royal bastards could take a quick trip through the Keeper’s Fields, and the world’d be better for it.”

  The princess opened up her mouth to tell the man just how much she cared about his opinion, but the sellsword’s grip tightened on her arm, and she remained silent. He winked at the innkeeper conspiratorially, “Still, there’s that one … what’s her name … Adina? That one’s pretty enough to make a criminal out of an honest man and an honest man out of a criminal the way I hear it.”

  Herb snorted, “I don’t give a damn if the woman shits gold and spits sunflowers; a man would be crazy to get mixed up with any of her kind. Besides, I doubt she’d have ya. Word is,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, another gesture which Adina was beginning to suspect had become a habit, “the brothers and sisters spend more time together than is strictly … proper, if you catch my meanin.”

  Aaron cleared his throat. “This tournament,” He said, deciding it was time to change the subject, “Just when is our esteemed leader, planning to hold it?”

  The bartender shook his h
ead wonderingly, “You really must have been living under a rock. Folks have been flappin’ their jaws about that damned contest so much lately it’s a wonder that there’s any air left for breathin’. It’s supposed to start in a fortnight. They say that Claudius has went all out for it, that he’s spending gold like it’s piss. I don’t guess we gotta guess where the money’s coming from.”

  Aaron grunted in agreement, “No, I don’t guess we do.”

  Gryle let out a squeaking, exhausted yawn, and Herb shook his head. “You sure you folks don’t want to spend the night? I’d be happy to have ya. Like I said, the rooms are free, of course. After what you done for Glenn, it’s the least I can do.”

  Aaron considered for a moment, “You said that the contest is in a fortnight?”

  Herb nodded, “That’s right.”

  “And how far is Baresh from here?”

  “Less than a week’s travel.”

  Aaron glanced questioningly at the princess, and she nodded. “We will stay the night,” she said, “but we’ll pay for our rooms.” Her voice was tight with barely restrained anger, but if the innkeeper noticed, he gave no sign.

  Herb shrugged, “Suit yourself. I won’t lie and tell you that I couldn’t use the money, but truth is you’d be doin’ me a favor. Some of the town folk used to come, drink more than was wise, and rent a room for the night instead of makin’ the trip home, but now, what with money so scarce, folks has been takin’ their chances on the roads. It ain’t right for a room to stay empty so long. It gets … well, it gets a certain feel to it.”

  “We’ll pay just the same,” Adina said.

  The bartender nodded, “Alright then. I imagine you’re hungry. We ain’t got much—cabbage stew with more water than cabbage—but it takes the edge off anyway. You’re welcome to it.”