The Redemption, Volume 1

by Clyde B Northrup

  “Peace,” the kortexi said, “the Waters of Life are potent.”

  The now clear eyes focused on the kortexi kneeling over him. “I see you!” the old wethi exclaimed, his face brightening, and his eyes moving all around. “I see all of you!” he went on, leaping to his feet. He held up his hands and looked at them. “Oh dear, I am old! My hands were not wrinkled when last I saw them.” His voice sounded sad, but still he smiled widely; he looked at Blakstar. “It is true, then, what my blind eyes saw: you are Sir Karble reborn! I can see!” he shouted again, turning and moving quickly away, almost dancing as he crossed the square. Others in the square took up his shout; the tinker touched Blakstar’s shoulder.

  “Masters,” he whispered, “you must get inside quickly. Once the guards hear the noise, they will come to investigate, and seeing as you are the only outsiders here, you will be arrested.” The tinker looked around furtively. “Hurry!” he hissed, “before they come! Master William will take care of you inside the inn.” The tinker seemed to disappear into his stall, and, as the level of noise around the square increased, Thal tugged on the reins of his mount and grabbed Blakstar’s arm; they entered the inn’s yard and handed their reins to the boys waiting by the door.

  Blakstar followed the boys into the stable, intending to show them how to remove his mount’s saddle and tack; Thal mounted the steps and entered the inn, his eyes adjusting slowly to the dimness inside. He went to the counter and rang the small bell.

  “A moment, if you please,” a voice spoke from further inside.

  A few minutes later, Blakstar came in, followed by the two boys carrying their saddles and tack.

  “They told me this would be safer in our room,” the kortexi explained.

  “That’s right, sirs,” the taller of the two said. He was thin with red-orange hair and freckles. “Our tack room has been broken into before.”

  “Be quiet!” the shorter exclaimed, who had dark, almost black, hair and a clear complexion; his build was slightly bigger than his brother’s although still lean. “Father wouldn’t want us speaking of those things to strangers.”

  “They are guests, Jon,” the taller said. “Besides, one is a kortexi and the other a white maghi. Father said they are worthy of trust because of the orders they follow.” He set Blakstar’s saddle on the floor and looked at Thal. “My brother is sensitive about certain things, especially those involving our younger brother.”

  “Stop it, Jake!” Jon hissed.

  “You see,” Jake went on in a softer voice, “our younger brother, William, ran off and joined the local thieves’ guild. It was him who led the thieves here, and they took the gear of one of your fellows, Sir?” he waited for the kortexi to supply his name.

  “Blakstar,” he supplied.

  “You shouldn’t be saying this,” Jon inserted, speaking through clenched teeth.

  “Sir Blakstar,” Jake went on, “and your fellow kortexi went to look for our brother. He returned several hours later with his gear and William in tow; ma’ was bursting with tears. He stayed home for a few weeks, but then pa’ discovered him sneaking out at night, so William left and did not return.”

  Blakstar put one hand on the hilt of his sword, causing the golden topaz affixed to the pommel to glow. “Do you want me to go and get him?”

  “No,” said a new voice, the voice Thal had heard before, “he’d just run off again.” Master William limped, club-footed, into the room and stood behind the counter; he was a heavy-set wethi of middle years with a square jaw and face, dark eyes and hair. His middle son, Jon, most resembled him. “You boys would get more work done if you spoke less,” he noted to his sons.

  “But, pa’,” Jake protested, “you said we should be polite and friendly to our guests; besides, Sir Blakstar asked.”

  Master William’s mouth twitched as he held back a smile. “I’m sure he did, Jakob, now take their gear upstairs to our best room.”

  Blakstar started to protest, taking his hand from the handle of his sword, extinguishing the golden light, but Master William held up his hand.

  “First to arrive,” he noted, “first choice of rooms.” He looked at his sons who still stood unmoving. “Go on, then.”

  Jake picked up the gear he had set down, then climbed the stairs.

  Jon stopped on the first step and turned back to his father. “I did try to stop him, father,” he said.

  “I’m sure you did,” Master William replied, “now upstairs with you.” He smiled crookedly after Jon was out of sight, then looked back at his two guests. “They did not treat you too badly, I hope.”

  “Your sons?” Thal asked.

  “Oh no, not my sons,” William said, “I know they treated you well; I meant the guards at the gate.”

  Thal shrugged. “Nothing that we couldn’t handle, although it rankled my companion.”

  William smiled at Blakstar, and his smile made his whole face light with mischief. “I’m almost certain it did, Sir Blakstar. It is not in the nature of members of your order to tolerate such blatant and insolent behavior.”

  Thal laughed; Blakstar looked back to the inn’s front door. “I’d like to go out there and teach them some manners,” he noted through gritted teeth.

  William’s face fell. “You must not!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do not antagonize them further, or they will drag you off and lock you up, poison you, or stab you while you sleep, or simply leave you to starve to death,” his eyes darted around furtively, “they hate your orders.”

  “But why?” Blakstar asked. “What have we ever done to them? How many times have we liberated them from Gar’s armies?”

  “You exist,” William went on, “and they cannot stand the thought of someone more powerful than them: their pride won’t admit it.”

  Blakstar shook his head slowly, at a loss for words; William’s two boys came hurrying down the stairs, waved, and went back outside.

  “How is it that you manage to survive here, holding these views?” Thal asked.

  “They need me,” William snorted, “no one else will allow your orders a place to stay, so they tolerate me and my views, but, as you can imagine, I don’t share my views with anyone. I don’t think you’ve given your name, young master?” he noted, looking at Thal.

  “I’m sorry,” Thal apologized. “I am Thalamar, son of Kalamar, white maghi of Melbarth, but most call me Thal,” he said, reaching out and taking William’s hand. “This is Sir Blakstar eli kerdu ghebi, bearer of the Waters of Life and Sir Karble reborn.”

  Blakstar flushed brightly as he took William’s hand and shook it. “You didn’t need to add all those other names, Blakstar is sufficient,” he said out of the side of his mouth to Thal.

  Master William’s widened at Thal’s naming of Blakstar, but he shook his head after a moment. “No, he should introduce you that way, as it is proper.” He looked toward the door, still shaking the kortexi’s hand.

  “Is something wrong?” Thal asked.

  “What? No,” William said, finally releasing Blakstar’s hand. “I just remembered something that surprised me.” He took a book from under the counter, opened it, then handed a quill and bottle of ink to Thal, who took them and signed his name. He handed the quill to Blakstar. “Your full name, if you please,” William said.

  Blakstar ground his teeth but nodded, signing the book. His eyes strayed up the list of names, and he noticed that many of them also began with ‘Sir,’ recognizing many of the names as his masters at Karble. He looked up at William, who was smiling at him. “I see many names I recognize, among them the masters who taught me,” Blakstar noted.

  William nodded, still smiling. “Yes, your masters come through once a year in the fall, on their way to Holvar to meet with the Fereghen.” William looked up, hearing more sounds than were normal coming from the front of the inn.

  The door opened, and Jon stuck his head in. “Father,” he said in a harried voice, “there are many people out here, asking to see our guest.”


  William limped around the counter and put a hand on Blakstar’s arm. “Stay here,” he said, “and I will see who they are and what they want.” He nodded toward the inn’s common room. “Help yourself to something to drink.”

  The two young wethem went into the common room, found a jug of apple cider and some mugs, and poured themselves a drink. By the time they sat down and took a sip, they heard the door open and close, and saw Master William limping into the room, his square face wrinkled with concern.

  “What is it?” Thal asked, noticing the look on the innkeeper’s face.

  William frowned. “The inn yard is filled with sick and lame people,” he said, “who heard that there was a kortexi here,” he pointed to Blakstar, “one who healed the old blind wethi, Melnar, and they wondered if you would heal them.”

  Thal and Blakstar exchanged a look, then Blakstar set his mug down and started to rise.

  William stopped him, placing his hand on the kortexi’s shoulder. “So you did heal old Melnar; I thought as much.”

  “I have an obligation to help them,” Blakstar said, taking William’s hand from his shoulder.

  “I understand that you do,” William went on quickly, “but those who are in charge here will not like you meddling in their affairs.”

  Blakstar started to protest, but William stopped him again. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t help them,” William went on, “I’m saying that you should proceed very cautiously to prevent your actions from being noticed by the wrong people, if you take my meaning.”

  Blakstar looked puzzled by this, but Thal understood immediately what William was hinting at. “What are you suggesting he do, in order to help the people without attracting attention?” Thal asked.

  “I’ve sent most of them into the square,” William answered, “and let half-a-dozen, or so, into the stables; there is plenty of room, since you are the only guests. I’ve told the others who are moving about the square to watch for one of my sons to leave the stable and enter the inn by the front door. A few of them will then go around to the side of the inn, carrying baskets, as if they are bringing goods to sell, where they can enter the back of the stables, giving the baskets to those who are leaving.”

  “What if a guard stops them and discovers the baskets are empty?” Blakstar asked.

  “They won’t be,” William replied, “at least, they won’t be as they approach the inn. I’ve sent Jake to a friend and merchant who supplies us with fresh fruit and vegetables, to ask him to send the produce, a few pieces at a time.”

  Thal raised an eyebrow at this. “You’ve done this before?”

  William smiled at him mischievously. “Maybe,” he replied evasively. “It would not be unusual for someone like you, to go out to the stables and check on your horses,” he said in a whisper, and then went on in a louder voice, “I assure you, sir, that your horses have been taken care of,” he lifted Blakstar by the arm and led him to the inn’s front door, “but feel free to inspect them yourself,” he said, then opened the door and pushed the kortexi out. “My sons will show you that they have properly taken care of them; in fact, they are probably just finishing rubbing them down.” He closed the door on Blakstar, who shrugged and descended the inn’s steps and walked the short distance across the inn yard to the stable.

  “That drink has incredible powers,” William said, leading them back into the common room and refilling their mugs. “Where did you find this miracle drink?” Master William asked, going to and closing the door behind them.

  “This flask,” Blakstar said, pointing to his belt where it hung, now empty, “was part of the gear given to me on the Mountain of Vision, and it is the only container ever created that can carry the Waters of Life. In the room on the mountain where this equipment was stored, there is also a fountain; we discovered a second fountain in the tomb of Shigmar.”

  “That is a long way to go for such a powerful elixir,” William said, pouring himself a mug of cider, “but the journey would be worth it for such a drink.” He sat down next to Thal.

  Blakstar shook his head. “To drink the Waters without me would be death.”

  Master William was surprised by this statement. “How could something like that kill? I just saw it heal many sick, lame, and blind people,” he added, stunned by Blakstar’s declaration.

  “He speaks truly, Master William,” Thal noted. “The first time I drank the Waters, I suddenly felt so powerful that I believed I could have taken on Gar himself, and I was about to do so when Blakstar put his hand on me and brought me back to my senses.”

  William shook his head. “Incredible!” he whispered. He stood suddenly. “I must go see to your dinners,” he said, turning and walking out of the room.

  Thal drank from his mug, watching the kortexi thoughtfully. He set his mug down. “I wonder how, or why, the flask did not run out?” he asked.

  Blakstar drained his mug, then refilled it; he shrugged. “I don’t know about the flask, but I was told that the supplies in my saddlebags would not run out, as long as I never used any of them completely.”

  Thal tapped his chin with one finger, thinking. “If that is true of the flask,” he said, “why did we run out in the fire realm?”

  Blakstar shrugged again. “Maybe because we used it all?” he posited, his brow wrinkled in confusion.

  Thal sighed and sipped again from his mug. “Perhaps,” he noted, “but I cannot but be curious as to the why it works, or how it works.” He stopped, as they both heard sounds from behind them; turning, they saw a gray-haired, matronly wetha walking toward them, carrying a steaming tray.

  Blakstar’s eyes lit up, seeing the fresh hot bread and steaming stew. He inhaled deeply. “Mmm,” he hummed, “a home-cooked meal; we’ve been eating trail rations for too long.”

  Thal smiled at Blakstar. “You must be the inn’s mistress,” he noted as he turned to smile at the wetha bearing the tray. She set it down on a nearby table as Master William limped into view.

  “This is my wife, Mistress Marlena,” William said, “the one who keeps this place running so smoothly.”

  Mistress Marlena smiled at her husband. “No flattery now, Wil,” she said, “not while there are guests to be served.” She transferred the bowls and the bread to their table.

  Blakstar grabbed one of the thick slices of bread, covered it with butter, and took a large bite. “Mmm, fresh bread,” he said after swallowing, then he scooped stew into his mouth. “Delicious, Mistress Marlena; it has been a long time since I had stew and bread this good.”

  “Flatterer,” Marlena smiled, touching his arm lightly. “We’ll leave you to eat. Call if you need anything, or if you want more.” She turned and carried the tray back to the kitchen; Master William smiled and winked at them before turning and following his wife.

  Thal watched Blakstar, amused; a shadow of grief wiped the amused smile from his face, and Thal groped for his spoon, quickly shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth. Blakstar paused to look a question at the maghi. As Thal chewed the stew, he took a piece of thick-sliced bread and spread butter on it; he shook his head, as if responding to Blakstar’s unspoken question, and the feeling of grief left him, replaced by a feeling of wide-eyed wonder.

  “You are quite right, my friend!” he exclaimed, grinning. He took a bite of the bread, chewed and swallowed it. “I had forgotten how good a properly cooked meal could be!”

  They ate in silence for a time, until Blakstar emptied his bowl of stew, and the bread, and as he wiped his bowl clean with the last crust of bread, Jake and Jon came out of the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl and a second plate of fresh, sliced bread. Blakstar grinned at the boys, stacking his empty bowl onto the empty bread plate, pushing both aside. The boys set down the food they carried, Jon picking up the empty plate and bowl.

  “Give your mother my compliments,” Blakstar said, buttering another slice of bread and watching the butter melt. The boys smiled and left.

  Thal took a second slice of bread and
buttered it; his bowl only half empty. “You are eating as if this is your last meal,” Thal commented.

  Blakstar took a moment to swallow before trying to speak. “It is four days to Karble,” he said, “if the weather is good, so I am enjoying this meal, if that is what you mean. Besides, when we reach Karble–our next hot meal–it will be a formal banquet at which we will both be required to answer a multitude of questions, and so, eating will be difficult.”

  “So you are going to take advantage of this quiet meal,” Thal finished. “That is quite sensible of you.”

  Blakstar smiled in response and shoveled more stew into his mouth. Thal took a few more bites of his stew, then finished off his second slice of bread. When Blakstar finished his second bowl of stew, Jake came out of the back of the inn.

  “Would you like more stew, Sir Blakstar?” he asked.

  Blakstar shook his head, as his mouth was full of the bread he had just stuffed into it.

  “There is apple cobbler with cream for dessert,” Jake went on, “can I bring you some?”

  Blakstar swallowed, then a grin split his face. “Please, and give my compliments, again, to your mother.”

  “A small bowl for me, thanks,” Thal added.

  Jake bowed rather stiffly, as if he had just been practicing his bow, then returned to the kitchen. Master William limped out a few minutes later carrying a tray bearing two small bowls and a large bowl, each filled with steaming apple cobbler drenched in cream. Blakstar’s eyes lit up when Master William set the large bowl in front of him. The innkeeper sat down at their table after placing one of the small bowls in front of Thal.