Tales Of Grimea

by Andrew Mowere

  “But would your uncle be willing to go after his own brother?” asked Percy.

  “He would. The father of Mikhlab is terrifying, and nobody knows that better than uncle Salim. The only reason he lets the man do as he wants is because Mikhlab has promised to be on the side of the people. This is not the case anymore. He would go against them, and his sons would help in any way they can.”

  At the very next opportune moment, Hwosh and Adra went over to uncle Salim’s house. Everywhere, people were going about their usual business: buying, selling, and chatting with neighbours. There was even a new house being built right next to an old disused water fountain. From the western side of town Hwosh could hear bustle, where the Bazar would be in full throttle about this time. It was difficult for the warrior, now dressed for comfort and in sandals, to imagine that an assassination attempt, designed to spark a war would be taking place in a few weeks. If Tamas Wedd were to be killed, Indellekt would likely immediately retaliate against Regalia and Lor, forcing a union against the nation of knowledge and magic. At the very least, trade would stagnate, cutting the life’s blood from such a trade reliant town like as well as all of Ghata. If that happened, poverty and despair would befall a folk so determined to better their own lot. Worse still, Indellektians would be forced to leave the city or be swept like ants before the flood of anger against the country. Even those like Murata wouldn’t be able to remain neutral. Naturally, that applied to Percy, one of those most determined to stop this entire mess from happening. He would be forced to go away.

  “Adra?” said Hwosh to his companion, who was also dressed in brown comfortable clothes. It was unlike her to forego extravagance and flair for the sake of practicality.

  “Yeah?”

  “We need to stop this assassination, no matter what. Uncle Salim will help.”

  Unfortunately, the two were unable to enlist the aid of the old man. They were told by a neighbour that he’d left a few days earlier for the east, in order to visit a relative of his. “Had to see that bald head of his shine all the way he walked into the sunrise. Said something about a jade rock, he did.”

  “He’s not bald,” the warrior defended his uncle dutifully as he’d been taught to, reciting an age old adage. “He cuts his hair.”

  Hwosh thought he knew which relative she’d meant, and therefore understood that the old man was now beyond their reach for a few months at the very least. Upon looking for Mukhlis, the two were informed by a rather surly woman at the ambassador’s office that he had been withdrawn to Indellekt for urgent business.

  At that point, Hwosh was beside himself with worry. At least, he was sure that uncle Salim hadn’t been kidnapped or harmed, unless the man had been forced to make up a story for the neighbours. The bigger problem was that a man as influential as Mukhlis Matr had been pressured into leaving town early. There was no doubt in Hwosh’s mind that the wizard would arrive in the capital, only to be informed that there had been some sort of misunderstanding. After all, the impending crisis was in Lor.

  “Don’t worry,” said Percy when they came back and told him the entire story. “I’ll be feeling better in a few days. I thought old man Salim was worried only about my personal safety, but now it seems that there’s more at stake. We only have a few weeks to figure out when the attempt on Wedd’s life is going to be, but I’m not leaving things as they are. There’s no running away. We will find him, warn him, and stop Mikhlab’s plan.”

  Two weeks later, there was still little to show for their efforts. They were able to piece together only the location and timing of the attack: Tamas Wedd was to be poisoned after getting drunk, as he was wont to, at a gathering for high society just two days before the signing of a new trade agreement. All attempts to warn the man failed due to the large number of guards he had brought for protection. They were part of some order or the other, and their honour caused them to refuse any sort of aid with impunity. One even tried to strike Percy at some point.

  Just as the blow came, Hwosh stepped in to take it on his shoulder instead. Luckily, only three of the guards were present in that particular alley next to the tavern. Hwosh was saved by the element of surprise, for his admittedly large but lean frame was nothing compared to the behemoths. Being underestimated, the warrior took the chance. The first’s blow was dodged, and he retorted with an upwards knife hand into the man’s neck, followed by and instant roll towards the second, who foolishly lunged into Hwosh’s straight kick as he came up from the ground, throwing the man backwards and unto his face, hard. The third, a blonde man who actually looked a little like Percy, was a magician and began to wave his hands whilst reciting a spell. He was smacked on the eagle like nose, then caught in a choke hold while still disoriented. The whole thing was over in a few blinks, and then Hwosh lead Percy away in a hurry.

  “I knew you were good,” the old man had spluttered, “But I didn’t know you were that good!”

  From that day on, they were unable to get anywhere close to the tavern, and even Murata became out of reach.

  It is said that luck seems to wait for the last possible moment, and so it was for Hwosh and his companions. After countless futile attempts to warn Wedd or anybody capable of helping, the three found themselves loitering around the western part of town on the day of his assassination. Adra sat on the dusty floor, Percy on a low wall, and Hwosh stood to the side. Theirs was a trinity of disappointment.

  That’s it, thought he. Death, war and destruction, just because I couldn’t save the life of one man. Percy will have to run away for his life, and I’ll never see either of them again. Adra will go with. He was going to be left alone again. One more loss for justice, two fewer treasures for him. He mentioned it to Percy in a low voice, and the man said, “It’s not that bad.”

  “What do you mean?” Asked Hwosh. He couldn’t imagine anything worse than being separated from these two in such a way.

  “If you live long enough, you realize a few things about life. One of those is the nature of friendships. They’re all about heart, not location or company. When people separate, their hearts are bound by strings of care, and it’s those that mark a true friendship. The stronger the string, the better the friendship.” Suddenly, the man coughed a bit, then continued after a few seconds of silence. Adra sniffled. “It will hurt not to play cards at Murata’s, but we’ll always be friends, and if we do meet someday, we’ll pick things up like nothing’s ever changed. No matter what, I and Adra are on your side, standing by you in spirit, thought and intent. Even if you need to go to a job interview and I’m not there, my support will be, like the leftover warmth after a hug. And I know it goes both ways.”

  Hwosh didn’t know what to say. Part of him was extremely touched, and another felt lonely already. A nod was enough, he thought. If nothing else, he was thankful for his good memory, as it would allow him to keep these two close.

  “Maybe he deserves to die. Wedd, I mean,” said Adra sullenly.

  “You don’t mean that, sweetheart,” chided Percy.

  “Have you seen how he treats the masses? It’s horrible, the way he gets carried on that chair of his, throws coins in the filthiest places to watch how beggars scramble for them, laughing like the pig he is. I want to punch that beady eyed face of his.”

  “Aye, he is shifty,” agreed Percy. “It’s sad, but those kinds of psions exist too. To them, the difference between them and normal people is the same as between people and animals.”

  Hwosh interjected, “It’s sick.”

  Just then, a short robed figure bumped into Adra and moved past her. The tree were so absorbed in their own misery that none noticed anything for a few seconds, until Adra suddenly exclaimed, “My money! Thief!” By then the figure had turned left into an alleyway.

  Almost immediately, Hwosh spun about and began to sprint after the brown robed thief. He managed to glimpse the thief just barely, turning away from the Bazar. Curious, he thought to himself. Hwosh and his quarry weaved left and right, each pushing h
ard but neither being able to gain an edge. The brown caped culprit overturned a few pigeon cages in an effort to put off the warrior, but Hwosh was able to vault over them with ease. Slowly, the thief visibly began to tire and Hwosh was able to slightly reduce the gap. Just then, the shape ahead saw its mistake and turned right twice, going back towards the Bazar in order to lose Hwosh in the crowd. Slowly the bustle began to mask all sinister movements, and the warrior was unable to find the thief. Panting, he stopped to catch his breath amidst the shouts, scents and shapes of the bazar. Shadows danced as the bright canopies of every colour directly above were rustled by a welcome breeze. Another failure, he thought to himself. At that point, it didn’t really matter that Adra had warned him too late. What good is it if I can’t even catch a pickpocket? He couldn’t do anything on his own. One job other than the ones from uncle Salim, and it was just getting some feathers. He had no doubt that if anything hard came along, he would have no plan to deal with it. All Hwosh wanted was to take a long bath and forget about the world, but he knew that even that mind of his wouldn’t leave him alone. It would just be a torrent of worry amidst horrid memories.

  “So I just put this in a glass, and my debt is gone?” asked someone from Hwosh’s right, and for some reason the man peered over to where two obvious thugs were threatening someone. The boy looked to be about as old as Hwosh himself and as tall, although much smaller and prettier. Maybe he also had a few hidden talents to put the warrior to shame, but apparently avoiding intimidation wasn’t one of them, for the youth was visibly shaking in his perfect boots.

  “Sure,” answered one, the bigger of the two. His voice slipped and snickered as he spoke. “Someone will find you and hand over the thing. You’ve just got to find the drunkest man around at midnight, and slip it in his drink. The guy said it’s to sober him up, but he gets feisty when he’s drunk and won’t admit it so needs to have the stuff slipped into his drink. No harm done, save a rich noble some face and save your pretty face a whole lot of heartache down the line. Good deal for our little Lila, no?” The other one, who was smaller and stood as if he favoured one leg, cackled a little but said nothing.

  Could it be? thought Hwosh, not daring to hope. Part of him wanted to go get Percy and Adra, see what they thought, and ask them what to do. He crept to where he couldn’t be seen, behind a crate, and listened carefully, trying to reach Percy telepathically to no avail. If luck was truly on their side, then maybe the three of them could hatch a careful plan together. If not…

  “B-b-but… What if he doesn’t want to?”

  The smaller one slapped the boy, careful not to bruise him. “You don’t ask him, idiot! Weren’t you listening to what we said?”

  The boy began to cry softly. “I did,” he said, about to sniffle into his rather expensive looking uniform, looking like it was made for serving boys and girls. The taller one, who was bald, smacked Lila’s hand away, exclaiming “No, no, we wouldn’t want you to ruin that uniform, would we? Nobody even knows what you look like over there, all you have to get in is that thing. Keep it safe, will you?

  “Y-yes, Deg…”

  “Good, make sure you do it right, or loan collection will be paying you a visit. Gump, let’s go.” With that, the two thugs strutted off to the opposite side Hwosh had come from, one looking around and giving the boy a little wave.

  While Lila cried himself into calm, Hwosh thought quickly. If this was the same banquet, then he had to act quickly lest the boy leave. There was no time to go get Percy or Adra. Steeling himself calmly, the youth drew himself to his full height and went over to the serving boy. “Hi, there,” he greeted him in, hopefully, a reassuring manner.

  Quickly, Lila rubbed away his tears before turning around. “W-what do y- I don’t have any money!” he announced, and Hwosh realized he’d made him think he was a robber.

  “Don’t worry, Lila,” he tried again, putting both hands up as if to calm a skittish horse. “I won’t hurt you, promise.”

  Slowly, Lila started to get more confidant and said, “My name isn’t Lila; it’s Daniel.”

  Hwosh was confused, and came closer to the boy, still cautious about frightening him in the dark alleyway. “I’m sorry.” The boy seemed to draw power from the apology, and he stood a bit taller. All around, the bustle continued, although it was subdued by the houses on either side of the two.

  “You should be!” he exclaimed in a high pitched moan.

  “The two men you were with seemed to call you that,” explained Hwosh, and the boy stiffened. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw. I just need to be there tonight; it’s important. Someone could die unless we warn him first. I heard them say that no one would be able to tell the difference, that they wouldn’t check. If I could please have your uniform, everything will go perfectly like they said. No need to do dangerous things, and your debt will be erased exactly as you wanted.” Telling the lie hurt, but Hwosh decided to help the boy once this was all over to soothe his guilt.

  For all intents and purposes, Hwosh thought the proposal was quite reasonable. He was starting to relax himself, hoping that for once things would go smoothly. Thus the warrior was taken entirely aback when Daniel’s face contorted itself and he wailed, “You, wear my uniform? Nonsense!”

  “…What?”

  “The sizes are all wrong,” complained the boy, showing off his thin shoulders on his gold threaded uniform. “It would be too tight. Besides, the servers at council balls and banquets are only the most attractive men and women. Look at your skin, your eyebrows. Ugh, what an unsightly jaw! You’d never make it, the first high class lady to take wine from your glass would spit it out and mess up all her conversations for the day.”

  “Uh, sure, but that’s not really the point. I don’t want to work there. I just need to get in tonight to save someone.”

  “Hah! And you think to blend in without looking and acting your best? If I were a humanitarian, I’d offer to train you in grace and care. However, I am a realist.” The warrior actually thought that the boy was going to pose. “I understand that people like you are different from those like me. We are of different stock, and always will be. Begone, and never think to raise yourself from being a simple brute! You are inferior. I might one day even be taken by a lady to be her private servant!”

  Hwosh sighed, looking at the sky above. There was no time left, and this fool was bragging about the shallowest things anyone had ever heard of. “Look, are you going to help me? I’m sorry about your stock, but this really is more important.”

  “Silence, Mongrel!” shrieked the servant, finger waggling imperiously as he pouted, “Your lies will not wo-“ Hwosh leapt in, swift as a nightmare, and struck him on the back of the head. He held him before his body could hit the dusty ground, and stripped him of his clothing. When he was dressed as a servant, the warrior tried to remember Daniel’s mannerisms for Percy and Adra, then said, “Sorry, Lila.”

  Percy and Adra were surprised when Hwosh returned not with a bag, but with new information and a disguise. Within a few minutes, their misery turned into elation. Percy whooped, Adra did a little jig, and Hwosh remained composed as usual. It would have been a lie to deny his happiness, however, and the warrior knew that moment would stay with him for many long years.

  However, things took a sour turn when Hwosh discovered it was his job to sneak into the council’s ball room and let Percy and Adra in. “Look, I’m an old man and she has the manners of a Ramlah Lizard,” Percy explained. “Neither of us has any chance of fitting in as servants at all. You’re our best chance, and when you’re given the poison, go show it to someone or tell the mister Wedd himself, if you get a chance to.” Hwosh grumbled, but there seemed to be precious little choice in the matter.

  So it was that a few hours later, Hwosh found himself in an extravagant hall of chandeliers, gold and crystal, balancing a silver tray in one hand and folding the other behind his back. People spoke everywhere, and soft music was playing from a crystal somewhere. The place was fil
led with men and women dressed in beautiful clothing and made up with substances and powders, and it took all of his discipline not to use his other hand to brace himself against every incoming person, weaving around instead. The scents of lavender, cinnamon and all manners of perfumes mingled together, making the place seem like a garden of flowers if one could but shut one’s eyes. The suit of beige with golden patterns felt tight and itchy against his skin, and for the second time in his life, Hwosh felt the pain of being ignored like a piece of garbage on the side of the street. As he passed, snippets of conversation drifted over to the warrior, some adding to his disgust with the every flamboyant waste of money displayed here instead of spent in the service of the masses:

  “Lord Hutha, I’ve heard your new mansion is…”

  “Pooh, if they learned to pray more, perhaps they’d be distracted from the…”

  “But truly, our current taxes are poorly invested in agrictult...”

  “Knowledge is truly only fit for some. I say, if they can grovel in the streets, then perhaps their time would be better spent working than in school, don’t you think?”

  By then, Hwosh had already let in his friends, and he could see Percy walking about on the other side of the hall, looking slightly green. The warrior felt sickened by some of what he’d heard, and could not imagine how bad it was for his friend, who could see into their thoughts. He excused himself for a few minutes, and spent most of that time looking for Tamas Wedd around the buildings many hallways and fancy rooms. If the man was as drunk as he usually got in Splinter, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be in the ballroom.

  Just when he was about to give up, someone called out to Hwosh from a ways off. Turning, he spotted a man standing right by a small garden filled with rare flowers. “Where have you been?” the man demanded as Hwosh remembered his supposed job and ran towards him.

  “My apologies, sire,” said the warrior, turning his tone as pretentious yet grovelling as possible, as if he were second only to this man. “Did you require something of me?”