With his boots slung over his shoulder, he quietly shuffled into the vacant guestroom and quickly shut the door. The spacious room was beautifully furnished, befitting a royal guest, but Jarak paid little attention to the rich accoutrements as he quickly, but silently, made his way towards the balcony and out to the carved stone railing. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a long rope, quickly tying one end around the sturdy stone railing and tossing the other over the edge. He had previously tied knots at regular intervals into the rope, allowing him to scurry down the rope like a skulking rat. Jarak used his legs to gently rock back and forth, causing the rope to sway until he was swinging over the balcony of Rath’s room. His bare feet gripped the stone railing and pulled him over onto the balcony, leaving the rope in place so he could return the way he had come. The glass door into Rath’s room was not locked and Jarak entered like a mist, his bare feet making not a sound.
“Rath,” Jarak whispered as he quickly tip toed over to the young man sleeping soundly in the bed against the wall. Rath was born into the noble family of a minor lord who owned land along the northern sections of the Pelm River west of the Devlin Mountains. He had exhibited a precocious intelligence at an early age, and when he turned eight his father had sent him to Cythera for schooling, where he quickly advanced through the most difficult classes. It was not long before he caught the attention of the school’s headmaster. So, when House Dormath came and requested a tutor for the young prince, Rath’s name had been at the top of the list. King Enden Dormath was looking for a smart young man, a little older than Jarak, someone capable enough to provide a sound education for his son, but young enough to be able to relate well with the prince. Rath was two years older than Jarak, and appeared in all other ways to be a perfect match. Although Rath was older, he did not look it. Where Jarak was tall and his body was quickly maturing into that of a young man, Rath was slight of build, with the softer look of a young boy. But despite their physical differences, they had developed a strong friendship over the years. “Rath,” Jarak whispered again, as he sat down on the bed, gently shaking his body to wake him.
“What,” Rath moaned sleepily, rolling over and slowly opening his eyes. “Jarak…what are you doing here?” He sat up slowly and rubbed his tired eyes. “Your father is going to kill you.”
“He won’t punish us because he will never find out,” Jarak said with a mischievous smile.
This time Rath scooted up in bed and shook his head vehemently. “Oh no, we aren’t doing anything. Besides, you have an exam tomorrow. I am not getting suckered into another nighttime adventure,” Rath said adamantly. Rath had chestnut brown hair that was cut short and close above his ears. His large round eyes, almost coal black, contrasted sharply with his smooth olive skin. His features were sharp, but delicate, almost feminine, which contributed to his boyish appearance.
“Rath, I am your prince and I am ordering you to come with me. Father cannot get mad at you if you don’t have a choice,” Jarak said as he stood up. “Now hurry up and get dressed. I have some coin that is burning a hole in my pocket.”
Rath shook his head defiantly. “Yes, I do have a choice. Last time we got caught Master Fallon threatened to kick me out of school.” Rath took various classes at the school working around his schedule as the prince’s tutor. He had less than a year to go before he graduated. “I will not take another chance like that. Besides, your father, the king, has more authority than you.”
Jarak turned toward Rath and smiled, putting his hands on his hips confidently. “Rath, you know as well as I do that Master Fallon could never kick you out of that school if I wished you to stay, and besides, we will not get caught this time. I promise I will be good. Now get up. That’s an order.”
Rath was obstinate, and he crossed his arms and looked away, avoiding the young prince’s gaze.
“Besides…I know you want to come with me anyway. I have coin enough for both of us. And guess who will be at the Black Cat tonight?” Jarak teased with an upraised eyebrow. Rath didn’t move his head, but his eyes betrayed his resolve and they pivoted with interest in Jarak’s direction. “That lovely redhead, Tayna, and I know how much you like her.” Jarak was not really sure if she would be working tonight, but he hoped that the information, even if false, would be enough to persuade Rath to join him.
Rath slowly turned and faced Jarak, and once he saw Jarak’s toothy grin and determined gaze, his stoic defiance melted, revealing the eager youth that he was. “Okay, but we can’t stay out for long and you have to promise to keep your audacious behavior under control.”
“My what?”
Exasperated, Rath threw up his hands in frustration and got out of bed. “Just be good…do you understand that!?”
“Do not worry, my friend. I will be on my best behavior.”
Rath was quietly moving about putting on his clothes. “That’s what I’m afraid of… your best behavior often leaves something to be desired.”
Jarak stood up straight and crossed his arms firmly. “Not tonight. You have my word.”
Rath was now sitting on the edge of the bed pulling on his heavy leather boots. He was clever enough to choose clothing similar to Jaraks, knowing full well that where they were going they needed to blend in. Finally he stood and grabbed a heavy long sleeved wool shirt. “Okay, lead the way.”
Jarak smiled and ran out to the balcony.
Getting out of the palace was a bit trickier than getting to Rath’s room. But this was not the first time they had accomplished it, and luckily for them Jarak’s route had not yet been discovered. The palace grounds had numerous trees, and one in particular had grown quite large, with one of its branches reaching out and hanging over the eastern wall. It was impossible for someone on the outside to take advantage of this, but from the inside one could easily climb the tree from the inside and move out onto the thick branch, and drop to the wall several paces below. Jarak had stashed a rope in the tree’s branches, and after making sure there were no guards nearby, he tied it to one of the many iron rungs embedded into the outside of the castle wall every five feet. The rungs were used to attach ladders to when the walls needed to be repaired or cleaned. They were placed just on the outside of the battlements, which enabled the boys to easily step onto the raised battlement, and climb down the knotted rope. Even Rath, who was not overly strong, had no problem descending the rope. The only possible problem would be that a guard might spot the rope. But it was unlikely as they seldom patrolled the wall from the outside.
They made their way through the city, heading towards the Black Cat, a brothel located a block from the Stye, which was definitely a place they did not want to venture at this time of night.
It wasn’t all that late and the city was just coming alive. During the day, Cythera bustled with activity as people worked and traded their wares. Thousands of merchants, farmers, and craftsmen, swarmed into the city to sell their goods at Market Square. During the lull when the merchants left, people prepared their suppers and settled in for the night. However, as evening deepened, a whole new group of people emerged, and not all of them were out for fun and entertainment. So they stuck to the well-traveled routes, meandering through busy streets, and looking into the empty shops as they made their way to their destination.
As Rath passed a bakery, the delightful aroma of sweet bread slowed his steps. “Hey, Jarak, let’s get a few sweet rolls for the walk.”
Jarak had also caught a whiff of the pleasant aroma and didn’t need much convincing. “Good idea,” he said as he opened the door and entered the establishment. The place was small, with room for a few empty tables arranged before a small counter covered with freshly baked rolls, meat pies, and sweets. There was a door that went to the back where Jarak guessed the kitchen and baking oven were located. At the counter, laying out some steaming sweet rolls, was a young girl about their age. Her flour covered baker’s apron failed to fully conceal the subtle curves of her body. Wisps of auburn hair had escaped the confines of h
er baking hat, and clung to her glistening face. She had clearly just been back by the oven, and perspiration gave her smooth olive skin a warm glow, which was further complemented by her bright hazel eyes and full lips.
“What can I do for you this evening?” she asked, setting the now empty tray down on a counter behind her.
Rath was eyeing the warm rolls, but Jarak paid them no heed, as he continued to gaze at the young woman behind the counter. “I’d like two of your freshly baked sweet breads,” Rath replied as he dug into his coin purse. “How much?”
“A tigg each,” she said, taking a pre-cut piece of paper and placing two steaming rolls on it. She gave Rath the rolls as he handed her the two coins. “And for you?” she asked, glancing at Jarak.
“Your name please,” he said with a confident smile.
“That will be…,” she paused, clearly confused by what he said. “What?”
“I’d like your name, Miss.”
Rath rolled his eyes, bit into one of the rolls, and stepped out of Jarak’s way.
The baker shyly hesitated then said, “My name is Landria.”
“It is very nice to meet you. Landria is a very beautiful name. I am Jarak.”
Landria smiled, blushing slightly. “Can I get you something to eat, Jarak?”
“Of course. What here was made by you?”
“My mother makes most of it. But I did bake these sugar sticks,” she said as she pointed to four pastries, each one looking like a mini braid, coated with caramelized sugar and dusted with some sort of reddish brown powder.
“They look fabulous. What is that sprinkled on top of them?”
“Nutmeg.”
“I will take all four of them,” Jarak announced.
Landria smiled, taking the pastries and wrapping them in brown paper. “That will be four tiggs please.”
Jarak reached into his coin purse and withdrew two silver shikes, handing the coins to her.
“That is too much, sir,” she said, handing the coins back to him as Jarak took the pastries with his other hand.
He knew it was too much. One silver shike was equivalent to five copper tiggs, and he had just given her more than double the amount that he owed. He put his hand up, refusing to accept the coins. “Keep them. It is a small price to pay for a glimpse of beauty.”
She smiled, pausing, unsure of how to react to such a bold comment. “Thank you, sir, but my mo…”
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Jarak said, smiling flirtatiously. Then he stepped back, bowing slightly, and added, “Until we meet again, Landria.” Then he turned and left, Rath close on his heels.
As they shut the door behind them, Rath stepped over to Jarak. “A small price to pay for a glimpse of beauty?” he mimicked.
“Watch and learn, my good friend. She will be thinking of me for days. Now, let us have some real fun.”
They walked another block when Jarak suddenly stopped, forcing Rath to follow suit and look back at him, his mouth full of sweet bread. “What is it?” Rath mumbled.
Jarak ignored him and walked down a side street, the darkness of the shadowed alley swallowing him completely.
Rath moved quickly to see what he was doing. When he neared him he noticed that he was squatting next to a young boy who was huddled in a door jam, his bony arms wrapped tightly around his body. Rath smelt the urchin before he even saw him. He must have been around eight. His hair was greasy, the tousled brown locks tangled like a rat’s nest. The boy’s face and bear arms were smudged with dirt and he was clearly hungry, cold, and scared.
“What is your name?” Jarak asked as he knelt before the boy. The boy said nothing, his large eyes wide with fright. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you. Here, do you want some food?” Jarak held out one of the sugar sticks. Clearly starving, the boy reached out quickly and took the food, shoving it into his mouth and swallowing it in several great gulps. “Now, what is your name?”
“Korben,” the boy responded shyly.
“Where are your parents?”
“My papa died.”
Jarak figured that his mother was not around for whatever reason. “Do you have anywhere to go?”
“Jarak,” Rath said. “There are many kids like this in the Stye. We can’t help them all.”
Again, Jarak ignored him. “Korben, my name is Jarak and I’m going to give you something. Then I am going to give you a quest. Do you know what a quest is?”
Korben shook his head no.
“It’s like an adventure…do you know what that is?” This time Korben nodded his head. “Good. I’m going to give you this ring,” he said as he took off his gold ring.
“Jarak, you can’t give him your signet ring,” Rath quickly added. His signet ring bore the symbol of House Dormath and represented great power and wealth. The gold and jewel value of the ring alone was quite large, but the real value came from the fact that whoever held it had the full backing of House Dormath.
This time Jarak did acknowledge him, turning to face Rath with a steely gaze. “I can, and I will.” Then he turned back to Korben. “Now, this ring is very valuable but you can’t sell it. I want you to go to the temple at the end of Main Street and ask for a man named Toth. Give him this ring and tell him that Prince Jarak has ordered that you be housed, bathed, and fed. He will take care of you. Do you understand?”
Korben nodded his head quickly, looking at the gold ring with open amazement. “I understand.”
“Good. Now repeat back to me your quest.”
“I am to take your ring and go to the temple at the end of Main Street. Once there I need to find a man named Toth and give him your ring.”
“And?” Jarak coaxed.
“And tell him that you ordered him to take care of me,” Korben answered quickly.
“Very good. Now, you must do what I say. If you sell this ring I will know and you will be in a lot of trouble. Do you believe me?”
Korben nodded his head vigorously.
“Good.” Jarak handed the young boy the ring and stood up. “Now be off with you and make haste.”
Korben smiled for the first time, jumped up and ran out of the alley.
“Do you think he will sell the ring?” Rath asked.
“No. He wouldn’t even know where to sell it. I think he will do as instructed.”
“That was very kind of you.”
Jarak winked at him. “Don’t tell anyone. They might think I’ve grown soft.”
“And what is wrong with that?” Rath asked as they moved back out to the street.
“Women, my friend, are not attracted to soft men.”
Rath shook his head. “Are all your actions rooted in the desire to swoon women?”
“Why of course, I should think that would be obvious by now.”
They continued their casual banter, eating most of their remaining treats in the process. It wasn’t long before they were standing at the entrance to the Black Cat. The entrance was located down a side alley lit with four torches attached to brackets on the narrow walls facing the door. The thick oak door was painted a deep red, and standing before it was a large man in black leather, with a gray wool cloak draping his broad shoulders, and a long sword dangling from his hip. His unusually large head was shaved clean, revealing two prominent scars, one that went from his left eye to the top of his skull, while the second one crossed perpendicularly over the first, where it ended at his right ear. He would have looked formidable enough without the scars, but with them he looked downright frightening. Which was probably the point, Jarak assumed.
“Banrigar, it is good to see you,” Jarak announced.
The big man smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew the prince should not be there. “My Prince, what can I do for you?” The gossip was that Banrigar was a brawler from Hagstead, a large coastal town in the Kingdom of Karak far south and west of Dy’ain. The word was that he was a killer, and Jarak had to admit that he looked the part. But he had always been civil to Jarak, perhaps because he
was the prince, or maybe the rumors were untrue. Either way, Jarak had to admit that he liked the man.
This time it was Jarak’s turn to smile. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
“If the king finds out I let you in,” Banrigar said nervously, “there will be no end to my punishment.”
“Perhaps this will help,” Jarak said as he held out two gold dracks. Jarak knew that that was more coin than Banrigar would make in a week, and he topped off the deal with another incentive. “And you can have my last two pastries.”
They had played this game before, and Banrigar’s knowing smile suggested he was not yet done bartering. “What of your friend? Rath, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Rath said, looking to Jarak, knowing full well that the negotiations were not quite done.
Jarak reached into his coin purse, withdrew a silver shike and handed it to the guard. “I think a silver shall cover my friend.”
Banrigar took the coin and stepped aside, opening the heavy oak door. “Have fun, gentlemen. And Jarak, please stay out of trouble. If the king knows you are here I’m afraid we will all feel his wrath.”
“Yes, Mother,” Jarak scoffed as they entered the building.
The Black Cat was a typical establishment that offered various forms of entertainment. One could consume exotic drinks created from the many different fruits that grew in the various regions of Corvell. One could also taste the exotic flesh of these lands as well. Not literally of course, but there were in fact many beautiful women from all over Corvell, and even a few from Belorth, that if one were so inclined, and had the coin, could enjoy a delightful evening with any one of them.
The Steel Lord: Book 01 - BannerFall Page 7
