Sighing, Flare pulled on his clothes and went in search of something to eat.
Flare left the small inn a little over an hour later. He could hear Heather and Mikela talking in their room, and Enton had fallen asleep, or perhaps it was more accurate to say he had passed out. Either way, Flare quickly got tired of watching the other man snore and left the room quietly. He considered going to the common room. He knew the food and ale were good, but he had eaten one or two meals a day there since they arrived in Elem almost a week ago, and he wanted something different.
At the bottom of the stairs, Flare paused in the small foyer and looked into the common room. Two large groups of merchants were crowded in, one group on either side of the room. A young, skinny girl was singing a horribly off-key song, and the merchants appeared to be trying to drown her out with their talking. The noise was enough to give anyone a headache, and Flare was pleased that Belgil was nowhere in sight. He wanted to talk to the dwarf, but he didn’t fancy trying to shout over all the noise.
He turned right and crossed through the empty foyer, stopping only long enough to grab his oiled overcoat. He didn’t put it on but instead he carried it out onto the inn’s front porch. The porch ran the entire length of the front of the house and was raised up higher than the stone road that lay across the front of the inn. Along either side of the inn were two small alleyways that allowed access to the inn’s stable. There also was an entrance to the stable from the next road over.
The rain had slacked off, and there was only a steady drizzle now; nevertheless, the stone gutters along the sides of the road were nearly overflowing with the fast-moving water. Elem was used to the rain and spent a great deal of time and money preparing their roads and gutters to handle the enormous amount of runoff. Flare had been rightly impressed and, so far, it was the only thing he had found noteworthy about Elem.
He stepped off the porch and pulled his overcoat on at the same time. There were others walking in the street, but not many. The rain had been heavier even than what the inhabitants of Elem were used to, and it had cleared most of the traffic out of the road.
He glanced first left and then right. He wasn’t sure where Belgil had gone, but he doubted the dwarf had gone right; that way led to the harbor and to the more disreputable establishments. Guessing Belgil would have gone to the left, Flare started walking that way as well.
He walked for a while, just enjoying being alone. It wasn’t so miserably hot either and that made the walk nice. Normally the rain made everything steamy, but the sky was still a dark blue, and there was a small breeze blowing that felt rather cool.
The street was crowded with shops and businesses, and there was a good crowd moving from building to building. Not a whole lot they can do on a day like this, he thought. Most of the shoppers stayed close to the building. There was a raised walkway that ran along the front of the buildings and an overhang that reached out from the rooftops, it was enough to keep most of the drizzle off of their heads.
This section of town was nicer than the harbor area, but still a good ways from the more affluent part of town. The inns catered more to the merchants and business owners, and bringing a whore back would have been frowned upon; although, as with most things, gold would have smoothed it over.
The first inn that Flare came upon was on the right hand side of the street. It was a nice building, three stories with a large, fenced stable yard to the side. Most inns had a small common room where their guests could get dinner or a drink. During the summer festival, most of the inns even hired musicians to help entertain the crowds. Flare could hear someone playing a stringed instrument inside the inn. He could also hear a woman’s voice singing a slow song. She seemed to be more on-key than the woman who had been singing at their inn.
Flare climbed the steps to the porch. It was short, maybe fifteen yards long. It was empty except for one man who sat next to the door. He sat on a small stool that looked like it might break at any moment and it would have been understandable; the man was huge. Some of the man’s bulk was muscle but more of it was fat. Still, he looked like he could hold his own in a fight. He had bushy brown hair and a bulbous nose. Surprisingly, his clothes looked clean and reasonably new. The man studied Flare as Flare studied him, but neither said a word.
Flare opened the door and stepped into the entryway. The common room was off to his left and he stuck his head in for a look. A woman stood on the left hand side of the room against the wall, and she sang fairly well. A man sat on a stool just to her right and he was playing a zither. Even though it was early in the day, the room was already nearly full. Most of the occupants were listening to the woman’s song and the conversation was minimal.
It only took a moment to realize that Belgil wasn’t here either and Flare headed back out the door.
Flare found the dwarf in the sixth or maybe seventh drinking establishment he checked. This one wasn’t one of the inn common rooms at all, but instead was a small pub just off one of the small side streets.
As Flare stepped through the door, quite a few heads turned his way and scowled in his direction. He got the feeling that this pub was more for locals than travelers. There wasn’t anyone singing or any other forms of entertainment. He planned to take a quick look and then head back out the door, but he jerked to a stop when he recognized Belgil sitting at a small table in the far corner.
Grinning, Flare started across the room. Several of the patron’s scowls deepened and every eye followed him across the room. Flare just ignored them.
He stopped beside Belgil’s table and the dwarf looked up.
Flare didn’t know how long the dwarf had been drinking, but his eyes were still focused and alert. The dwarf nodded in way of hello and motioned for Flare to take the seat opposite him. A rather large cup sat in front of Belgil, and Flare could smell the sweet smell of the mead.
Flare sat down on the opposing chair and glanced briefly around the room. Most of the patrons had gone back to their drinks, and only a few still watched him.
“Any luck?” Belgil asked.
“Some,” Flare said quietly. He leaned closer to make sure no one overheard their conversation. “Heather said there are a hundred or so shields in the temple. It has to be one of them.” He didn’t think he needed to specify what it he was referring to.
“So what’s the plan?”
“I’m going back to the abbey tomorrow,” Flare said quietly. “I’m going to work my way into the temple and have a look at those shields.”
“And me?” Belgil asked. His eyes studied Flare intently. “How am I going to get into that temple?”
There was an intensity in the dwarf’s words that gave Flare pause. He knew that finding Ocklamoor was important to the dwarves, and that was putting it mildly. It was more like a religious fervor. He began to suspect that Belgil might be a problem if they found the shield. Surely the dwarf knew the shield would have to remain in his possession for a while.
Flare sighed deeply. “After I return from the temple tomorrow, we will return,” he paused and leaned still closer, “via wizardry.”
After a moment Belgil caught on and he actually smiled, which was somewhat unusual for the dwarf. “Excellent. So we may have the shield tomorrow night?”
“If all goes according to plan,” Flare said and he too smiled.
Belgil nodded and they lapsed back into silence, which dragged on for several moments.
After a while Flare asked. “Is everything alright?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been distant, even more so than normal,” Flare said.
Belgil grunted and raised his cup back to his lips. Several moments later he lowered his cup and wiped his lips with the back of his forearm. “I hate all this sneaking around,” he finally said. “We dwarves normally prefer the more straight-up sort of business.” He sighed. “I don’t see how you humans do it.”
Flare chose to ignore the reference to him as a human; he still thought of it as a bit of
an insult, but he also knew that wasn’t how the dwarf had meant it. “Well, if all goes as we hope, this will all be over tomorrow night.”
Belgil grunted again. “Things rarely go as we hope,” he said quietly.
Flare nodded and leaned in even closer. “You do understand that I will have to keep the shield for a while.”
Belgil raised his head and stared at Flare. “It belongs to my people.”
“Perhaps, but it’s also part of the Kelcer prophecy,” Flare said, his eyes narrowed and his tone became a bit more forceful.
“It all comes back to Kelcer,” Belgil said into the quiet.
“Yes, it does,” Flare agreed, “and that’s why I have to have the shield.”
There was a silence between them for a while, and then Belgil asked, “What if your choice was between the shield or the dwarves?”
“Are you saying the dwarves will not join the fight unless I give them the shield?” Flare demanded. Anger was trying to rise up within him. He didn’t like being threatened.
Belgil shrugged and looked away. “I do not speak for the dwarves in this matter, but the shield belongs to us. Why do we care if it rots in a human abbey or if it is carried by you? It’s all the same to us.”
Flare’s anger disappeared and it was replaced by something new — suspicion. For the first time since they began their travels to Elem, he began to doubt whether or not he could trust Belgil. He knew the dwarf didn’t make a habit out of lying, and he had assumed the dwarf would help him get Ocklamoor. But now he was beginning to doubt the dwarf. He could see Belgil lying about which shield was the correct one and then trying to sneak away with the correct one.
Belgil appeared to guess Flare’s thoughts, or perhaps his suspicions played out across his face. The dwarf smiled and leaned across the table to nudge Flare on the arm. “What? Are you thinking I might lie to you? Not tell you which one is correct?” He sat back in his chair and shook his head. “Wouldn’t do that. Believe it or not, I actually like you, and besides, my king ordered me to help you. I will do as he commands, but I make no promises that King Vognar will aid you in your fight to restore the order.”
Flare left the small pub moments later. His talk with Belgil had not gone as well as he had hoped and he was angry with the dwarf. He knew he shouldn’t be; he never wanted to be angry with someone for telling him the truth, but that was exactly what was happening.
He had thought things were going well. He had believed that the dwarves would be on his side, and while they still might, he no longer felt it was a sure thing.
Flare stepped through the pub’s door and stopped on the covered sidewalk. He glanced up at the sky; the rain was starting to fall hard again. He pulled up the hood of his oiled cloak up and began walking up the side street toward the main thoroughfare.
His mood had gone from jubilant to worried, and all it had taken was for him to talk to Belgil. He shook his head at the foolishness of it all.
Flare looked down at the stones that made up the alleyway. Even though the streets were crafted to handle large downfalls of water, here and there the street still gathered puddles. As he neared the main street, he hopped over a particularly large puddle, and then looked up and froze. A man was walking from left to right up the main street. Flare had seen him before at Fort Mul-Dune.
Flare tilted his head down a bit more but, other than that, he kept moving slowly in his original direction. He knew that any sudden movements might draw the eye.
He studied the man from under the edge of his hood. The man was dark, with long black hair and a mustache that hung low. He moved through the streets with a grace that betrayed his deadliness. Flare had seen the man’s skill with the sword firsthand at Mul-Dune, and he didn’t want another demonstration in the middle of a crowded street.
Flare turned right onto the main street and walked along the right side of the road. The man he was following was on the left walkway and it allowed Flare to watch him easily. His quarry was moving a bit faster than Flare, so he picked up the pace a bit.
He could think of only one reason that one of Zalustus’s lieutenants was in Elem; they were searching for the shield. He smiled at the thought that he at least had something that they didn’t have — a dwarf who should be able to point out which shield was Ocklamoor. The smile slipped as he remembered his earlier suspicions that Belgil might lie to him. The suspicion was still there despite the dwarf’s claims to the contrary. The smile slipped a bit farther as he realized he didn’t know if any dwarves were on Zalustus’s side or not. For all he knew, Zalustus might have more dwarves on his side than Flare had.
After several blocks Flare grew suspicious. The swordsman wasn’t being overly careful to check for followers. It was possible that Flare was being led into a trap, but he couldn’t see how; even most of his friends wouldn’t recognize him. So why was the fighter being so careless?
Another idea occurred to him and a cold chill ran down his back. Perhaps, the fighter wasn’t watching his back, because someone else was.
Nonchalantly, Flare slowed his pace and stopped to look into the window of a clothing shop. He stood there for several moments, appearing to observe the items in the window. In reality, he was carefully watching the reflections of the people on the street.
Flare immediately spotted two men that he felt could be working with the fighter. The first was an enormous man in a thick, furry overcoat. He was stumbling along in the general direction as the fighter. He appeared to be drunk, but Flare didn’t trust it; it was possible the man was an excellent actor. Flare considered him for several moments but dismissed him when he stepped over to the edge of the walkway and vomited loudly into the street.
The second man was shorter and thinner than the first, and he had the unmistakable walk of a sailor. Though short, he was muscular and wiry. His gray hair was cut short. Flare dismissed the second man when he turned down a different street than the fighter.
Flare was just about to give up searching the crowds when he noticed a youth jogging down the walkway. The young man jogged for a bit, and then stopped next to several barrels outside an inn door. It was difficult to judge based solely on a reflection, but he was young — Flare would guess his age around thirteen or fourteen — and there was something about him. He was also short and thin, but his hair was dark. The kid knelt down next to the wall and began to play a game with stones. He seemed to be trying to bounce them near the wall. Although a bit strange, Flare was just about to renew his following of the fighter when he noticed that the kid scanned the crowds more than he played his game. This went on for several moments, and then the kid scooped up his stones and turned and jogged in the same direction the fighter had gone.
Flare was torn. He knew who the fighter was and did not want to lose him. However, he suspected the kid was working with the fighter, and he didn’t want his quarry to be alerted to the fact that he was being followed. If he overtly followed the fighter, he might alert Zalustus’s lieutenant to his presence. It was possible that he could follow the kid and still find out where the fighter was going, but it was also possible that the youth was just a thief.
Still undecided, Flare turned away from the clothing shop and began up the street. It was then that he noticed that the fighter was nowhere to be seen. “Guess that settles it,” he said under his breath. “I’ll follow the kid.”
Flare followed the boy for half an hour, being careful not to be spotted by the youth. Several times Flare changed his appearance with sorcery. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but then again he didn’t think he could be too careful when it came to Zalustus.
They traveled westerly for a while, and then turned and moved several blocks north.
Flare peered around the corner as the youth knelt down and began playing his stones game again. Sighing, Flare raised his foot to step out into the street but he hesitated. There were a good number of people in the street, and nothing seemed amiss, but still he hesitated. He wasn’t sure why but he pulled back farther into
the shadows and began scanning the street ahead. After a moment, he found what he was looking for. The fighter that he had recognized from Mul-Dune was on the opposite side of the street next to some crates. If Flare had emerged onto the street and followed the youth, there would have been a good chance that the fighter would have spotted him.
Flare pulled farther back into the shadows and slipped back the way he had come. He did not want to emerge onto that street the same way that the fighter and kid had, so he casually hurried back down the street and circled around the block. The block consisted of several shops and an inn, and Flare was careful not to draw attention to himself by hurrying too much. Instead, he walked slowly and carefully scanned the crowds. No one else seemed out of place, and he soon completed his trip around the block. He looked out over the street where the fighter had been hiding. Flare sighed in relief at the sight of the fighter still standing next to the crates, but now he wasn’t alone. The kid was hunkered down next to the crates in the fighter’s shadow. After several moments, the fighter looked up and down the street, and then moved over and sat down on the walkway with his back against the shop wall. The overhang kept most of the rain off him, and the crates hid him and the kid fairly well.
“Now what are you doing?” Flare said aloud. It looked like the fighter was watching the building on the opposite side of the street. Being careful to not be spotted, Flare leaned out and looked at the building. It was an inn called The Pirate’s Folly.
Flare stayed in the shadows for over an hour. There was a pile of empty barrels near the mouth of the alley, so he got behind them and peered through the small gap between the tops of the barrels. He could see the fighter and the kid on the opposite side of the street, but he knew they couldn’t see him. Just to be safe, he still used sorcery to mask his hiding spot even more.
After the first hour, the kid got up and disappeared. Flare began to worry that the kid might travel around the block, and thereby might sneak up on his back. He spent a nervous ten minutes looking forwards and backwards, but the kid returned with a large mug and flopped back down next to the fighter.
Victory and Defeat: Book Five of the Restoration Series Page 12
