A Sellsword's Compassion_Book One of the Seven Virtues

by Jacob Peppers

  “Please, that’s enough,” A woman’s voice, fraught with worry.

  Slowly, reluctantly, the hand pulled away. Aaron gagged at the slimy, cloying foulness coating the inside of his throat and waited for death to claim him. When it didn’t, he slowly opened his eyes and stared in surprise. Instead of the soldiers or assassins he’d expected, the stooped, gray-haired proprietor of the waystop, Naya, stood above him. The old woman’s hair was pulled back into a bun so tight that it stretched her leathery, wrinkled face. She was frowning, “I never would have took a big man like you for such a baby. Why, Ed used to love my Shalta tea, used to wake up every mornin’ and ask for it. Besides, I told you, you have to drink it all.”

  Aaron was just opening his mouth to tell the old hag that asking for the tea had been her husband’s idea of suicide when Adina spoke, “I’m sure he just forgot, Naya. It was my fault—I kept him up talking too long yesterday.”

  The old woman shook her head as she turned to the princess, “You’re too soft on him, dear. It does a man good to suffer every once and a while,” she glowered at him with her milky, gray eyes, “keeps him from doin’ a fool thing like runnin’ off and getting himself carved up like a fairday turkey.”

  “Ouch!” Came a shout from the other room, and the old woman sighed, “That Gryle seems a good enough sort, but he’s got less sense in the kitchen than the gods gave a rock.” She tsked, “A woman’s work is never done. Dear, do you need anything while I’m keeping that kind-hearted fool from killing himself?”

  “No, thank you,” Adina said.

  The woman nodded once before glancing back at Aaron. “As for you, I’ll be bringing by another cup of Shalta in a few hours—you’ve lost a lot of blood, and you need to get your strength back. I’d remind you to drink it all up, but I don’t think you’ll forget again, will you?’ She grinned, displaying her few remaining teeth, “Not unless you liked your wakin’ this morning, that is.” Not bothering to wait for a response, she turned and shuffled out of the room. Aaron could hear her shouts as she headed toward the kitchen. Poor Gryle, he thought, but he was just glad that someone else would be bearing the brunt of her attentions for a while, at least.

  “That old hag works for Belgarin,” he said, “I’m certain of it. Probably his chief torturer.”

  Adina let out a soft, throaty giggle, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear, and he found himself smiling despite the foul taste in his mouth. “Naya’s not so bad. She’s just worried about you.”

  He grunted, “Trying to drown me’s a funny way of showing it.”

  She smiled, “Listen, Aaron. Naya says that it will be another two or three days before you’re able to move around much. We tried, no one can say different, but we’re going to have to find another way to get to Claudius.”

  He glanced at his bandaged shoulder and arm and flexed them, wincing at how stiff they were. “There’s not another way, Adina. We both know that.” He took a deep breath and swung his legs over the side of the bed, straining with the effort. He paused a moment to gather himself, ignoring the cold sweat that had broken out on his forehead as he levered his way to his feet.

  He swayed dizzily for a moment and was forced to catch himself on the nightstand. Adina moved forward to catch him, but he waved her away, taking a deep breath and trying to accustom himself to the bright, hot pain that seemed to fill every muscle, every joint. “I’m okay,” he said through clenched teeth, “and if I can walk, I can ride. We leave now.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY

  The old woman shook her head as she studied the three of them scornfully, “It’s a foolish thing to travel when you’re on the mend. I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry, but you’ll undo all of my hard work for nothing.”

  Aaron sighed, “I understand that you don’t like it, ma’am, but we have to go just the same.” Of course he understood. It would be impossible not to considering that she’d spent the last hour telling him exactly how much of a horse’s ass he was for leaving while they were preparing for the journey. “And trust me,” he said, glancing at Adina’s worried expression, “It’s not for nothing.”

  Naya’s wrinkled face screwed up in a frown and she hocked and spat, “Well, the only thing more foolish than a fool is the man that tries to reason with one as my Ed always said. At least that boy, Peter, was smart enough to get away from ya while he could. ”

  From what the princess and Gryle had told him, Peter had left shortly after Aaron’s bloody arrival. Not that he blamed the youth. There were plenty of ways for death to find you without going and courting it. He was thankful, however, that the youth had been kind enough to leave them the cart and mules—extracting a promise from the chamberlain that he’d send them back to Kraser as soon as possible—before borrowing a horse from Naya and hauling ass back home. In truth, Aaron was glad the boy was gone. Better that than having to watch him gawk at the princess for another day or two. He forced a smile and nodded to the old hag, “Your husband must have been a wise man.”

  The proprietor of the way stop snorted, “Ed was a fool, like every man I’ve ever met, but I loved him anyway.” She glanced at the princess meaningfully, “You be careful, dear, and if you ever need help, you just call on old Naya.”

  Adina smiled her radiant smile, “”Thank you, Naya, for everything that you’ve done. He would have died without you.”

  The woman dismissed the thanks with a wave of her hand, nodded, and without another word disappeared inside, closing the door behind her.

  “She scares me,” Gryle said, his voice little more than a squeak.

  Aaron started to laugh, but he remembered the woman’s grin as she’d poured that horrid drink down his throat, and his humor vanished. Me too, he thought. “Come on. We don’t have any time to lose.”

  Gryle and the princess had to help him climb in the cart, but after a lot of grunting and cursing, they managed it. They traveled for the rest of the day, pushing on as the sun sank into the horizon, and the darkness spread out around them like a sable quilt. Aaron had just about decided that it was time to stop despite the feeling of urgency that had been building in him since they left Naya’s when they crested a hill, and saw Baresh in the distance.

  He let out a low whistle. Though Eladen’s capital was still some distance ahead, there was no missing it. The massive, sprawling city was full of thousands of lanterns, torches, and fires, their glow mingling together so that it didn’t look like a city at all, but like some massive star that had fallen out of the sky and that, even now, was burning with its own silent heat. “A hard place to miss.”

  “It appears as if Claudius has gone all out for the tournament,” Adina said, her voice stiff with anger.

  Aaron nodded, staring at the city in the distance, at the lights flickering there. Since meeting the princess and taking the job, he’d lost track of the amount of times he’d nearly been killed. If he was being honest with himself, he’d never expected them to make it to the city at all, had expected them to die along the way, but his sense of relief was blunted by a growing anxiety. Among those dancing lights sparkling in the distance like fool’s gold, in a castle guarded by hundreds of soldiers, the object of their journey waited. He took a slow breath, forcing the fear down. It was not the thought of his death that frightened him, not really. It was the thought that he would fail. That, when the moment came, he wouldn’t be fast enough, clever enough, and they would all die for nothing.

  Somewhere in the night that surrounded them, Belgarin and his army marched toward the city, preparing to take it and its people over. Somewhere, Aster and his men combed the countryside in search of Aaron and his companions. Too many enemies. Too many men that would be happy to see him and those with him hang or worse. “Ah, to the Keeper with it,” he said, “we’ve made it this far.”

  “What was that, sir?” Gryle said.

  “Nothing,” Aaron said, flexing his bandaged left arm at the stiffness brought on by the wound. He fought back a grim
ace at the pain, turned to the others, and gave a single nod. “It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Two bored looking guards stood in front of the massive wrought-iron gates of the city. They wore Eladen’s colors, blue and white, and as Aaron and the others approached, they stepped in front of the mules, forcing them to stop. One of the guards held a torch that blazed fitfully in his hand. He moved to the side of the cart, and Aaron squinted eyes accustomed to the darkness as the guard held the torch high, studying them. “What is your business in Baresh, strangers?” He asked, and by the bored, almost annoyed way he said it, Aaron could tell it was a question he’d had to ask often lately.

  “Good evening, sir,” Aaron said, holding a hand up to block the worst of the light, “We’ve come for the contest.”

  The guard ran a hand thoughtfully through his thick, coarse black beard and eyed the three of them, his gaze lingering on Adina. “All of ye?”

  “Just me. This is my wife,” he indicated Adina. “And this,” he said, gesturing to Gryle, “is our servant.”

  The guard nodded slowly as he scrutinized Aaron. “Lookit, Garl,” he said, turning to the other guard, “we’ve got us another would-be champion.” The man named Garl chuckled at this, and the talkative guard nodded, “Well, best of luck to ya. How about you leave your woman with us for a while?” He winked lasciviously at the princess, “We’ll be sure to show her a good time while you play at soldiering.”

  Adina’s hand on his stopped Aaron from drawing his sword. “I’ve always heard,” the princess said, her voice calm, “that Baresh was one of the safest cities in Telrear, and it’s leader, Eladen, one of the most noble men in the land. I wonder how he would feel if he learned that his gate guards were harassing visitors to his fine city?”

  The guard’s smile soured, “Got a tongue on ya, haven’t ya, lass? Seein’ as you haven’t heard, the prince hasn’t been around the city for some time. The way folks tell it, he turned coward and ran. I don’t guess he’d have much to say about it one way or the other.”

  “And what of General Deckard, the Captain of the Guard?” Adina asked innocently, “has he also disappeared?”

  The man’s frown deepened, but he motioned to a man in the guard house and, in a moment, the heavy, wrought-iron gate began to rise. The guard stepped out of the way of the cart and motioned brusquely, “Get you and your woman inside before I change my mind—though I’d probably be doing you a favor. Some of the finest blades in all of Telrear have come for the tourney, even a few of the masters like Nico Swiftblade and Boris Braveheart themselves—Garl here seen ‘em with his own two eyes.” The man smiled then, but there was no humor in it, “What chance does a country bumpkin like yourself have against the likes of them, do you reckon?”

  Aaron smiled back, “I guess we’ll see won’t we? You boys stay warm out here.”

  Though it was approaching midnight, the streets of the city were packed with visitors from all over Telrear. Children ran between the carts crowding the lane and the gathered people, laughing and chasing each other, oblivious of the cold or the thick press of bodies, unconcerned with the world that existed outside of their game. Aaron watched them, wondering if he’d ever been so young.

  They led the cart past a group of southerners, their skins the color of burnished bronze from hours spent under the blazing sun of their homeland. They wore the thin, one-piece garments known as Calavars that left little but their eyes revealed. The fine material allowed them to maintain their modesty in the scorching temperature of their homeland without passing out from heat exhaustion, but, judging by their appearance, it did little to warm them in the frigid, northern night. They stood in the street shivering, wrapping their arms tightly around themselves as they gawked at the dozens of stands lining the road.

  Merchants selling goods ranging from roasted sticks of beef and meat pies to charms that promised to ward off ailments for something as simple as the common cold to something as permanent as death itself, shouted at passersby. As they continued down the avenue, Aaron saw men and women from the land of Parnen wearing simple, unadorned clothes and walking in the quiet, unobtrusive manner characteristic of their race, their eyes on the ground in front of them, their shoulders hunched as if in expectation of a blow. He wondered, idly, what they would make of the captain, Leomin. If, that was, the man was still alive.

  He pushed the thought behind him, and they continued on. It was slow going with the crowd, but eventually they passed the last of the merchant’s stalls. Here, away from the outer edges of the city, less people walked the streets, and those who did didn’t share the wide-eyed excitement of those closer to the gates. Instead, they walked with tired strides, no doubt locals or visitors who’d had a rough night making their way to their lodgings. Here and there he could make out the graceful, purposeful strides of fighting men and women, no doubt come to prove themselves in the tournament. He stretched his wounded arm, wincing at the tight stiffness of it, and sighed. In his current state, he’d be lucky to make it past the first round, let alone come in first place.

  Perhaps there will be another way, Co said.

  Yeah, like maybe Claudius will choke on a turkey leg and save us the trouble. Still, I think I’ll sharpen my blades just in case.

  Sometimes you can be truly vexing, the Virtue said, annoyed.

  Aaron smiled, I’ll consider that a compliment, firefly.

  Co didn’t respond. Pouting doesn’t suit you, he thought, satisfied, but there was no answer. He headed further into the city, not sparing a second glance for the expensively ornamented inns they passed. “Why aren’t we stopping?” Adina asked after they passed The Gilded Rose, the largest and finest yet.

  “I’m looking for The Downs,” Aaron answered, never taking his weary gaze from the street.

  “Uh, sir …” Gryle’s voice was nervous as if he was sure that the sellsword had finally lost his mind, “we’re in the wrong city for that. The Downs were in Avarest, remember?”

  “You’re wrong, chamberlain,” Aaron said, scanning the street in front of them, “every city has its Downs. They go by different names, but the place is the same; a place where people go to disappear, where a man can be anyone he wants to be, do anything he wants to do, as long as he has the coin for it.”

  After a while, they came to a place where, the lanterns that had hung on the outside of almost every building became less frequent, and the shadows clung to the corners and entrances of the side alleys like living things, swaying in their melancholy, and he nodded, satisfied. He’d found the Downs. He wasn’t surprised by the lack of lanterns, after all, what little light there was only served to illuminate ramshackle, decrepit buildings that appeared as if they were about to fall over. Not that it mattered much; none of the people Claudius wanted to impress—namely Belgarin himself—would demean themselves by venturing into the slums. At least, not in the daylight.

  Aaron nodded to a ramshackle building, “This’ll do.” The sign, which hung crooked from the building’s front, named it The Lost Coin. Aaron found himself smiling, feeling in his element for the first time since leaving Avarest. “The stolen coin more like,” he muttered. He eased himself off the cart and hitched it to a post outside of the building then he and the others walked inside.

  As they entered the inn, the steady rumble of conversation came to a halt and hard-faced men and women studied the three companions as they made their way through the crowded room. It wasn’t until they were at the bar that the tense silence was broken as the inn’s patrons apparently decided that the three of them, dressed as they were in their travel-worn, tattered clothes, weren’t worth their attention. “What’ll it be?” The heavy-set man behind the bar asked, his bored, unconcerned manner belied by the way his shifty gaze played over the three travelers. No doubt deciding if we look like heavy sleepers, Aaron thought, the kind of sleepers who keep their coin purses out of reach. Damn, it’s good to be home.

  “We’ll n
eed rooms for the night,” He told the bartender, “and there’s a cart out front that needs to see its way back to Krase, if you’ve a man for the job.”

  The man scowled, “Krase, eh? I don’t think you’ll have a lot of luck finding a man that’s willing to travel to that little backwater, and we’re all full up on rooms.”

  Aaron shrugged, idly grabbed several gold coins out of his pouch, and shifted them in his grip so that their shining surfaces reflected in the lantern light. “Oh? Too bad.” He was beginning to tuck the coins back into the pouch when the bartender held up a hand, his eyes locked on the gold.

  “Just hold on there, stranger. If you could find it in you to part with a few of those coins, I just might be able to find someone willin’ to take your cart back for ya.”

  “And the rooms?”

  The bartender hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking from Aaron’s face to the coins, “I can manage you one, but no more than that. I wasn’t lying to ya, the inn’s full up, what with every money hungry bastard in all of Telrear coming to compete in the contest. I’ll have to kick someone out as it is.”

  Aaron shrugged, tossing a few coins onto the bar, “One will have to do then, but make sure that cart makes it back.”

  The man nodded distractedly as he eagerly scooped up the coins in his dirty, hairy hands. Only once the coins had disappeared into the pocket of his apron did he look past the travelers into the main room, “Oy, Ella!”

  A middle-aged, chubby barmaid turned at the innkeeper’s voice. Her lusterless blonde hair was in disarray, and she had deep, dark circles under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept for days, “Yeah?” She said, shuffling to the bar.