A Sellsword's Compassion_Book One of the Seven Virtues

by Jacob Peppers

  Adina pursed her nose, “No th—“

  “We’d be happy to have some,” Aaron interrupted, “it’s kind of you to offer, Herb. You’re a good man.”

  The innkeeper snorted, “Bite your tongue ‘for somebody hears you.” He turned to a small door behind the bar, “Paula. Paula.” A young girl, no more than ten summers, stepped into view, and Adina winced out how painfully thin she was. She wore a simple cotton dress, and the arms and legs that the princess could see looked like little more than twigs. “What’s the matter, girl,” Herb asked, “you got cotton stuffed in your ears again?”

  “No, daddy,” the girl said, smiling.

  Herb smiled back his gruff exterior gone, “Listen, sweetheart. You think you could show these folks to their rooms? There’s a piggy back ride in it for you if you do.”

  The girl’s eyebrows drew down, “I’m too old for piggy back rides, daddy,” she said, her voice serious, “Momma says I’m almost a young lady.”

  The bartender grunted a laugh, “Well, maybe I’m not too old for ‘em, what do you say to that? As for you becoming a young woman, well, gods help the man who picks you to marry.”

  The girl crinkled her nose in disgust, “I’m not going to marry. Boys are dumb and they smell.”

  Herb put on a hurt expression and sniffed himself thoughtfully.

  Paula rolled her eyes, “Not you. You’re not a boy. You’re daddy.”

  “Alright then,” Herb said, leaning over and kissing her on the forehead, “You think you can show these good folks to their room for your dumb and smelly dad?”

  The girl giggled again, “You’re silly, daddy.” She turned to the others and raised her nose in the air, a gesture that displayed her too thin face and neck, “This way if you please.” She said with the tone of a great queen escorting privileged guests through her castle.

  Adina forced back the tears that were threatening to spill out, “After you, madam,” she said with a curtsey. The girl nodded, as if this was her just due and headed toward the stairs.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  Alone in her room, Adina washed up in a small basin of warm water Herb had brought up, luxuriating in feeling clean for the first time in what felt like forever. She took her time, enjoying the comfort the warm water brought to her sore muscles. Once she was finished she lay down in the room’s small, simple bed and was surprised by how comfortable it felt; more comfortable, in fact, than she ever remembered her own silk-sheeted bed being. Time passed and despite her body’s weariness she found herself tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Through the wall, she could hear Gryle snoring so loudly that it sounded as if a small thunderstorm was taking place in the next room. Gryle had been her father’s chamberlain before he was her own, and his snores had been nothing short of legendary in King Marcus’s court, yet it was her own racing thoughts, not the chamberlain’s heavy breathing that kept her awake.

  She found herself thinking of the young girl, Paula, of her sunken cheeks and her dangerously thin arms and legs, of Claudius and the approaching contest, and of the Parnen captain and his loyal first mate, but mostly she thought of Aaron. The sellsword liked to pretend that he didn’t care about anyone else, yet he’d saved her on the rowboat when the man attacked her, and he’d been quick enough to offer Glenn the money to help his little girl and, come to think of it, how had he known about that anyway? The more she considered it, the more she became convinced that no one had been talking about it on their way into town. But how else could he have possibly known?

  He couldn’t have, that was all, yet he had. It didn’t make sense, and if there was one thing Adina hated, it was when things didn’t make sense. She wanted to, no she needed to know. Frustrated, she rose, got dressed, and crept quietly down the hall to Aaron’s room. She froze, her fist balled to knock, realizing that he was probably asleep. A moment’s thought was enough for her to decide that she hoped he was asleep. It would serve him right for the way he’d talked about her to the innkeeper, not to mention the outrageous way he’d treated her on the Clandestine, as if all the world’s problems were her fault. When she knocked, she might have done so a bit louder than was strictly necessary.

  “Come in,” he called from inside, and she was disappointed to note that he sounded completely awake.

  She walked through the door and closed it shut behind her. He was sitting on a stool, his face lathered with soap, a small knife in one hand. A bucket of water sat on the counter in front of him. He turned and raised an eyebrow at her, “Oh, it’s you. I thought it might have been Herb’s girl bringing the soup.”

  “Paula,” she said, her face heating. He’d taken his shirt off to shave, and her eyes were drawn to the sculpted muscle of his arms and chest, and to the taut flatness of his stomach. She shook her head as if to clear it, “Her name was Paula.”

  He nodded, continuing to shave, thankfully not having noticed her stare, “That’s right, Paula. Funny, I wouldn’t have taken Herb for a family man, but he’s good wi—“

  “How did you know?” She blurted, pulling her eyes away from his muscled frame with an effort.

  “How did I know what?” He asked as he sat the blade down and splashed his face with water from the bowl.

  “About the girl, Marla. How did you know she was sick?”

  He grabbed a hand towel off the counter and began to dry off. He hesitated, then shrugged, “I told you. Someone in town was talking about it when we went by.”

  “I don’t remember anyone saying anything about it.”

  He met her eyes for a second then shrugged again. “I guess you must not have been paying attention.”

  She sighed. There was no point in asking him further. True or not, she knew what he would say, and the fact was his explanation was the only thing that made sense. That, or that he was some sort of mystic who could pull the thoughts out of a person’s mind. “Fine, but why did you give Glenn the money?”

  Aaron grunted, “What else was I gonna do? Did you see the look on their faces? Make no mistake, princess, everyone in that inn meant to see us dead.”

  Adina was shaking her head before he was finished, “That’s not why,” she said sharply, surprising herself with her anger, “You gave it to him because you wanted to help the girl. Why won’t you just admit that?”

  He flicked a hand carelessly as if shooing away a fly, “What do I care about a girl I’ve never met?”

  Adina took a step closer to him, “You don’t mean it,” she said, her voice a quiet, pleading whisper, “I know you don’t. Downstairs, you told them it was because—“

  “I told them exactly what they wanted to hear,” he growled, his eyes hard, “I told them what I needed to to keep breathing, and if they think it was because of some sick little girl, well, all the better.”

  “Liar,” Adina shouted and before she knew it, her hand lashed out, striking the sellsword across the face. “What’s wrong with you?” She shouted as everything that had happened in the past few weeks, her brother’s death, learning of the people in the north starving, and nearly being killed herself, came crashing down in her mind like jagged bolts of lightning, “How can you be so cruel?”

  Aaron didn’t move. He just stood, watching her with that blank, dead stare. “Damn you,” she snarled, “don’t you feel anything?” She reached out to slap him again, but he caught her hand casually, as if she were no more than a child. “People are dying and you don’t even care.”

  She thought she saw something flash across his eyes then, a thinly-veiled grief so vast that it was like seeing the peak of a massive underwater mountain, but in the next moment it was gone, and the cold, uncaring hardness had returned to his eyes.

  “Enough,” he said, his voice hoarse as he jerked her close to him, so close that she could feel his breath on her face, could feel the heat of him and the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her, “that’s enough.”

  She felt tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks, and she was furi
ous with herself for crying in front of him, furious with him for making her cry. She lashed out with her other hand, but he caught it, too, and pulled her closer still, so that their faces were only inches apart, “Let go of me,” She hissed between sudden tears, “You’re not even a man. You’re a … a monster!” She tried to say something more, but the tears were coming heavier now, coming in great, racking sobs and he held her against him as she buried her face in his chest and cried the way she hadn’t since she was a child.

  “I am what the world’s made me,” he said in a whisper so low that she could barely hear it, as if he wasn’t speaking to her at all but to himself.

  He paused, as if he was going to say something more, but he did not, and he held her in silence as she cried tears for Eladen, for Ophasia, and Geoffrey, and all of the people who had suffered because of Belgarin. After a time, she managed to get herself under control, but she did not pull away. He felt so real against her, so alive, the warmth of his chest and the beating of his heart that she could feel as if it were her own, and in that moment there was no Belgarin, was no war or hunger, no suffering or uncertainty. There was only the two of them, wrapped in a bubble of time, a bubble so fragile that she was terrified to move lest she break it. “Please, Aaron,” she mumbled against his chest, “I saw you, I heard your voice. I know you meant it.” She glanced up into his eyes and again she imagined that she could see a terrible grief there, a great, crippling loss that no person should have to endure, and she cupped his face in one of her hands. His eyes closed for a moment, and she felt him lean into her touch. “You don’t have to be alone, Aaron,” she whispered, “You don’t. It’s okay to care.” He swallowed hard but didn’t answer.

  She craned her neck and met his gaze, not the cold, hardened stare of the man he thought he wanted to be, the man who cared for no one, who needed no one, but the man he was. A man who didn’t want to care, a man who was too terrified to care and then, without thinking, she leaned forward, closing her eyes and letting her lips brush against his softly, so softly, like the faint trace of a feather on bare skin. “You’re scared to get close,” she whispered, knowing it was true as she said it, “You’re scared to let anyone know you.” She ran her other hand through his hair, down his neck, and slowly, gently, down the ridged scars on his back. “But I’m close. I know you.”

  He tensed beneath her hands, opened his mouth to speak, then suddenly snarled as he tore himself out of her grasp, breathing hard, his eyes wild like those of a wounded, cornered animal. “You don’t know anything,” he shouted, and Adina took a shocked, frightened step back. “What?” He asked in a harsh voice, “You think because you’ve seen my scars that all of a sudden you’ve got me figured out, huh? Just another commoner to be pitied, another mongrel dog that you can toss some food to and then go riding in your palanquin to one of your fancy balls and feeling good about your charity?”

  “T-that’s not true,” she stammered, “I know you. I know that you care about that little girl. I know that you care about—“

  “No, I don’t,” he shouted, cutting her off. “I care about your money, and I care about being left alone, now how about you just--” He stopped abruptly, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the wildness that had been there was gone. In its place was the same blank, dead stare that made Adina’s skin go cold. “You should leave,” he said in a tired, hoarse voice, “I’m tired, and I’m going to get some rest. That’s if I can with your chamberlain snoring like a bear in heat.”

  “You don’t want me to leave,” she said, shaking her head, “I know you don’t. There’s a reason why you’re here. You could have left by now.”

  He snorted in disgust, “Just how stupid are you, lady? I’m here because you pay me. All I care about is making money and keeping breathin.’ You can go slumming with some other fool.”

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she brought a hand to her chest, “Is that what you think? Is that … forget it. Fine.” She turned, opened the door and stopped, her body trembling. “After you finish the job, I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  He shrugged, “Fine with me.”

  She took a step then glanced back at him, “If all you care about is money and staying alive, then what’s the point? Did you ever think of that? What’s the point?”

  Aaron stared to respond, but the princess was already gone, the door slamming shut behind her.

  He stood there, staring at the door in silence, his chest heaving with some great emotion. After a time, the Virtue started to speak, Aaron, w—

  “Mind your own damn business, firefly,” he muttered, his eyes still locked on the door, part of him hoping that Adina would come back, part of him praying that she wouldn’t. She did not return and eventually he walked to the small bed and slumped onto it wearily, resting his head in his hands.

  You try so hard not to care, but you do anyway. Why? Why do you insist on living your life alone?

  He took a deep breath and crossed his hands behind his head as he leaned back in the bed, “What do you know?” He asked, suddenly more tired than he ever remembered being. Unbidden, his mind drifted to the way Adina’s lips had felt, soft and moist and right. He pushed the thought away angrily. “In this world, everyone is out to take what you have,” he said in a whisper, not sure if he was talking to the Virtue or himself and not caring either way, “Better not to have anything worth taking. Better not to have anything at all.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  The next morning, he walked downstairs to find the princess and the chamberlain already sitting at the bar. The tables of the common room were empty save two old men who sat and talked in hushed whispers, hunched over their mugs of ale protectively. At the end of the counter, a young, red-haired boy of no more than fifteen was speaking with a pretty, older woman whom Aaron suspected was Herb’s wife. Adina pointedly avoided his gaze, and Gryle was too busy yawning heavily and rubbing a meaty fist at his eyes to notice him walk up. “Hey, Aaron,” The innkeeper said, pausing in cleaning the bar to smile at him.

  Aaron nodded at him, “Mornin’ Herb,” he said, “Hey, I was wondering, are there any horses for sale in this town?”

  The innkeeper’s brow drew down in thought for a moment. “Not for sale, no, but I’ve got a couple of mules I use to go to the city when we need supplies. Why do you ask?”

  Aaron winked, “I need to get to Baresh in a hurry. I hear tale of a contest where a man could win his fortune. I’ll buy ‘em from you for a fair price.”

  Herb shook his head, “No, you can’t buy ‘em, but I’ll let you use ‘em, sure enough. After you and your sister’s kindness, it’d be my pleasure.”

  Aaron glanced at Adina, wondering what “kindness” she had shown, but she didn’t meet his gaze. He turned back to the innkeeper and nodded, “Alright then.”

  “Good,” Herb said, “that’s settled. Now we’ll just have to find someone to guide you there, that and bring my mules back, of course.”

  “I’ll do it.” They all turned to see the fiery-headed youth rush forward, nearly tripping in his haste. The boy puffed out his chest, and Aaron noted that he kept glancing at Adina nervously, as if for approval. Great, he thought with an inward groan, just what I need.

  Herb grunted, a hint of a smile on his face, “Peter, doesn’t your pa need you on the farm?”

  The boy’s face twisted in anger, “Not now he don’t. We can’t afford seed to plant most of the fields on account of the collectors. Besides, I’ll be back in less than a fortnight, and I know the way better’n most—pa’s sent me on supply runs to Baresh for the last three years runnin’.” He flashed a quick, shy look at the princess, “I can get ‘em there safe.”

  Herb grinned and winked at Aaron. “Well, it’s up to you three. The boy knows the way, that’s certain, and he’s got a good head on his shoulders—as much as a boy his age can, anyway.” The red headed youth’s chest puffed out even more at the innkeeper’s words.

  “I don�
�t know—“ Aaron began.

  “That would be perfect,” Adina interrupted, “thank you, Peter, was it?” She smiled at the boy, and Aaron fought back the urge to frown. Careful, kid, he thought, I’ve seen that smile before. Next comes folks trying to cut your fool head off. “I’m sure,” the princess continued, “that we’ll make it there safely with your help.”

  The boy’s face turned a deep crimson, “Y-yes, ma’am.”

  She turned to Aaron with a smirk, “We’ll let you men finish the details. Peter, would you mind showing me and my friend to the carriage?”

  “Excuse me, Miss,” the boy said nervously, “but it’s not much of a carriage. More of a cart really, and not a very b—“

  “That’ll do just fine,” she interrupted sharply.

  Peter nodded quickly and headed out the door, the princess behind. Gryle glanced thoughtfully between Adina’s departing back, and Aaron before shrugging helplessly at the sellsword and following her out.

  Herb waited until the door closed then barked a laugh, “Gods help you I think the boy’s got a crush on your sister.”

  Aaron sighed, “So it would seem.”

  “Tell me,” the innkeeper said, his voice suddenly serious, “are you really considering entering the contest?”

  “Why not?”

  Herb shook his head, “You know your business, of course, but I’d be careful, Aaron. That kind of gold will attract swordsmen and knights from all across the country. Men who have spent their entire lives training for competitions just like this, and with that kind of money on the line they won’t be pulling any punches.”

  The sellsword grinned, “I hope not. That wouldn’t make things very interesting, would it?”

  Herb snorted, “You’re a good man, Aaron, but you’re a crazy bastard. Just make sure to be careful up there, and come back and visit us if you can. We can always use more folk like you in town.”

  Aaron nodded and rose from the stool, “Alright then. Thanks for letting us borrow your cart, Herb. I’ll be seein’ ya.” He started toward the door and stopped, “Oh, and Herb.”