Travellers (Warriors, Heroes, and Demons Book 2)

by Dave Skinner

  “This is not a popular table at this time,” he told them. “Beer tends to go skunky at it.”

  “Well, luckily we do not wish beer. Wine for us, please, innkeeper,” Andoo said.

  “Wine does not fare well at this table either. It would be better to join a different one. I am waiting for the Marshtown wizard to return, so he can fix the problem.”

  “I would be happy to fix it, if the wine was free,” Andoo told the man, “or you can wait for your own wizard. The council is over. He should return shortly.”

  “Fix it by all means. Having an unusable table is cutting into my profits. I will get you two glasses of my best wine.”

  “Reach your hand out,” Andoo told Micka when the man had left. “Can you feel the magic? It is the same as in the other locations. I liked the spell you used outside, but it will work faster with this modification.” He placed his hand over hers and she saw the magic he laid down and the difference from what she had done previously.

  The innkeeper returned as they sat themselves at the table. He set the wine down and watched them take a sip. “Still good?” he asked.

  “Still good,” Andoo replied smiling up at the man. “May I ask what happened here?”

  “One of my patrons was attacked by a number of assassins. His friend killed some of them, and forced one who was at this table to tell her about the others.”

  “This is a Traveller’s inn, is it not? Why would assassins try to kill a Traveller?”

  “You will have to ask him that. I have said enough. Can I interest you in a meal?”

  “We ate a short while ago, thank you, but another glass of wine would not be turned down.”

  Micka followed Andoo’s example and sipped her wine while studying the room and its occupants. Most of the male and female customers were Travellers. Their deeply-tanned complexions matched those of the few Marshtown locals who were seated at the tables, but the Traveller’s dark pony tails, leather apparel and weapons set them apart. The locals carried the normal eating knife used by most people, as well as a short, thin-bladed knife she assumed had something to do with fishing in the marshes. The innkeeper returned with two additional goblets of wine.

  “A friend of ours told us to ask about her here when we finished our business,” Andoo told the innkeeper. “Her name is Lee. She dances.”

  “The Dancer is staying here, but she went out earlier. I expect her back. If I see her, who should I say is looking for her?”

  “Andoo Toran, the Wizard of Waysley and his apprentice, Micka. We travelled from Waysley with her.”

  “I will tell her when I see her.”

  “Can you point out the injured patron’s friend to us? The one who magiced your table.”

  “She is upstairs with her friend. He is still recovering from the attack.” With that said, the man moved away to service other patrons.

  “We should ask about the Red Witch,” Micka suggested.

  “It was all I could do to get that little bit of information from him. I doubt he will offer more without some enticement. Travellers and the places they frequent are notoriously tight-lipped. They are better listeners than talkers. We will wait for Lee. She was to ask about Bray.”

  ***

  The Rat’s Nest inn was nothing more than a small spit of land that jutted into the Marshtown harbour on the outskirts of town. It contained a campfire around which a number of crude tables were scattered, and a number of grass huts—for entertaining. Sim sat at one of the tables. He looked up as three men entered. The first was jellyfish-shaped, but as the man walked forward, it became apparent that none of his bulk moved unnecessarily. Sim recognized the fish-monger, Hender and his body guards. Hender ran the Bentmen of Marshtown.

  “What’s it this time, Sim, another murder like the incident at the Point?” Hender asked after taking a seat at Sim’s table.

  “I told them that I was there to kill him. That is all the rules say is necessary.”

  “But you didn’t mention you had to kill one of our own to complete the contract. Are you aware that Pettra’s brother has sworn vengeance on you? I should ban you to keep my town at peace, but you are such a good customer, Sim, that I am going to let it pass. Now, what are you here for?”

  “To steal a necklace.”

  Hender barked a laugh. “A necklace valuable enough to steal, here, in Marshtown? Unlikely, these marsh people think an old shell on a bit of rawhide is better than gold. Jewelry of great value simply does not exist in Marshtown.”

  “It is of value to my employer. Others may feel differently, although it is gold, and as such I am here to pay the tariff. The Master valued it at two gold, making the tax two silver.” Sim enjoyed watching people’s faces when he mentioned his employer’s title. Nobody purposely crossed a wizard and especially not this one.

  “Two silver it is then—and two gold for the trouble you caused in Point.” Hender held out his hand, palm up. Sim’s hand looked tiny when he passed over the tariffs. “And no killing of my guild members this time, Sim. The consequence of that would be unpleasant, no matter who your employer is.”

  Sim held his face still. A smile pushed at his control, but years of experience insisted a smile shown was not worth the pain, and it was obvious to Sim that Hender had to show bravado to save face. “I will follow the rules at all times. You have my word.”

  Hender looked pleased as he led his bodyguards away. Sim settled down to wait. He had a clear view of the harbour and the wharf. If the Red Witch arrived, he would know it, and he had bribed the innkeeper at the Marshmellow handsomely to warn him if the Wizard of Waysley checked out.

  “Buy a thirsty girl a drink, stranger?”

  Sim was startled. Not so much by the question—pleasure girls were common at establishments run by the Bentmen—but by the fact that this stick of a girl had approached him. One of the reasons he was a successful thief and killer was because people tended to overlook him. Sim glanced around looking for someone who had put the girl up to approaching him but, aside from the barkeep and a few sailors the tables were empty. None of those present seemed interested in him or the girl. Which was understandable, she was almost as nondescript as him.

  Slight of build to the point of skinny, dull hair, and dull eyes in an uninteresting face gave him a feeling of almost kinship. Then she smiled and his heart fluttered as her eyes lit up and drew him in. He felt a stirring that usually occurred only after a kill. He motioned her to sit, and she folded herself into a chair.

  “Ale suit you?” he asked.

  “That would be fine.”

  He tried to catch the eye of the barkeep, but finally had to stand to be seen. He was still trying to find something to say when their ales arrived. They sipped their drinks and studied each other. She broke the silence, reluctantly it seemed to him. They pecked at subjects neither was interested in talking about. Their silences stretched in length as seeds of conversation died. The time between talking was what they both liked. Without asking she dragged her chair around to his side of the table. They sat shoulder to shoulder watching people come and go, unnoticed, and unmissed. When it was too late for any other ships to enter the harbour, he took her hand and led her to his room. She accompanied him easily, almost eagerly. No one noticed them leave.

  ***

  Andoo saw Lee enter through the door of the inn and walk to the bar. She spoke to the innkeeper who pointed at him and Micka. There was a hint of worry creasing her brow as she came towards them.

  “Andoo, Micka, well met. I am glad to see you again, and relieved. I was inquiring about a wizard. I have found Bray. He is upstairs and he requires your services. Will you come?”

  Andoo nodded and the three made their way up to a room. Lee knocked and entered. Andoo recognized Bray despite the sickly pallor of his skin. A young woman was seated on the side of the bed holding Bray’s hand. The room smelt of stale air and sweat. Bray’s hair was plastered to his head, rivulets of sweat oozed from his body which shook with convulsions. The
woman looked up as they entered. “Are you the wizard?” she asked.

  “I am. Andoo Toran, the Wizard of Waysley, at your service,” he said.

  “Help him... please. He is getting worse.”

  Andoo seated himself beside Bray on the edge of the bed. “How long has this been going on, and do you have any idea what happened?”

  “He was shot in the upper chest with a crossbow bolt. I washed the wound and closed it. He was getting better, but then this fever started.”

  Andoo uncovered Bray’s chest. The new wound was almost invisible except for the spider web of dark lines that fanned out from it. Andoo ran his hand over Bray’s chest and held it above the injury. He could feel the magic that had been used to close the wound. He had to ease his way around it to see the infection.

  “Micka, get hot water and bandages. Lee aid her,” he ordered. His attention went next to the young woman. “You sealed the injury nicely. It is a fine job, but something was left in the wound that is causing the infection. I must open and clean it. Could you not feel the infection with your magic?”

  “No, and once I sealed the wound I was afraid to use magic on him again. I am new to it. I was afraid of hurting him. What are you going to do with that?”

  Andoo had pulled a rolled up sheet of soft leather from a pocket inside his cloak and untied the rawhide thong that held it closed. Placing the package on the bed he extracted a thin knife and made passes over the blade with his hands. “I will have to open the wound, but first I will enhance the blade with a little magic. You say you are new to magic, but you healed his wound well. Someone must have shown you how to do that. Are you a wizard’s apprentice?”

  “No. A friend showed me how to do it.”

  “I would like to meet this friend who knows healing. The magic you used has a different sense to it. I would like to compare spells.”

  “He left. He returned home with his sister. I will not see them again.”

  “Your friend taught you well, but the magic I sensed downstairs was unnecessarily harsh. That was you also, was it not?”

  “That just happened. It was a reaction to Bray being hurt. I have no understanding of what occurred.”

  “You did that without training? You and I must have a long conversation, but first, let us attend to Bray. Later we can discuss magic, and responsibility. You see, with your level of natural ability you have a responsibility to get training. It has to be controlled, girl. Now, watch what I do.”

  Andoo removed Bray’s shirt as Micka and Lee returned. Micka took a position on the opposite side of the bed. They eased Bray back to the straw mattress. “Bray! Bray! Listen to me,” Andoo commanded. “We know each other.” Andoo was close enough to capture Bray’s gaze. “I was with you at Waysley, when we fought Vee’s horde. Do you remember? Try to remember, Bray. I need you to remember.”

  Bray nodded and his body relaxed. Andoo continued, “Good, Bray, I am here to help. You were hurt. The injury became infected. My magic can reach the infection, but I also need to reopen your wound and remove the source of the problem. So relax, Bray, just relax.”

  Andoo reached into his shoulder bag and palmed a vial from the third compartment on the left. Holding his hands together above Bray’s chest, he was about to open the vial when Bray’s friend, the young woman, sank to her knees at his side with a hand extended.

  “Please!” Andoo said forcefully, “Do not touch him. I need him completely under my control. Your magic could interfere. You have to trust me! I will not harm him.”

  The girl sat back on her heals, stopping her hand an apple’s height above Bray’s leg. She searched Andoo’s face, and settle on his eyes. A moment later she eased her arm back to her side. “Trust is earned, but it has to start somewhere.”

  Andoo turned his attention back to Bray’s chest. Holding the vile between his hands he moved it to above the inflammation and opened it. A yellow odour formed into a thundercloud. Storm clouds rolled away, leaving a flat circle of fierce light that collapsed into a round window that sunk through the skin of Bray’s body.

  “See, this is the tissue that was healed.” Andoo said to the two girls crouched on the other side of the bed. “It shows a concern for the subject that flavoured the action of healing. That is natural magic at work.” The window sank deeper into Bray’s body as it continued to expose the wound, until it stopped its descent at a sparkling barrier around the tip of the injury. “This protective barrier was created by your healing energies because you did not understand what you saw and the options open to you. And that is why you must be trained. Your destiny has been intertwined with Bray’s for a reason. You must understand your abilities before you are asked to play your part.

  “There it is,” Andoo announced as the window flipped and came to focus on a scrap of leather imbedded in the tissue. Now for the delicate part.”

  The knife from his kit appeared in his hand and he worked it down into Bray’s chest through the opening the magic window had created. Reaching the scrap of cloth, the tip of the knife sliced around the spot. The tip became fluid. It oozed into a small ball around the infected bit. Andoo pulled the knife free, as the window dissipated in the air. Andoo sucked up the resulting mist. “Good magic, that. Very tasty, but wine would hit the spot better. Does anyone have wine for a hard working magician?” His voice had taken on a pleading tone, but no one answered. “Fine, Micka, we must supply our own refreshment.”

  Chapter 36

  The Marshtown harbour master inked his elaborately carved stamp of office and applied it to the slip license. Manda nodded and smiled as the man continued his story, friendly now that the taxes had been paid. It had taken the whole afternoon to acquire the necessary license. This was not unusual for Marshtown, Manda knew what to expect, but her ire still rose as she waited.

  “Your ship can remain at the wharf for two days. After that you can anchor in the bay for five days. Anything more than a seven-day requires a licence renewal.”

  “Anything else?” Manda asked, trying to sound pleasant but perhaps not succeeding because the harbour master stood up behind his desk with a sour look on his face. She spun around and stormed out the office door. Tyhan Door, her first mate, smiled knowingly. Manda blew her frustration out between pursed lips—a trick Ran had taught her. Best not to go there, she thought while handing Tyhan the license.

  “See to getting the Witch tied up. I am off to the grain merchant to sell our cargo. Tell Mearisdeana and Nailmoe to wait if I am not back by the time the ship is secure. We will unload tomorrow. Leave a guard. The rest of the crew can go ashore for the night, but stress they are needed tomorrow morning for unloading.”

  “Aye Captain, and what about wages?”

  “Give then three silver each. They have to wait until after the unloading tomorrow for more, and it means they will not be hungover in the morning.” Manda turned and moved up the walkway.

  The office of the grain merchant she used was located with most of the other shipping-related businesses in the buildings that formed Dock Square, the closest buildings to the dock aside from the harbour master’s office. They were the structures first encountered by sailors on leave with money in their pockets, so naturally there were a number of taverns located on the Square also.

  Marshtown was a city on stilts. Structures were built above islands and outcrops of land on cedar and hemlock posts designed to keep their lower floors dry. It worked most of the time. Boardwalks and bridges gave pedestrians a way to travel from building to building, although the preferred transport within the city were the small boats and gondolas that plied the watery channels that flowed everywhere through the town. Dock Square, on the other hand, was an extension of the wharf that ran from the docks to the traditional waterways of Marshtown—a concession created to give visitors a sense of substance and stability that the waterways and boardwalks did not seem to offer outsiders. It was a place where true Marshtowners were almost never seen. They preferred the quiet waterways over the day and night
tussle of activity found in the Square.

  Manda and her father usually carried cargo under a contract, but between contracts they speculated as all successful merchants did. Grain was a profitable cargo to bring into Marshtown, as long as other captains hadn’t glutted the market. The grain merchant was standing outside his office as she crossed the square—always a good sign.

  “Manda of Gore, you are most welcome, Captain. Tell me you have grain.”

  “I surely do, Gerrig.”

  “Wonderful, grain is scare right now. Most went to the Wizard’s Council at Delta. We will both make a nice profit.” They entered the office to work out the details. Manda was back at the wharf by the time the Red Witch was tied up, but it was early evening before she led Mearisdeana and Nailmoe towards town to find the Wizard of Waysley. Dock Square had transformed in the time she had been aboard ship. The shipping businesses had closed their doors, and the inns and taverns were running strong before the wind. A loud argument ahead saw them cross the square to the opposite side. As Manda made her way past the open doors of an inn, a knot of five men stumbled out. The collision put Manda on the ground with three men on top of her for a moment before Nailmoe grabbed two of them by their greasy hair and dragged them up. The third man rolled away, scampered up and was gone. One of the two Nailmoe held, an evil squint of a man, must have taken offense at being grabbed. He lashed out and drove a knife at the cloaked figure of Nailmoe while the other man swung a fist at Nailmoe’s head. The blow only succeeded in pushing the hood of his cloak back revealing his scale covered face. Both men stopped struggling and stared. Nailmoe pushed them away and helped Manda to her feet.

  “Thank you, Nailmoe,” Manda said as she checked herself. “I appear to be undamaged.”

  “As do I,” Nailmoe said as he examined the knife slash in his cloak. “My cloak needs mending though, but it would be worse if my dayskin had not turned the blade.”

  They proceeded on through the city. Manda was unfamiliar with the Marshmellow Inn, but had little trouble finding it. Barb had reported that they should inquire there for Andoo Toran. The innkeeper told them that he was staying there, but was spending most of his time at a Traveller’s inn called Wet Foot Wanda’s. They took a gondola to Wanda’s.