by K. F. Breene
“We have missed so much,” Pahona said. “We had heard of the Wanderer, but had no idea what it meant.”
“Can I go?” Leilius asked quietly, glancing behind him as Boas entered the common room. The men at the gaming table nearest him all looked up, tracking Boas’ progress.
“Join the Honor Guard, Leilius.” Shanti waited for him to nod before leaning back in her seat. “What of the Bastard, did you get him squared away?”
Pahona and Rohnan both started laughing. A dark look came over Sanders’ face. He popped the last piece of meat into his mouth before pulling up his shirt sleeve. An angry red bite marred his skin. “He dodged my punch! Like a human!”
“Yes, he’s quick. Not as easy to hit.” Shanti smiled with pride. “He’s a fighter.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“A good fighter, yes.” Shanti laughed. “You finally got him in there?”
“With help, yeah.” Sanders took a gulp of his ale, lost his eye to the resulting grimace, and leaned back with a hand on his stomach. “In fairness, I think he was tired. I’ve seen him put up a bigger fight.”
“He’s planning something awful, I can tell.” Shanti watched Cayan walk in without Burson. Half the gaming tables looked up. Silence spread through the room and more eyes came away from their cards. It was almost as though they expected Cayan to run at their tables and upend them before starting a huge brawl.
“I got the same thing when I walked in.” Sanders wiped his forehead. “I ate too much. I pity the person sharing my room.”
Pahona scooted away a little with a sour look on her face. She glanced down at his seat—or, more likely, his butt.
Cayan sauntered past the quiet tables, grabbed a chair at random, and pulled it up to sit beside Shanti. “Burson is on the floor in our room.” He nodded to the others at the table. “A few people were kicked out of their rooms to accommodate us, I hear.”
“Boas picked the mangiest inn he could find.” Sanders sucked at his teeth.
“Less questions this way.” Shanti sighed in delight as the barman emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates. A surly-faced woman followed him out with two more, no doubt for Leilius and Boas.
As the barman passed the gamers, someone grabbed the back of his shirt. “I need—”
The barman kept walking, not even slowing. The man in the chair hadn’t let go in time, and his arm wrenched. He fell sideways before grabbing his shoulder. He sent a baleful look at the woman passing behind. She glared down at him. There’d be no help from her.
“Here you go. I put you in the best room.” The barman lowered a heaping plate in front of Shanti. “Please, you tell me if you need anything. But be careful in the city. There are still enemies out there.”
“I will, thank you.”
“The water is being heated for the baths now. Nice and fresh. You just let me know when you’re ready. And if any of these men give you problems”—the barman vaguely gestured toward the gaming tables—“you let me know.”
“Thank you. I’ll be fine.”
“Yes. Of course.” The barman glanced down at Cayan. “Of course.”
With a nod, he was off, stepping around the surly barmaid, who headed for Leilius and Boas.
The night passed quickly. After the decent, hot meal and hotter, glorious bath, Shanti and Cayan climbed into bed while Burson lay on the floor, tied up. The next day they went about ordering supplies and selling off the Graygual horses they didn’t want, trading some of the ones they’d captured for those they’d been riding. The city was flooded with people going about their day, buying goods from the stalls, or taking a stroll with their children. It was a completely different vibe to the city than during the night, with honest families rather than lonesome, gambling drunks. While eyes and emotions were wary, these people did not carry around horrible scars inflicted by Graygual misdeeds. They’d truly been lucky with the type of officer that had settled in their quaint town.
For all that, Shanti occasionally spied a man crouching on a rooftop, bow and arrow in hand. Another lounged in an alleyway, watchful. Their gazes tracked Shanti and her party consistently, picking them out of the crowd easily and watching their progress.
“Where were those watchers last night?” Shanti asked as they made their way back to the inn.
“Leilius said he’s seen a couple, though Boas hadn’t felt them. I’m anxious to ask Burson why he’d hide the watchers from the Gift.” Cayan slowed as Alexa stalled in the doorway ahead of them. Xavier stood behind her, his hand out to direct her inside.
“I don’t want you at my back,” Alexa said, her accent thick but words clear. Shanti wondered when she’d learned the language.
“Ladies first. It’s how we do things. Go.” Xavier shook his hands, trying to corral Alexa in.
“You put women in vulnerable positions so you can have the upper hand?” Alexa scowled. “What a disgraceful sort of people. I am glad I am not one of them.”
Shanti grimaced. That wasn’t a great way to make friends. Not that Shanti had any right to judge. She’d been surly at best when she had first met the Westwood Lands people.
“She reminds me of you,” Cayan said in a deep tone, clearly reading her mind. His hand curled around her waist. “I was just as besotted as Xavier seems to be.”
“Aggravated is the word you’re looking for with Xavier, I think,” Shanti said, leaning against Cayan’s hard body. “Aggravated and about to break.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s going on?” Sanders roared, pushing people to the side so he could stalk toward the inn door.
“Alexa won’t go through, sir,” Xavier said, irritation ringing clearly though his voice.
“Fine. You go.”
“I’m not going to push a woman to the side and step in front of her!” Xavier, his hands still lifted like a sign directing the way, shook his limbs again. “Please go! Ladies first.”
“I’m not a lady. I’m a fighter.”
“You have the parts of a lady, and that means you’re a lady. Go!”
“This is ridiculous.” Sanders pushed Marc out of the way and grabbed Alexa by the nape and britches. Before she could react, he hoisted her up, swung her, and threw her through the door. Without skipping a beat, he turned, punched Xavier in the stomach, doubling the younger man over, and gave him the same treatment, only Xavier rolled through the door, too big and heavy to actually throw. It was a testament to how much size and muscle Xavier had gained.
“Leilius,” Sanders barked.
“I’ll go in front of girls, sir, I don’t care.” Leilius scurried forward. Maggie, one of the Honor Guard chosen to enter the city, burst out laughing.
“Fine.” Sanders waved him through. “Get the dinners going. I’m hungry.”
“Yes, sir,” Leilius yelled over his shoulder, jogging.
Sanders swung his gaze around the group trying to enter the inn. “Let’s move!”
As one, experienced fighter and young alike jerked into motion, filing in without hesitation.
“This is why I always bring him,” Cayan said softly, stepping to the side with Shanti so everyone could have their chance to receive Sanders’ fierce gaze and thinning lips. “He makes my life easier.”
“What are you looking at?” Sanders stared down gawking passersby. Two younger men started and then quickened their pace.
“Should we check on Burson before or after supper?” Shanti asked.
“After. My patience has run out from haggling for supplies.” Cayan guided her through the door with a hand on her lower back. She had changed from when she’d first met him.
“You didn’t haggle; you told them what you wanted and stared them down until they folded.” Shanti laughed and stepped through into the common room. Card games were already being set up by sober, and somber, men, with Boas at one of the tables. Sanders would probably be joining him before long.
“It took all the patience I had.” Cayan stepped away. “Grab a table
and I’ll get some ale.”
Shanti stopped next to one of the gaming tables, looking over the setup. Though she’d been in a great many common rooms during her long journey, and watched the play, she’d never actually sat down and joined in. With her Gift it would be cheating, and even without, she could often read people better than they knew their intentions themselves. It wouldn’t be fair.
She glanced at Boas, waiting patiently. He winked.
Boas didn’t care about fair.
“Well look at you, pretty lady.” A man lumbered through the door. His long beard sparkled down the middle, wet from the spilled ale currently sloshing from his mug. “No skirt, eh? Oh. You’re one of the independent types. Inspired by that ridiculous woman parading through the land.” He laughed heartily, his heavy footfalls speaking of a slow mover.
At the bar, Cayan turned and leaned against his forearm, watching the newcomer. Though his face was closed down in a hard mask, he made no move to rush over and defend her honor. He’d changed a lot since they’d first met, too.
She prevented the grin from curving her lips.
“All these women nowadays think they can strap on a pair of pants and boots and run around with the men.” The man sniffed, his thick stomach popping out. “It’s disgusting. You have a place. It’s in the home, right, men?”
The men seating themselves nodded and muttered, “Yeah.”
At a table near the far wall, Maggie stiffened in indignation. Pahona, sitting next to her, looked at the man in confusion. Shanti, more experienced with this mindset than either, held on to her straight face.
“There’s another use for women, though, isn’t there?” the man continued, stopping a little too close to Shanti, lust sparking in his eyes. His bulk overshadowed her, and the smell of stale ale and pipe smoke took away a little of her joy. She hated that smell.
Raw rage surged through Cayan. Shanti didn’t have to look to know he was flexed from head to toe, barely keeping himself from turning this man into a sobbing mess.
“You need a man to teach you your place.” A slimy smile crept up the newcomer’s face.
The men around the table smirked and chuckled, fire alighting in their eyes. One nudged another. Boas, at the next table, grinned and lowered his cards, watching with the same joy Shanti felt.
“Show you how good it feels to submit.” The man reached low, going right for Shanti’s crotch.
She punched him in the gut at half power, slapped his hand away, grabbed his ale, and slapped it onto the table next to her. “I’m not interested. That’s your only warning.”
Preventing the smile of anticipation was becoming a challenge. She knew he was too stupid to heed the warning, and too dense to gauge the fighter in front of him. Her rebuff would fuel his rage.
What a blast.
Disgust crossed his expression before lust and anger fused. The need for control and dominance took over, both carrying sexual overtones. He’d explode with aggression soon. Shanti only hoped some of the men at the table came to his aid, and that none of her group bothered to get up.
“Oh, you’re begging for a lesson, aren’t you?” He snatched at her crotch again, his hand jerky, ruled by his testosterone. His other hand grabbed for her upper arm, probably so he could drag her into a corner.
“Just like you’ll beg for forgiveness, yes.” She grabbed his reaching wrist with one hand and jammed her other forearm down onto his with all her weight. Something popped. He grunted, his teeth grinding. Before he could yell, she peppered his body with hard punches, hitting the soft areas that would render him immobile. She stepped back and kicked up with all her power, crunching her foot into the apex between his legs.
His breath wheezed out, but before he could bend, she grabbed his forearm, spun, hooked her shoulder under his, and used her momentum to fling his upper body over her back. He crashed down onto the card table. The wood squealed before the legs snapped. Cards, drinks, and man all clattered to the ground.
Shanti braced herself, waiting for an assault.
The men at the card table hopped up from their seats and staggered backward with wide eyes. They looked at the groaning man on the ground, at the broken table, and then finally, slowly, their gazes landed on her. No one spoke. The whole common room had fallen silent except for Sanders’ chuckling.
“When he regains his breath, he’ll apologize for ruining your game, I’m sure.” Shanti wiped off the front of her clothes, more for show than anything else.
Boas stood, handed her his mug of ale, and slapped her on her back, also for show. She took a large gulp and tried not to grimace. It was foul stuff, definitely gone off.
The common room cheered. Guys laughed. A prostitute near the corner nodded in approval. A warning flared from Rohnan.
Shanti passed by the barman, who was standing with a straight face and crossed arms. The barmaid stood behind the bar, also watching, anger in her bearing.
Shanti handed over two gold coins. “Buy a new table and bar that man. He’s bad for business.”
“He was here to send me a message, I have no doubt. He’s one of the cheaper mercenaries in this town.” The barman shrugged.
What Shanti had heard the night before came back to her. “It’s because of me. They don’t want you housing me. We can easily—”
The barman waved the thought away. “I am threatened constantly. My wife, Nossie, does not need to wear pants to get the job done. A bottle broken over someone’s head works equally well as throwing them on a table.” He took one of the gold coins. “For the table, since it wasn’t self-defense.”
Shanti laughed and gave a slight bow.
“I am Budo,” he said. “Anytime you need a room, I will accommodate you. When you have money, pay. When you don’t, that’s okay too. That is how we help each other in the Network.”
She bowed again. “Right now, a warm meal would be enough.”
“It’s coming. We’ve tapped a new barrel of ale for you.” He walked her to the table where Rohnan waited uneasily.
“You didn’t need to.” She looked down at her brother’s grim face.
“Yes, we did. Your man—the big one at the bar—insisted. Not even Nossie wanted to say no to him. He has a way about him.” Budo looked back where Cayan had just procured two mugs. “He is paying handsomely for them. He is exactly the man I would expect to capture the Wanderer. You could not have found one more terrifying.”
Shanti was struck mute for a moment. That wasn’t the word she would’ve used for Cayan. Although, if they’d been talking to Cayan when Shanti was dealing with the bearded idiot, it made sense.
“The man there, in the corner,” Rohnan said, his voice pitched low for her and Budo’s ears alone. He nodded toward a lanky fellow half sitting in shadow, watching the proceedings of the room. “He is here for a stealthy kind of violence. The target is most likely you.” Rohnan’s light eyes hit Budo.
Again Budo waved it away. “That man is one of the more expensive mercenaries. Who sits by himself, in a corner, in shadow, and does not expect sober people to notice him?” Budo huffed out a laugh, though his face didn’t show his mirth. “Simpletons. Maybe we’ll just kill him. I am getting sick of their kind.”
Muttering to himself, he wandered back to the bar.
With a sigh, the kind that came after a long day where much was accomplished, Shanti settled into her seat. They still needed to hash out what Leilius had overheard, which was little more than the direction Xandre’s armies were headed. The people of the land were trying to track him as much as Shanti and Cayan were, keen to know where the next act of devastation would appear.
Leilius suspected those men from last night were more interested in the spoils of war than protecting the land from it. They’d met in this city looking for easy pickings and finding things mostly in order. It seemed they attributed that to the Wanderer’s appearance, and not the type of Graygual that had occupied it.
“Simpletons” was right.
“S’am!�
�� Marc rushed in through the common room door with dirt on his face and eyes wide. Rohnan jumped up, reading the intense distress. “Your horse broke free. He kicked the stable hand and ran out. He’s loose in the city.”
9
“Does nothing ever go right for me?” Shanti lugged herself out of her seat just as Cayan reached them. “My horse has escaped. I have to go bring him back.”
Cayan hesitated as Rohnan stood. Shanti laid a hand on Cayan’s shoulder. “I’ll take Rohnan. You eat and then talk to Burson. He is probably ready to talk now, after being tied up all day.”
Still he hesitated. She rolled her eyes. “The city is clear. Eat.” A good pat to his arm, and she was walking out of the common room to find her blasted horse. “I knew he was planning something.”
Marc rushed out after her with Leilius and Xavier in tow.
“What are you guys doing?” Shanti asked, glancing back at the others. Alexa and Maggie both jogged to catch up.
“We thought we could do a little training, since Sanders won’t let us play cards or drink ale.” Xavier walked just a little behind Alexa, which annoyed her no end, though she was clearly trying not to show it.
“Why can’t you drink ale?” Rohnan asked.
Leilius huffed. “He said ale makes people sleep too soundly, and the adults should get the privilege of drunkenness.”
Shanti nodded. She wasn’t going to argue with that.
“I’m going to get my horse. It took off with yours.” Marc looked down a side street, and then jumped when someone wandered out, pulling up his pants. “That explains the stale urine smell I’ve run into all day.”
“What is your take on Burson?” Shanti asked Rohnan. They’d checked the room at various times throughout the day, trying to get him to say why he needed to leave, or even what he’d been doing. Each time, he’d smiled at the ceiling, or frowned at the ground, but said nothing. Rohnan had sat in, but, of course, couldn’t get anything without the use of his Gift.
