Perilous Travels (The Southern Continent Series Book 2)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  “You’re not a local person are you?” the man asked in a friendly tone. “Are you lost? Can we help you find something?”

  “I’m looking for a place to practice my weaponry and fighting work,” Grange replied. “But I don’t think your folks are going to give me much of challenge, from what I see. Is there a more competitive place I should look?” he asked bluntly.

  “You may think you’re some high caliber fighter, but this happens to be the most competitive gymnasium in the city,” the man said indignantly. “And I dare say that if you were to compete against our better members, you’d find you have a lot to learn.”

  “These aren’t your better members?” Grange asked.

  “No,” the man shook his head adamantly. “These are the people who have time during the day, and want to learn; the top folks come in the evening. Any of our regulars would look at them the same way you do. But I know the best of our folks are as good as I say. I don’t know how good you are,” he challenged.

  Grange grinned at the comment. “Is there some way to prove myself?”

  “Do you have time for a test?” the other man gave a crooked grin in response.

  And so it was that for the next half hour Grange and Luri, the manager of the armory, battled with each other with practice swords, spears, and without weapons. Grange used technics suited for the staff while dueling with the wooden spear, costing him points in the scoring, but he won the sword work and tied at the hand-to-hand grappling.

  “Are all pale people so good?” Luri asked him as they stood gasping and sweating at the end of the last match, a circle of the others in the gym gathered around to observe the contests.

  “I’ve had more training than most,” Grange allowed. “That’s what matters, not the way my skin looks.

  “Do you have many training in the morning?” he asked.

  “Not many,” Luri replied. “We have most of our best members here in the evenings. That’s when we have open competitions.”

  Grange promised to pay a membership fee, then returned to the embassy with hopes of practicing at the armory that evening. Upon his arrival at the embassy, he found Bartar, Astel, and Grace all sitting at the breakfast table.

  “Are you always an early riser?” Bartar asked. “We’ve heard that you’ve given the staff a great deal of concern by being up so early.”

  “Grace used to make me do chores before dawn, so I’m used to awakening and starting early,” Grange answered.

  “Where did you sleep last night?” Grace asked. “I tried to find you, and you weren’t where I was told you were.”

  “You went looking for him last night?” Astel asked. “I thought you said you wanted to go straight to bed.”

  “Well,” Grace blushed faintly, “I just wanted to make sure Grange was here. I did go straight to bed afterwards.”

  “I’d like to go to the palace today to pick up my belongings,” Grange said, as the other two young members of the party eyed one another following the revelation of Grace’s visit to Grange’s room.

  “And if there’s nothing on tonight, I’d like to go to a local armory to practice my weaponry,” he finished, watching Lord Bartar for his response.

  “So you’ve been here for less than a day and you already have a busy social calendar?” Bartar looked at Grange sternly. A moment later he grinned. “It’s your first day here; by all means explore and enjoy.

  “By tomorrow I may have followed up on your promise to perform music with Grace at the hospitals in the city, so don’t schedule anything until I know what your musical calendar turns out to be,” the ambassador said. “What armory are you involved in?”

  “It’s the Prince of Arms,” Grange answered.

  “I’ll go clean up and then go to the palace,” he said, then headed up the flight of stairs to his empty fourth floor.

  He stopped when he reached the door way to his room at the east end of the building and stared in surprise.

  A pair of house maids was finishing straightening up the room, a room that was significantly changed from the space he had left.

  “Pardon us, my lord, our work is done,” the two girls curtsied, passed him in the doorway and headed out, then down the stairs.

  Grange’s room had been cleaned, and outfitted with new furnishings while he was gone. A bed, a desk, a new table, chairs, a changing screen, a pair of rugs, and several potted plants gave the space an inhabited look.

  “Ladies,” Grange called after the maids. He turned and followed them to the stairs, where they had begun to descend. “What is this about, ladies?” he gestured backwards towards the room.

  “The morning staff reported that you were kind enough to offer to help, and they asked us to return the favor, so we’ve just had the livery men bring some furniture up for you and we’ve cleaned up a bit,” one of the girls replies. “I hope you don’t mind?”

  “No, not at all. I’m just surprised. Thank you. Please say thank you to everyone who helped,” he told them, then went back to his room.

  He had no clean clothes to change into, he belatedly realized, nor were there bathing facilities on his floor. He’d been used to having both the beach and a spring-fed stream to bathe in at Waters End, and he’d had luxurious facilities for bathing in Brieed’s quarters in the Palmland palace.

  He went downstairs and found the same maids he had just spoken to, sweeping the hall on the third floor. “Is there a place I could take a shower?” he asked the girls.

  “There’s a shower in the room at the east end of the hall,” one of the girls spoke up. “Directly below your room. No one is staying there.”

  Grange thanked the girls, then trotted down the hall. The east room did appear empty, and he quickly undressed, then happily entered the bath and slipped into a shower of cool water, luxuriating in the feel of sweat and grime rinsing away.

  “Hello? Are you cleaning?” a voice called, as he closed his eyes and scrubbed his hair clean.

  Grange started to turn under the shower water. He opened his eyes, and saw that Grace was in the middle of hastily turning her back to him.

  “Grace?” he called out, his voice rising an octave. “What are you doing?”

  She stood in the door of the bath, her back to him. “I came down the hall to look at this room. I’m thinking of moving into it.

  “I didn’t know you were naked, I mean, I didn’t know you were here,” she explained. “I didn’t really look.”

  “Oh, and a package arrived from the palace for you. I think it’s your things from your friends,” she added.

  “Would you have it sent up to me please? It has some clean clothes,” Grange requested.

  “I’ll go right now,” Grace said, and she fled from the scene.

  Within two minutes Gats appeared, carrying a box, and also with a robe draped over his arm.

  “I understand this is yours, my lord,” the butler said. “Will there be more things arriving?”

  “No, I don’t have anything else,” Grange answered.

  “You’ll need a more extensive wardrobe, I believe. Shall I send the seamstress up to measure you?” the urbane servant artfully suggested.

  “I should ask Lord Bartar about spending money on new clothes,” Grange blushed slightly as he answered.

  “It was his lordship’s suggestion,” Gats reassured Grange.

  “Then yes, what time should I expect her to arrive?” Grange wanted to know.

  “She’s waiting out in the hall,” Gats told him with a straight face. “Why don’t you put this robe on?”

  Grange took the robe, and seconds later a woman walked in through the doors, a very tall, slender woman with a serious gaze that seemed to pierce Grange’s soul.

  “You want to cover your body, do you?” she asked.

  It was an odd way, to phrase the question, Grange thought.

  “I’ll leave you two to work this out,” Gats said suddenly, and he left the room.

  “I’ll need to know what you plan to d
o in your clothes,” the seamstress told him.

  “Everything,” Grange answered vaguely, unsure of how to answer.

  “Will you go to the palace? Will you call upon pretty girls? Will you sleep in them?” the woman asked. She pulled a measuring tape from her apron pocket and began to measure him.

  “Yes, probably not, no,” Grange answered.

  “You won’t call upon pretty girls? Why not? Are you already settled on a sweetheart?” she asked as she knelt to measure his legs.

  Grange thought of Ariana for a moment, the jewel who had become a girl who had become the energy that propelled his demon-killing sword, and then he thought of Shaylee, who seemed to no longer wish to see him.

  “No, I don’t have a sweetheart, and I’m not looking for one,” he answered.

  “And you don’t sleep in your clothes? Do you have other clothes you wear to bed?” she asked as she rose to her feet.

  “I slept without anything last night,” Grange blushed faintly as he answered.

  “Oh, your room is so warm?” she asked as she maneuvered around behind him.

  “Yes,” he answered. “And I wear clothes to practice weapons at an armory,” he found a way to change the subject.

  “You’re already practicing weapons?” she asked with interest. “Are you really bad or really good? Those are the only two reasons I can imagine you’d start practicing.”

  “I’m not as good as I want to be,” Grange told her. “I can be better.”

  “So, we need clothes for physical action, clothes for the palace, clothes for everyday life, but no clothes to sleep in?” she ticked the needs on her fingers.

  “Maybe a light pair of pants to sleep in would be good,” Grange relented, thinking about sleeping up on the open roof.

  “Very good. And I suppose you want these as soon as possible?” she asked.

  “And could I have an extra set of palace clothes?” Grange asked. “I have to perform musically for some audiences,” he explained.

  “A musical outfit? That’s a new challenge,” the seamstress told him. She walked away two steps, her hand on her chin as she considered the idea of clothes for music.

  “I’ll have something for you,” she turned to face him. “This is your room?” she asked.

  “I have a room up on the fourth floor,” he clarified. “But there’s no shower up there; that’s why I’m here.”

  “I’ll find you, where ever you are. I’ll have something for you tomorrow, and the rest in the next few days,” the woman nodded her head, then started to walk away.

  “Excuse me, my lady, what is your name?” Grange asked.

  “Rigan,” she answered.

  “Rigan?” Grange grasped for a fleeting memory that was triggered by the name. It remained out of reach. “Well, I thank you for your help.”

  “My pleasure to assist,” she said, then turned and walked out of the room.

  Grange dropped his robe and put on the clean clothes from his package from the palace. He stopped momentarily as he opened the package when he discovered a folded piece of paper.

  “Grange,” the note began, “these were in the canoe, and of course they are yours. You are extraordinary, and I will always remember countless things about you, from the time that I first saw you in the sea. I hope you remember something about our humble village as you go about the great things in your life. Mother sends you all her fondness as well, your friend, Shaylee.”

  It was a bittersweet note, and Grange stood and stared at it for several long minutes, glad the girl had written a fond letter, but sad that it mentioned only the past. She seemed to have shut the door on a potential future relationship with him.

  He pulled on the clothes from the package, then went up to his fourth floor room once again. He spent minutes opening windows at both ends of the floor to start the breezes flowing through, before he went back down stairs to the first floor.

  “I’m going back to the armory,” he told Bartar, who was in the office. “May I have some money to pay the membership?”

  The nobleman looked at him with an amused smile, then pulled out several coins. “I’m sure it’ll be worth it. This seems like a better expenditure of funds than the things that Astel and Grace fritter silver away on. Now, where is this armory you’ll be practicing at?” he asked.

  Grange described the directions and landmarks, not knowing the names of streets.

  “Those sound familiar,” Bartar said, “though I don’t spend a great deal of time traveling around the city. With this heat and humidity it’s much better to stay still and quiet during the day.”

  Grange left the embassy and walked slowly, mindful of Bartar’s comment about the heat of the city. He arrived at the armory in the late afternoon, and found it much more crowded than it had been in the mid-morning. The air was warm and moist, thick with the scent of sweaty bodies working hard, despite the many large windows that had been opened along two opposing walls.

  “There’s the one I was telling you about,” Grange heard Luri exclaim.

  A small crowd moved towards him, and he recognized Luri in the lead.

  “I’ve come to pay my membership, and to see what the competition is tonight,” Grange said as he handed over a pair of coins.

  “You go with Androp over to the mats and practice your spear work for an hour. We’ll have the open mat competition with the sword then, and you’ll want to join that,” Luri assured him as he accepted Grange’s payment.

  Grange followed the wiry man who was his indicated partner to the back of the armory, and the two sparred ferociously until the whistle blew, their contest drawing the attention of virtually everyone in the building. Afterwards, Grange and Androp joined the dozen other people who signed up for spots in the open tournament for the night.

  “I told folks there was a new talent coming in who would make them all open their eyes wide,” Luri told Grange as he reached the registration table. “I handicapped you as one of the two best in the club already. They all want a crack at you.”

  Grange grinned at the compliment, and was immediately assigned to fence against the daughter of a local minor nobleman.

  “Do you know a girl named Asper?” Grange asked his first opponent, Jadie, as the two put on their pads before starting their round. “Her father is a trader.”

  “I’ve chatted with her at several balls and plays,” Jadie answere. “She’s a nice young lady. How do you know her?” That was one of the least intrusive questions Grange had to answer, as numerous observers questioned him about his skin and hair and place of origin.

  They quickly finished their chit chat and stepped onto the mat that was the designated place for their first match. Jadie fought in a style similar to Luri. During his morning match with the armory attendant, Grange had noticed that the match involved much more slashing than Grange had learned from Ariana and Brielle, who had favored more of a balance of stabs and jabs along with slashing attacks and defense.

  Grange employed the same mix of defensive actions that he had used against Luri, letting Jadie wear herself down quickly with an onslaught of efforts, before he went on the attack and successfully pushed her back to the very edge of the mat.

  “I concede,” she said in exasperation as she and Grange locked swords between them when they stood chest to chest at the end of the mat. “You fight differently,” she complained.

  “It’s just the way I was taught,” he said as he stepped back from the girl.

  “They taught you well, your teachers,” Jadie told him. “You’ll be coming here regularly?” she asked.

  “Probably most mornings. I don’t know my schedule yet,” Grange answered, as they walked together back to the registration table to see their next matches. They shook hands and parted as they found where they each needed to go.

  “I’m not a morning person, but maybe I’ll try to come in a couple of times to spar with you,” she told Grange as they went their separate ways.

  Grange faced a heavyset man in
his second match of the early evening, and only won after a long match of grueling endurance. The man used his stout build to push Grange backwards when they were in close contact, but Grange’s quicker blade work helped him to eventually overcome the difficulty and win their match.

  The third match Grange faced was an older man, a wily fighter who was able to switch his style to match Grange’s own, so that the contest was a long one between two equals. When Grange finally won, for the first time that evening there was a smattering of surprising applause for him.

  “I had been ranked as the best swordsman in the house, but you’ll take it over if you can do this every night,” the man said as they shook hands.

  Grange turned to see what his next match would be, and discovered where his applause had come from; Astel and Grace, along with Gats and Rigan the seamstress.

  “What are all of you doing here?” Grange asked. “Are you going to start weapons training?” he asked in surprise.

  Rigan laughed aloud, while the others grinned.

  “I overheard the young nobles,” she nodded towards Grace and Astel, “say they were going to come watch your prowess, and I asked if I could come along, to see how you move in your contests, so that I could sew your outfit together with the best fit for your needs.

  “Gats felt that I shouldn’t be unattended on the walk back to the embassy, so he’s here as my escort,” she explained.

  “So what have you decided about his fighting costume?” Grace asked.

  “It won’t be a costume,” Grange quickly corrected.

  “I don’t think he does a good job defending his lower legs,” Rigan answered. “But I’m not sure I can provide an outfit to address that. He defends his torso very well, but I think his neck is vulnerable the way he wields his weapon.

  “Of course, I haven’t seen him use the spear to know if he has different needs for that,” she added thoughtfully.

  Grange looked at her in befuddlement momentarily, until Luri called him over to the registration table.

  “Since you’re beating everyone your first night here, what would you say to fighting two at once?” the attendant proposed.