by M. R. Forbes
Talon swept his eyes across it, taking it all in. He expected his memories of the place to return, for his mind to take him to another time in the history of the town. There was nothing. Had he never been here before?
"I didn't expect them to be so large," Wilem said, pointing past the town, to where the raised deck of a barge could be seen. The ships were big and slow, flat-bottomed to draw smaller drafts, and propelled by large teams of oarsmen that filled the lower deck. The one he was pointing at was larger than most, taking up the entire length of one of the docks and painted in garish colors.
"They aren't usually," Talon said. The barge must have belonged to someone of great wealth.
"That's the private barge of Curio Fastre," Gerland said, bringing his wagon to a stop behind them. The large man pulled himself down and approached them on foot. He patted their horses on the muzzle when he reached them. "He owns most of the barges that move through the Gorges. If you're looking for transport to Kregin, he's the one you should see. I need to make a delivery on that boat in a few hours. I can introduce you if you want."
"You would do that for us?" Talon asked.
"Why not? You want to get your boy to Edgewater, and he's sure to have a barge going there, even if it isn't that one." Gerland's smile was wide. Dark spaces filled in for missing teeth that the brewer had said were due to too much sampling of his product. "Besides, I'm robbing you on the horses, it's the least I can do. Don't think Curio isn't going to bleed you dry on cost for the passage. I wouldn't be surprised if you wind up rowing."
He turned back towards his wagon. "Hugh, get my coin purse," he said, calling back to his son.
Hugh was Wilem's age; a larger and more strapping boy than the Mediator could ever hope to be. His eyes had betrayed his jealousy when he had heard Wilem was going to try out for the army, and it was obvious he wasn't thrilled with his future as the brewer of mead.
"Here you go, Pa," he said, handing the large, heavy purse to his father. Gerland opened it and picked out a handful of coins. He handed them over to Talon.
"Four hundred, as agreed," Gerland said. "I could get four-fifty to sell them as meat, and these are clearly from good stock. You sure about this?"
Talon nodded, dropping the coins into his pocket. He'd distracted the guard at the gate enough that he hadn't noticed the mounts were almost too good. He didn't want to push his luck. "I'm sure."
"Have it your way. That shack over there is called the 'Gullet in the Gorge'. You can leave them there, and if you wait for me, I'll bring you to Curio once I'm done with my other deliveries." Gerland was pointing at the inn near the river. "The Willow is the place right next to it, if you want to get your boy a treat." He laughed. "Heard you talking to the guard."
"You heard that?"
Gerland smiled and put his hand to his ear. "Always had good hearing. It's a blessing and a curse, believe me. Come on, Hugh, let's get these other deliveries done so we'll have time to stop by the Willow ourselves before we head back to your ma."
Hugh's face turned red, but he nodded his agreement. Gerland returned to his wagon, lifting his bulk up onto it and urging the horses ahead. Talon watched him for a few heartbeats, and then urged his horse forward, leading it towards the inn.
"It will be nice to get some fresh meat, though I wish Eryn were here to share it with," Wilem said, riding alongside him. "I miss her."
"I miss her, too, but she's in good hands. The Overlord will keep her safe."
"You're certain you can trust her?"
"Do you think I would have sent Eryn to Varrow if I didn't?"
Wilem's eyes dropped to the ground in front of the horse. "Of course not. I'm sorry. I spend so much time worrying about her."
He was silent for a moment, and then he raised his head and looked across at Talon.
"You were joking about bringing me to the Willow, weren't you?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Talon
The Gullet in the Gorge was quiet.
The Willow was not.
Talon and Wilem sat in the common room of the inn. Two cleaned plates rested on the table in front of them and mugs of Gerland's mead sat beside the plates. There were only a half dozen other diners in the room, mostly sailors, identified by their heavily muscled bodies and sleeveless white shirts. Oarsmen. They ate in silence, downing their plates in minutes, downing their mead even faster, eager to move from this establishment to the other.
They could hear the laughter and music from the Willow. The deep throated roaring of men and the high-pitched giggling of the girls, along with the strumming of a mandolin and a pair of raucous voices singing rowdy songs. Every so often, a pair would arrive back at the Gullet and make their way up a wide staircase to the rooms above.
It didn't seem to Talon that the brothel needed the guard convincing others to visit.
"Is it always like this?" Talon asked. Their serving girl was ten years old, thin and pretty.
"Pretty much, my Lord," she said. "We'll get busy for an hour or two when a barge first makes shore, but the sailors are always quick to eat and be on to the Willow. I don't know where they find their strength, after rowing all day. My sis Wila works over there, and she says a lot of them don't. She says she usually has to do all the work, and most of them fall right to sleep. She says it's the easiest money she ever made." She laughed while she picked up their empty plates. "Me, I'm happy to work the tables. The money isn't as good, but it's quiet, and Wila's come away with bruises on more than one occasion. Men? No thank you. Another ale?"
Talon looked down at his cup. It was the first drink he had allowed himself since his memories began to return. Before, he had been afraid of falling back into his drunken state, of losing himself once more. He knew now it was the magic that had created his addiction, not his own weakness, and he found that while the taste of the mead was enjoyable, his desire for it was lacking.
"No, thank you."
"I'll have another," Wilem said.
The girl made to take his mug for a refill. Talon put his hand gently on her wrist. "He's had enough," he said.
"Tal-"
Talon's eyes raked over him, and he reconsidered.
"I changed my mind," Wilem said. "I'll just finish what I have."
The girl took her hand away and vanished with the plates.
The door to the inn opened. Talon was sitting to face it, to be able to react should someone point them out to the other soldiers in town and start making accusations. He watched calmly when Gerland walked in, a barrel of mead on his shoulder, Hugh trailing behind him with another barrel. He didn't slow or acknowledge them on his way to the back, almost crashing into the girl on his way by.
"Watch yourself, Ilsie," he said, bouncing aside to avoid the girl. She ducked back out of the way with a laugh.
"My apologies, Master Gerland." She watched them go by, shifting her legs and jutting out her hip as Hugh passed. "Hi, Hugh." She smiled at him, doing her best to copy what she had seen at the brothel. He gave her a slight nod, his expression showing that her efforts were for nothing.
Men, indeed.
Talon smiled to himself and downed the last of his mead. She was a bit young for the brewer's son, at least right now, but that didn't stop her from following him back into the kitchen.
He could hear the thump of the barrels in the back, and then Gerland's voice mixing with an older woman. They haggled on the price of the barrels while Hugh came out and pulled up a chair next to them.
"It's always the same thing," he said. "She says a hundred for a barrel before we leave, and then fifty when we come back. They always settle on eighty, but they have to argue about it first."
It reminded Talon of Alyssa. She was just as spirited, always wanting to have the last word.
I loved you too much not to let you.
"Hugh, what can you tell me about Curio Fastre?" Talon asked.
The boy shrugged. "His private barge goes up and down the Gorges, never making shore for more than a da
y at a time. He comes to Fulton every couple of weeks to restock. He always pays a hundred, never argues on price. Oh, and I heard he collects things."
"Collects things?" Talon asked. "What kinds of things?"
"Anything that's rare and valuable. I don't know what kind of things that would be. There isn't anything rare or valuable in Fulton."
"Books? Coins? Things that other people have dug up?" The idea was piquing his curiosity, even if he doubted it would come to anything. Jeremiah would have had the man killed already if he knew he had anything from before.
If he knew.
"I don't know," Hugh said. His face began to turn red. "I... I also know he has a daughter. I've heard the sailors say she's the most beautiful girl in all of the Empire."
"What does she look like?" Wilem asked.
"I only saw her once, from a distance. Her hair is long and black and shines like silver in the moonlight. Her skin is the color of the finest mead. She has purple eyes, and her body makes men weep. At least, that is what the sailors say."
"She doesn't sound as pretty as Er-"
Talon coughed, loud enough that Wilem stopped talking. He would have to be more careful in the future about letting the boy drink. It gave him too loose of a tongue.
Gerland had finished arguing with the innkeeper, and he came over and stood next to their table. "Eighty, as usual," he said to Hugh with a smirk.
"I don't know why you don't just agree to eighty for next time."
"And have her nag me down to sixty? That's not good business." He turned to Talon. "I'm heading off to Curio's barge. Do you still want to meet him?"
Talon nodded. "Hugh was telling me he collects things. Do you have any idea what?"
"I heard that, too. I don't know. Most times, I drop off the mead and go. Every once in a while we'll talk for a few minutes. He never mentioned a collection of anything. Guess you'll have to ask him yourself."
"I guess I will."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Talon
There was a burly sailor guarding the wide plank up from the dock to the deck of Curio's barge. He was dark-skinned, with a bald head and deep eyes, shirtless and sweating in the cool of the night. He smiled when Gerland stopped his wagon at the end of the gangway and hopped down.
Talon and Wilem had gathered their things and walked behind them, Talon holding a small sack with their remaining food over his shoulder and Wilem carrying the staff he had taken from Mediator Canlin.
The dark man lost his smile when he saw them.
"What is this?" he asked Gerland. He had a heavy accent that Talon didn't recognize.
"Friends of mine," Gerland replied. "A merchant and his son. They want to buy passage on one of your master's barges, down to Kregin Town."
He ran his eyes over them. "Curio doesn't sell passage for people."
Talon stepped forward, coming to stand next to the brewer. "I believe if I can speak with him, he may change his mind." He didn't know if that was true or not, but he wouldn't be able to find out if the guard wouldn't let him aboard.
The man clapped his hands together, and another sailor appeared on the deck. He had the same skin tone but was younger, small and wiry.
"Abeleth, go to Master Curio. Ask him if he wants to talk to a stranger. To sell passage."
"Yes, Dal," Abeleth said. He scurried away.
"If Curio says it's okay, then it's okay." He crossed his arms and stood in front of the ship. They would wait for his reply.
Abeleth returned a minute later, a girl walking beside him. She was sixteen or seventeen, with a narrow face, large, purple eyes, small nose, and full lips, framed by a head of silken hair that dropped behind her hourglass figure. She wore a tight leather vest that kept her modest while leaving her midriff exposed, along with light cloth pants that bunched near the waist, and flowed in the breeze that moved along the river. She wore golden slippers on her feet and almost appeared to float towards them.
Most beautiful woman in the Empire. It may be true.
"Delia," the man said. "Where is your father?"
She stopped at the edge of the deck and looked down at them. Her eyes passed quickly over Gerland, Hugh, and Wilem. They lingered on Talon.
"Send them up," she said, turning on her heel and walking away. Her voice was as pretty as her appearance.
"That was odd," Gerland said with a laugh, as Dal stepped aside. He retreated back to the wagon to heft one of the few remaining barrels from it. Hugh took a second, and they carried them up onto the deck.
Talon and Wilem followed behind. Only once they were on the deck of the barge did they truly appreciate the size of it. Two hundred feet long, at least, with tall quarterdecks both fore and aft. The decks had large stained glass windows that had been fitted to hinges so that they could open and close, and lights from within framed them in a manner that Talon found fascinating. The main deck itself was a dark, polished wood, spotless and scented, and bathed in cool light by hanging oil lamps. Stairwells ran along near the rails at twenty foot intervals, quick access to the oar decks.
"She's a beauty, isn't she," Abeleth said.
"She is," Wilem agreed.
Talon glanced over at him, noticing his eyes were looking off in the direction the girl, Delia, had gone. Was he referring to the ship or Curio's daughter?
They trailed behind Gerland until they reached the aft quarterdeck. Another sailor was waiting for Gerland there, and he directed him down a wider set of stairs towards the ship's hold.
"I'll take you to my father," Delia said. She was standing in the shadows, hidden so well that Talon hadn't known she was there. Wilem jumped at the sound of her voice, which drew a mischievous smile from her. "He's eager to meet you, Silas."
Talon kept himself calm, though he instantly became more alert. "You know who I am?"
"I knew the moment I saw you. Who else would be seeking passage to Kregin Town from Fulton, instead of taking the Bridge?" She glanced over at Wilem. "I didn't realize your companion was a boy."
Wilem's face turned red when she looked at him. It turned a deeper crimson at the suggestion that he was the one they called the Whore.
"I have more than one companion," Talon said. "If you would, my true name is Talon. General Talon Rast."
She bowed her head to him. "You are well met, General Rast. Have no fear, my father has no interest in the affairs of the Empire, save one."
"Then why is he eager to meet me?" Talon asked. He wasn't ready to relax just yet.
"He is a collector of curiosities and valuables. That includes stories, and yours is both curious and valuable." She waved her hand towards a polished wooden door. "Please, follow me."
She led them through the door and up a staircase, her hips swaying rhythmically ahead of them, the flow of her pants lending to the effect. Talon was unimpressed by the display, but when he looked back at Wilem, he saw the Mediator's eyes had settled on her shapely backside.
At least until he noticed Talon was looking. He smiled sheepishly and lowered his eyes.
"What types of valuables does your father collect?" Talon asked.
"All kinds of things. Dal, for example."
"Dal?" Wilem said.
She turned her head to look back at him, and he had to hurry to lift his eyes again. "He and Abeleth are from an island west of Portsmouth. An island of savages. My father brought a ship there and purchased him in exchange of a large, black crystal. He taught him to speak and read and write."
Ebocite?
Talon had never heard of an island west of Portsmouth. Did Jeremiah know it was there? "Why did they want the crystal?" he asked.
"I don't know. You would have to ask my father."
She brought them to the top floor of the deck, and through a pair of ornate doors with large stained glass windows in them. Curio was waiting for them, leaning back in an upholstered chair, smoking a long stick of sacha. A couch sat near the window, with a short table between them.
An older man, he had olive
skin, thick salt and pepper hair, a heavy mustache, blue eyes, and an angled jaw. He was dressed in a bright yellow shirt and orange breeches that matched the style of his daughter's, and when he stood to greet them, he was poised and confident.
"The infamous Silas Morningstar," Curio said, holding out his hand. "I am Curio Fastre. It is an honor to have you aboard the Delia."
It was impossible not to notice that he had named the boat after his daughter or his daughter after the boat.
Talon took the man's hand and shook.
Curio turned to Wilem. "And you are?"
"Wilem," he said.
"Just Wilem?" Curio asked with a laugh, his eyes on the wrapped staff. "Somehow, I doubt that."
"I was a Mediator," Wilem said. "I'm Cursed."
Curio pursed his lips. "Interesting." He turned back to Talon. "You're paying me, and I haven't even sold you anything yet."
"But you will?" Talon asked.
"I can offer you safe transport to Kregin Town on the Delia, and protection from the soldiers when you get there."
"How can you protect us from the soldiers?"
He smiled. "I have my ways."
"Name your price."
"I want to know everything."
"What do you mean, everything?"
Curio smiled and regained his seat. "Everything you know. The monster that is terrorizing its way to the east, for example."
"Why do you think I know anything about that?"
"A coincidence that such a beast appears shortly after the entire Empire goes on high alert to capture you? I think not." He motioned to the couch. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."
