Ez Ozel: Prologue to Perdition

by Dave Oliver

  A small, nagging voice in the back of his head tempted him with thoughts of quitting the estate—leaving Merrik to tend to himself and abandoning House Severil entirely. It wasn’t the first time the idea had toyed with him, and it wouldn’t be the last. He glanced over at his charge, who was wriggling in his blankets to get comfortable on the worn wooden driver’s bench. As irritating as he was, Alregon couldn’t bring himself to leave. Probably never would. This reckless and selfish master was the closest thing he was ever likely to have to a son. Besides, he owed Merrik’s late father far too much to call it quits.

  Everything was so flat and plain in this part of the country. Fields went on into the horizon, farms came and went, and travelers were rare. It would get much busier in the fall months as crops and goods made more shipments between all these farms and the major cities. Bish stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a few hours, which probably meant he was busy drinking that foul inebriant he kept a special stash of.

  Conversation was light until midday. Something about lunch gave people the bug to be chattier.

  Alregon reached into the sack tucked behind Merrik’s side of the bench and grabbed two small metal boxes. One was painted black and the other blue. He set the black box next to the sleeping patron so he could eat whenever he woke. Alregon opened the blue box and picked at the meal put together by the kitchen staff. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but the food and minor activity kept him focused on the mind-numbing road.

  “We’re making good time,” Puma said from the back. He stood near the front of the cargo bed. He ate some dried meat and an old bread husk while he watched the heartland roll by. “Lots of open country ahead. We should hit Comfort in not too long.”

  “You know this part of the country well?” Alregon asked.

  Puma nodded. “I grew up near Old Fallow. Traveled all over in my younger days. Anyone growing up near Old Fallow wants to get away from Old Fallow. If you don’t get out while you’re young, you get trapped forever farming the same uncooperative land until you die.”

  “So, no fond memories?”

  “Of course there are some,” Puma said. He smiled for a moment, then let it slide away. “And others aren’t so fond. In any case, it’s well north of our route. We won’t see it, thankfully.” He turned and sat back in his perch.

  Alregon couldn’t recall seeing him smile before; he was always so serious. He seemed nice enough, but people always say to never trust someone who doesn’t smile. Probably best that Puma let one slip, then. As interesting as these two mercenaries were, he was glad they came so highly recommended. He really did feel safe with them around.

  ***

  It was early evening when they pulled into the town limits of Comfort. Alregon was entirely clueless about this region, and this place was a weird combination of residential buildings, temporary stalls, and warehouses. He turned around to consult with the mercenaries, and he came face-to-face with Bish in his usual spot. Bish gave a large, hideous smile filled with rotten teeth and heinous breath.

  Alregon looked forward again and asked, “Do you know this settlement?”

  “Comfort? A little bit,” Bish replied. “We been through it a time or two. Not much in the way of amusements or lodgings, but they have a couple merchants.”

  “No lodgings?”

  “Well,” Bish said, “it’s not really a true town. Farmers built it as a trading area for themselves and other farmers. It’s gotten bigger and bigger over time, so some vendor folk have moved in too, but it’s still missing a few things to make it a proper town. There are some flophouses we could stay at. They’re really just extra rooms in someone’s house though, not a proper inn.” His eyes widened as a memory struck him. “There’s this one lady that makes a killer meat pie, and she rents rooms.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Puma said from his perch.

  “What?” Bish asked, turning around.

  “You eat those pies again, you’re sleeping outside with the horses.” Puma glared down at him.

  “You’re such a nag.” Bish turned back to Alregon, his hands up innocently. “So my stomach doesn’t agree with them. It’s not that big a deal. They’re delicious!”

  “You blew through every pair of pants you brought with you. That lady’s nice linens were absolutely ruined. She probably had to burn them. And you almost made the horses run off when they smelled you.”

  Bish waved his hand in dismissal, as if to suggest that was all hyperbole. Alregon had the feeling that Puma was probably being frighteningly accurate.

  They rolled into town as the sun had all but set. The moon took up most of the sky, and stars littered the night. Bish directed them to the house where they might find a room, and Alregon pulled the cart up. Merrik was stirring, but didn’t seem to be awake. His lunch box for the day was empty next to him, which meant he’d nibbled his way through a whole meal without any puking episodes. Small victories. Alregon let him be while he tended to the cart, tying it to a support beam on the building and fetching food and drink for the animals to have overnight.

  Bish and Puma strolled inside, and shouting soon followed. Alregon finished his tasks quickly and entered the building. Bish had his hands up, and a woman who must’ve been in her fifties had a machete raised toward him. Her face was filled with fury. Puma had his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

  “The fuck are you doing here?” the woman demanded.

  “We was just looking for a room. We stayed here last time we traveled through.”

  The woman squinted her eyes, moving her gaze between the two of them. “I remember you. You’re the one who kept shitting everywhere.”

  “Aye! You do remember. You made the most delicious meat pies.”

  She slowly nodded. “Yeah, I remember. You ate seven of them and left the remains of them behind all over the house. I stopped renting rooms because of you.”

  Alregon stepped forward. “I apologize for my…escorts here.” He looked at Bish and jerked his head toward the front door. Bish got the hint and waddled outside. “We were just looking for lodgings for the night. Do you know where we might find some?”

  She lowered her weapon. “There’s a proper hotel down the street now. Only got a couple rooms right now, but they’re still building.” She eyed him up and down as she glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others were leaving. “Go check with them if you need a place, though your friend might want to think twice about walking in all familiar with that giant sword on his back.”

  “Thank you. And I apologize again for him. He’s an effective hired hand, though his tact leaves something to be desired.”

  “You got a talent for understatement.” She smiled at him.

  He smiled back. “I-I have some coin I’d like to leave you for the disruption, and some for whatever the fat one caused you in repairs.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “I can’t take your money. You ain’t done me no wrong.”

  “I’ll take it out of his pay.”

  “In that case,” she said, her smile returning, “I’ll gladly take it.”

  “Come on, fancy britches,” Bish called from outside. “We can see the inn from here.”

  Alregon set a small pouch of coins on a stand near the door and turned to leave. He stopped a moment. Something warmed inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was talking to someone from outside Ryten, someone from outside his social caste, or just someone so beautiful, but he felt remiss in leaving so abruptly. She spoke plainly, she was dressed in drab farm clothes, and her house could have used some better smells. She exuded her own particular brand of charm nonetheless. He’d be an idiot to ignore that. He turned back around to face her.

  “I realize this is forward,” he said. “But I was curious if you’d like to have breakfast with me tomorrow before we depart. I assume you’ve already had your dinner, or I’d have asked for that.”

  Her smile turned shy and her color changed. “Can’t say I’ve been courted in…well let’s just say
a long time.” She glanced back at her kitchen. “I’d be happy to share a meal with you. I’m afraid I ain’t got much. How do you like ham and eggs?”

  “Famously.” He walked forward and took her hand. He raised it, bowed slightly, and planted a kiss on the back of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. And I insist on paying for whatever the meal costs you.”

  “Goodness, you do things proper. I look forward to it.”

  Alregon stood straight and smiled. “So do I. Enjoy your evening.” He turned and walked out the door. As soon as it clicked closed behind him he stopped and took a long breath. He held on to one of the porch’s columns while he took a moment and let his nerves work themselves out. He hadn’t done anything like that since before he graduated finishing school. It felt good. It felt freeing. So much of his life focused on tending to the master that he’d forgotten how invigorating it could feel to get into something interesting and new.

  “You all right up there, buddy?” Bish was standing next to the cart with his hands on his hips. “Hotel’s right over there.” He pointed a little further down the street. “Got a bad picture of a man sleeping in a bed. It looks like someone’s head on the block. Oh man, there’s even more signs with shitty pictures down that way. Let’s get over there!”

  Alregon nodded as he put his mind back in order. He strolled over to the cart and put away the horses’ food and water. He jumped back into the pilot’s seat. Bish rolled into the back and they moved on to the inn. The center of town was an interesting mix of residences, shanties, and a few small restaurants. Each structure looked family made and family run. It was a simple and warm place, and Alregon loved it.

  Bish was right about the signs near the inn. He wouldn’t even have gone so far as to call them quaint or charming. They were just poorly done. Of particular note was one for a butcher that looked like a man with serious gout trying to mate with a piglet. Bish was riotous with his laughter.

  The hotel was a small place, but there were quite a few unfinished sections attached. Looked like they were being put up as they got materials. They pulled up alongside where some other animals were tied off, and they disembarked. Alregon tied the horses up and once again set out their food and water for the night.

  He turned to Puma, who was walking from the rear of the cart. “Watch the master, will you? I’m going to get us a couple of beds.” Puma nodded and leaned against the wood near where Merrik was sleeping with a light snore. Bish waddled past, following Alregon.

  “Think it might be best to let the gentleman take care of this one himself, Bish?” Puma asked.

  Bish turned to him and shook his head. “You’re no fun at all. You know that? What sort of cold fish would you be without me to brighten you up?”

  Puma continued his glare.

  “Fine, I’ll wait out here too. But don’t get used to this.” He leaned on the cart next to Puma, which made the vehicle sway slightly. Bish startled like he was about to fall, and a fart squeaked out. He and the cart both settled. Puma started to laugh. Bish joined shortly after. In a few moments, both were crying from laughter.

  Alregon approached the counter, where an old man with what must’ve been the largest eyebrows in the Commonwealth stood fiddling with his bow tie. He looked up as Alregon came closer, smiling at the fact that someone who clearly had money had come through his door.

  “How can I help you tonight?”

  “We need a few beds,” Alregon said. “There are four of us. Are you able to accommodate?”

  The innkeeper hissed and grimaced. “I’m sorry, but we only have two rooms currently. One is open, which has two single beds. The other is occupied by a gentleman who came in earlier today.”

  “Well that’s unfortunate. We’ll still take the one room and see what we can do about finding someplace for our other two members.”

  “Splendid! And sorry about that. We’re expanding as quickly as we can, but it’s slow going.” He grabbed a thick key from the wall and handed it to Alregon. “Here. You have the room farthest from the office. That’s ten plats for the night.”

  Alregon laid out some coins on the table and took the key. “Thank you. Also, do you have any doctors in your town?”

  “Sure do, though the later it gets the more expensive it gets to have them make house calls.”

  “I’m not worried about expense,” Alregon said. “Can you send for one to come see us in our room? I have a very ill master who needs some medical attention.”

  “Of course! I’ll send for him right away. Enjoy your stay.”

  Alregon left and headed back to the cart. Bish and Puma looked up, their faces red and eyes watery. He thought about asking what had happened but thought better of it.

  “We have a bit of bad news. There are two rooms with two beds apiece, but a gentleman is already occupying the first room.”

  “Can’t we just double up?” Bish asked.

  “They’re single beds.” Alregon looked Bish up and down. “So no.”

  “Hmph. And that guy’s taking up that other room all by himself?”

  “I’m…not sure. It sounded like it.”

  “Well that’s just selfish! I’m going to talk to him.” Bish started to walk over to the first door.

  “Oh, please don’t disturb him. We’ll find something else for you two.”

  “You make no sense sometimes.” Bish reached the door and rapped a few sharp knocks.

  After a few long moments, the door opened and Bish jumped in his own skin. A very large, pale man stood on the threshold. His absurdly muscular chest was bare, and he was covered in scars. His short, cropped hair was stark white and his eyes looked dead and gray.

  “Yeah?”

  Bish quickly composed himself. “Good man! We’ve been told that you may have an extra bed you’re not using. We have four travelers here and only two beds to set our weary butts upon.”

  “You want my extra bed?”

  “What a fine idea!” Bish said. He started to walk into the room but the man held him back with a palm to the forehead.

  “Any of you from the north?”

  Bish cocked his head. “What, like Halefort north? Never even been up that way.”

  The pale man grunted. “Fine, pay my night’s rate and you can use my extra bed.”

  “The full rate?” Bish acted wounded. “For half the room I should pay half the rate.”

  The man stood straight and casually flexed his impressive set of muscles. “You can pay the full rate or you can sleep in the street.”

  “Very well, very well. Fancy lad, some coins please. Travel expenses and all.” Bish turned when he didn’t get a response and saw Alregon heading through the other door, carrying Merrik. He sighed and looked up at the muscular stranger. “Ugh, how much?”

  The man paused for a moment. “Fifteen plats,” he said.

  “Fifteen? What does this place think it is? The August Keep?” He rummaged through his purse and grabbed a handful of coins. “Fine, take it. I’ll see if my employer will pay me back tomorrow.” He parted with fifteen shiny silver-colored coins with overdramatic difficulty.

  “What about your friend?” The man nodded over in Puma’s direction.

  “I’ll be fine,” Puma said, still leaning against the cart. “I don’t have a problem sleeping outdoors.”

  “See?” Bish said. “He’ll be fine, now let me at that sweet bed!” He charged at the doorway and the man slid out of his way. He toppled onto the floor and started working his way back to his feet.

  The pale man stepped into the doorway again to close the door. As he shut it, his eyes met Puma’s for a moment and sent a shiver down the mercenary’s spine. The door clicked shut and the lock clanked into place. Puma tried to put that bad feeling out of his mind while he hopped back into the cart and jostled his makeshift bed to make it more comfortable.

  After an hour or so, a portly gentleman with a small crate turned the corner from the main street and walked into the front office for the hotel. A few
moments later, he reemerged with the innkeeper and gave a big yawn while wiping his eyes lazily. They made straight for Alregon and Merrik’s room, where they knocked before being let in.

  Inside, Merrik was lying on the bed unconscious.

  “What’s the problem?” the doctor asked. He set his crate down on the small table in the room and pulled off the top.

  Alregon began explaining. “He’s prone to sickness, and we’re making a trip across the country. He’s not taking well to it.”

  The doctor eyed the patient up and down. “I should say not. Why would you travel so far if you know he’s in poor condition?”

  “He insisted, I’m afraid. He has important business to the east.”

  “Well,” the doctor said as he turned back to his crate and sifted through his tools and tinctures. “It’s not my business. Let’s see what we can find here.” The doctor pulled out a couple of devices and walked over to the bed. He tapped Merrik’s cheeks a few times to wake him, but he barely got him to respond.

  “He’s really out of it,” the doctor said. He began his tests, glancing up at Merrik’s face for reactions. Alregon and the innkeeper watched, unable to discern what any of the poking, pressing, and listening could identify. After a few minutes the doctor stood and walked over to them.

  “Well,” he whispered so Merrik would not hear, “I’ve got some good news and bad news. Good news is it’s just an infection. He must’ve picked it up on the road, and I have a tonic that should help with that.”

  “What’s the bad news?” Alregon asked.

  “His arms… They’re covered in some pretty bad-looking purple sores. I’ve never seen anything quite like them, and I have no idea what might be the underlying condition.” He turned and walked back over to his crate and grabbed a small ampule. He spoke louder so Merrik might hear him too. “Have him take a sip of this each morning and evening, and the infection should clear up. I know you’re on the road, but you should go to a hospital if his condition gets any worse.”