The Innkeeper's Son

by Jeremy Brooks

  Carleton sat glistening at the bottom of a long descent toward the ocean. With its white buildings, the whole city appeared to shimmer from a distance. There was a concentration of buildings in the middle of the city, with several more white structures fanning out along the coast on both sides. Three long piers jutted out from the downtown like tree branches reaching out to sea with docked ships rocking gently like leaves in the breeze. As they drew closer, small dots could be seen moving about the streets and piers of the city. Seeing the city re-energized the group, and they picked up the pace as they neared the end of their trek across the island.

  The road they were traveling led them directly into the heart of Carleton. As they entered the city’s inner limits, they found it difficult to move with any speed. The streets were teeming with tourists and their attendants, either riding in carriages or walking along observing the wares in the windows of shops that lined both sides of the streets. It became even worse as the road led them into a large square, replete with hawker’s booths, entertainers, and a great marble fountain spouting streams of water from the mouth of a giant sea creature, carved as though it were bursting straight out of the ocean. The tourists moved with no sense of purpose or urgency, meandering slowly about, oblivious to everything around them. They frowned with irritation every time Givara asked one who was blocking a path down the street to move. Apparently, Sim thought to himself, when you took a vacation, you left your manners at home.

  It took a great deal of prodding, but eventually they made it past the main square and came down a street that opened up to one of the piers. The pier was a massive stone structure that extended several hundred feet out to the ocean. Dock workers and deck hands scurried about, on nameless errands, moving with urgency on and off of the large ships docked on the pier. The ships didn’t look at all like the merchant vessels he was accustomed to seeing in Dell, and Enaya explained to him that many of these ships were traeggers. Traeggers were ships built solely to transport with speed and comfort, rather than for mercantile purposes. They used some kind of power, which Enaya said she wasn’t in the mood to explain, to help them sail across the water faster than the wind could blow them. In a traegger, you could cross over a hundred leagues in a day.

  Suddenly an enormous winged beast flew over their heads and soared up into the sky over the ocean. Sim wasn’t sure he believed his eyes when he noticed several people seated in a compartment strapped to the beasts back. Neither Enaya nor Givara chanced a glance at the creature as though it were a perfectly normal thing to see.

  “What was that thing?” he asked no-one in particular, more a question of wonder than a need for answers.

  “A trevloc,” Enaya replied offhandedly. She was studying the dock with Givara, looking for something, not willing to waste time explaining to Sim things that were mundane and everyday to her.

  “What’s a trevloc?” he asked, watching the giant beast soaring gracefully off into the horizon.

  Enaya rolled her eyes and sighed with frustration. She fixed an annoyed look at Sim as though she was in the presence of a child that had a question for every single thing he saw.

  “Trevloc’s are transports,” she told him as if she were explaining the simplest thing in the world. “They can carry several people in a carriage on their backs. They are an extremely fast and expensive way to travel. A good trevloc can fly for two days straight without rest. On a trevloc’s back you could make it around the entire world in less than two weeks.”

  Sim was speechless. There was so much he didn’t know about the world. How had he never heard of such a marvelous creature? Watching it disappear over the horizon, he truly began to feel like a hopeless rube.

  He was so caught up in the spectacle of the trevloc that he hardly noticed Enaya and Givara riding away toward the dock. Sim had to scan the throng of people to find them and then hurry to catch up. The ladies worked their way through the crowd heading for the first docked treagger. The dock workers made a path around Enaya and Givara showing a proper deference for a woman dressed in fineries and her scowling consort, but they made no effort at all to make space for Sim. Sim guessed that the dirty linen shirt and course brown workpants he was wearing made him appear to be an attendant to the two women and thus not worthy of any respect.

  Sim was able to catch up with them only after they had stopped to talk to a man with a large brown book standing next to a gangway. He was a short, thin, balding man, with a scruffy tuft of red chin hair and a face full of freckles.

  “I’m sorry my Lady, but that is the price,” he told Enaya firmly, holding his book open with one hand and preparing to write with the other.

  “That is outrageous, Master Gedman,” huffed Enaya indignantly as Givara nodded in agreement. “Two gold marks for passage to Nal’Dahara? Absurd!”

  The little man closed his book and slid his pen into a slit in the books leather cover. He seemed tired and impatient; a man who’d had enough of bargaining with potential passengers.

  “I’ve given you my price Lady Edmira.” He motioned with his free hand out to the rest of the dock. “You’re welcome to try another traegger. I wish you luck in your search for passage.”

  Enaya studied him for a moment, perhaps trying to decide if his indifference was a negotiating tactic. She and Givara exchanged a quick look, making Sim wonder if they could communicate without speaking. He wanted to ask about the name Gedman had called Enaya, but kept his mouth shut.

  “Good day then, Master Gedman,” she said at last, using the haughtiest tone she could manage. “I wish you strong winds and peaceful seas.”

  With that she kicked her mount forward, followed closely by Givara, and set out for the next traeggar. Sim tried to stay as close to them as possible this time.

  The next two traeggars were no different than the first. One was asking four gold marks for an interior cabin and the other was asking three. There was only one more traeggar left on the docks and they had rooms available for one gold mark. Enaya tried hard not to show her excitement. She had been extremely irritable ever since they had reached the city and frankly Sim was getting tired of her petulant attitude. She was about to book their passage, reaching in her coin purse for the fee, when the shipmaster informed her that the ship wouldn’t be leaving for three more days.

  “Three days!” Enaya shouted at the thick, hairy man. “We need to leave right away. We don’t have three days.”

  “Three days, my Lady,” he said, throwing his hands up indignantly. “I’ve a schedule to keep.”

  Enaya and Givara moved off to the side and put their heads together. Both women looked vexed, and the shipmaster shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, clearly hoping to avoid the tempers of two upset women. After several moments of conferring, Enaya finally turned back to the nervous shipmaster and sniffed.

  “Three days is much too long, Master Harr. We have business that can’t wait.”

  Without another word she turned and started her mount back down the dock. Sim hurried to catch up and led his mount beside her. She had barely spoken a word to him since they had arrived in Carleton, and he was getting tired of being left out of the decisions.

  “Well then?” he asked, wearing his displeasure. “What now? Have you got any other ideas?”

  Enaya clicked her teeth and frowned at him. “We leave with Master Gedman, boy.” She made sure to put extra emphasis on ‘boy’.

  “Master Gedman? What was the point of wasting all this time if you’d planned to go with the first ship all along?”

  She raised an eyebrow at his confrontational tone.

  “Are you paying the passage, boy? Hmm?”

  Her blue eyes were icy, condescending daggers meant to put him in his place.

  “Obviously not.” He felt small when she looked at him that way.

  “That is why you don’t have a say.” She stopped her horse and spoke to him directly. “I don’t mean to sound so crass, Sim, but you are an inexperienced village lout. It’s not your fault, but
you must acknowledge that you are in over your head right now. You didn’t even know what a trevloc was for heaven’s sake. What advice can you give us in matters of travel or planning? Hmm? What you need to do for now is watch and learn. Givara and I know what we’re doing, and I promise you, Siminus, we have your best interests at heart.” She paused, her face softening. “We’re going to go with Master Gedman because his ship is leaving in the morning, and he‘s going to Nal’Dahara. It’s the soonest we can leave, and he is going somewhere that will be to our advantage.”

  Sim was trying his best to control his temper. He was really getting tired of being treated like a child by her. But he knew that she was right as much as it galled him to admit it. He really was an inexperienced village lout, although he was also a quick learner.

  “What do you mean, to our advantage?” he asked, as she kicked her mount forward.

  “We need answers, Siminus. We need direction. In Nal’Dahara we can get both.”

  Sim nodded and followed.

  They found Master Gedman where they had left him, standing beside the gangway with his book tucked under his arm. As they approached, he smiled knowingly, readying his book and pen.

  “Shall I put you down for one room or two?” he asked a little too smugly.

  “Two rooms, Master Gedman. I'll pay half now, and half when we board tomorrow morning.” Enaya told him coolly.

  “As you wish my Lady.” Gedman’s blue eyes twinkled. The little man was enjoying himself far too much.

  Enaya looked him over for a moment. Sim couldn’t tell if she was disgusted by the man or amused by him. Then she waved her hand at Givara. “Pay the man.”

  Givara jumped off her horse and produced a purse from beneath her black riding cloak. Sim’s eyes drifted to the hilt of her sword protruding from her curved scabbard. He only caught a glimpse but his mind held onto the image of a crystal leaf inlaid on both sides of the grip. It was the same as the broach that fastened the cloak around her neck. He wondered what it meant.

  Givara handed the man two gold marks and rested a hand on her sword hilt. She towered over the little man. Sim wondered how Gedman’s knees managed not to buckle under the weight of her intense iron stare. Gedman put away the coins, making a notation in his ledger. When he looked up at Givara, the smile faded from his freckled face.

  “Know this, little man,” Givara hissed at him, “Lady Edmira is no-one to trifle with. Do I make myself clear?”

  Gedman swallowed and looked at Enaya then Sim. In his eyes he seemed to be asking Sim if he was jumping into a kettle of boiling water.

  “I’d watch my step, Master Gedman,” Sim chided him, ignoring the hard look Enaya leveled him for speaking out of turn. “I’d sooner lock horns with a hungry Mansabull than cross these two.”

  Gedman nodded, and relaxed. “I will see you in the morning then, my Lady?”

  Enaya said nothing in return. She simply kicked the stirrups and led her mount back toward the city. Givara hopped back into her saddle and scowled at Sim. They both hurried after Enaya.

  “Where to now, my Lady?” Sim asked not hiding the mirth he was feeling.

  “We find an inn, boy,” Givara snapped at him. Apparently Enaya was going to ignore him again.

  They rode in silence back to the end of the dock coming to a street that ran parallel with the shore line. Both directions showed buildings with signs promoting taverns and inns. Enaya led them to the right, slowing her horse in front of every inn along the way, inspecting the establishments from the outside. They passed several, and Enaya dismissed them for her own reasons before deciding on one called the White Coral. It looked like every other inn that they’d passed to Sim. It was a white plaster building, several stories high, with a big bay window looking into a half empty common room, and a wooden sign hanging above the door bearing a white seashell.

  Sim was told to wait outside with the horses while they went inside to inquire about some rooms. He tied the horses to a pole by the corner of the building and leaned against the wall to watch the people walk by.

  It felt good to be alone. Since they had left Dell, Enaya hadn’t let Sim out of her sight. It was a great relief to have a moment by himself, even if only for a few minutes while they spoke to the innkeeper.

  The people that passed were very diverse. He saw a group of tall, brown skinned men carrying sacks of grain, laughing together as they went about their jobs. Despite the heavy burdens and beads of sweat dripping from their shirtless bodies, they seemed to be enjoying themselves. It made him think of some of the daydreams he often had back in the barn at the Kelmor Inn. He had imagined himself as a deckhand on Sarimus' ship, swabbing the decks or pulling the sails. Seeing real sailors performing menial tasks made him feel embarrassed. Maybe Sevin had been right. Traveling the open seas on a merchant trader had seemed a glorious life to him, but he’d never considered the reality -- long days of back-breaking labor for little pay.

  A group of four women passed riding in an open, wooden carriage pulled by three men. These men did not look happy. Strain and sweat marked their faces, their clothes were rags, and their limbs seemed too frail to handle the weight of the cart. The women wore white silk dresses with floral trim; this was a fashion common among the wealthy ladies he’d seen around Carleton. Wide brim hats hid their eyes, but their lips showed the wide smiles of women delighting in their tour of the city. Sim felt saddened by the scene. The wealthy indulging themselves at the expense of the poor. He wondered if the men were even paid servants. Once Sarimus had told him of lands where men were enslaved and forced to work for rich nobleman. Sarimus had spoken passionately of his disgust for anyone who lacked regard for human life. “To take a man’s freedom,” he had told Sim that day, “was to take his gift from God.” Watching the carriage disappear down the street, Sim felt like he could understand what Sarimus meant.

  “Have you a copper to spare?” asked a raspy voice from the alley behind him.

  He turned to see who had spoken and saw an old beggar creeping toward him along the side of the inn. He wore a beaten gray cloak large enough to cover two men, with the hood pulled over to shroud his eyes in darkness.

  “Well boy? Have you a copper?” His voice was like a spoken cough.

  Sim’s right hand reflexively sought out his sword hilt. There was something off about the man. His intuition told him the beggar was not what he seemed. The cool steel of the hilt felt good as his hand closed around it.

  “Go away. I’ve nothing to give you,” Sim told him. The beggar crept steadily forward. “Come any closer to me old man, and I’ll have your head.” He drew his sword and took a defensive stance.

  “Is this how you treat those less fortunate, Siminus?” the old man asked, his voice changing from a rasp to something familiar.

  “Who…” The beggar lifted his hood just enough so Sim could see his whole face. There were a pair of gray steely eyes and a thick scar that ran from the left side the beggar’s mouth to his left ear. It was Farrus. If his mouth hadn’t been frozen with shock, Sim might have cried out with joy.

  Farrus held a finger to his lips and motioned for Sim to ease off the street and into the alley. Once off the street, Farrus took Sim’s arm and pulled him in close to whisper in his ear.

  “Are you alright? Have you been followed?”

  “I’m fine. I don’t think so.”

  “Good. Is Maehril with you?”

  The question hit Sim like a hammer on a forge. How had he forgotten about Maehril? He’d been so wrapped up in his own pain and loss that he’d completely forgotten about her. Sarimus and Sevin had both told him to guard her with his life, and he’d let them down. He was almost afraid to answer.

  “I couldn’t find her Farrus,” he replied despondently. “When the city was attacked…she just disappeared…I didn’t…”

  They heard the door to the inn open suddenly, and Sim could hear Enaya cursing him.

  “Meet me in the common room tonight,” Farrus whispered as he let go
of Sim’s arm and hurried off down the alley.

  Sim watched him dart behind the back corner of the inn wondering what had just happened. He turned around and saw Enaya and Givara standing a few feet away at the head of the alley, arms folded, scowling at him reprovingly.

  As he walked sheepishly toward them, Givara raised one long, slender finger and waved it in his face.

  “One task, boy! One simple task!” She was seething.

  “Calm down, Givara,” Enaya chided her reproachfully. She looked at Sim askance. “What were you doing over there?”

  “Nothing,” he shrugged casually.

  She eyed him suspiciously.

  “You’re in luck tonight, Siminus,” she said, her face suddenly brightening. Sim raised a hopeful eyebrow. “The inn is very slow tonight. I was able to get you your own room for a very reasonable price.”

  “Thank you, Enaya,” he said gratefully.

  She smiled at him warmly. Her blue eyes sparkled beautifully.

  Givara took the horses down the alley to the stable attendant, while Sim and Enaya went inside. The common room had only a few patrons dining on what looked to be some kind of stew. It smelled wonderful, especially after a few nights of cold, dried meat and hard bread. Sim could hear his stomach calling out for attention.

  The innkeeper, Mistress Hisha, came over to greet them. She was a thin, aging woman, with long black hair, specked with streaks of gray. Her gray dress was hidden by a white apron that didn’t have a stain on it. Sim couldn’t remember ever seeing his mother with a clean apron. Mistress Hisha smiled warmly when Enaya introduced Sim as her attendant, Mark. Sim glanced at her sideways momentarily confused by the fake name, but realized that Enaya would want to hide his identity in case anyone came looking for him.

  They followed her to a room out back where several stalls were setup with large brass tubs. Three of the tubs already had steam rising from them, and towels and soap set up on a shelf built into each stall. After thanking Mistress Hisha, Sim and Enaya picked their own stalls and after undressing, sank happily into their perfectly heated baths.