The Wind Riders

by Kris Kramer

  Chapter 6 - Old Friends

  A wide, dirt road stretched out before the six of them, leading from the gates straight through the city to the Trade Market at the center of town. Known as Dyfin Way, this road was the hub of most traffic into, out of, or through the city. Throngs of people filled the street, as far as the eye could see, everyone moving past hawkers and merchant stalls on the side of the road, or around horses, mules and wagons in the middle. Most Tyrans dressed in the same style of clothing, men wearing sleeveless tunics with calf-length trousers and women in long, sleeveless dresses with very thin shawls, most of it colored in light shades of brown, orange or green. The effect created a river of muted colors that mirrored the land around them, with only occasional striking colors mixed in.

  Iago led his five companions to a crossroads a few dozen yards ahead and stopped, considering his new route now that they’d made it inside.

  “So now what, Cap’n?” Hal asked.

  “Now we find a place to stay.” Iago took the path to his left. “This way.” The others followed in a tight line, weaving through the crowd, which moved in the opposite direction. The buildings on either side of the street were small and jammed together, an unruly mix of homes, shops, bakeries or craft stores with tables out front for selling wares or food. They passed a few open-air buildings, with no street-side outer walls, used as pens, forges or smiths. One concerned itself primarily with weaponry, based on the large array of swords, maces, axes and spears displayed on the back wall. Another conveyed a wider variety of products, with two of the blacksmiths inside working on hitches and rims for horse-drawn carts, along with other, unrecognizable items.

  Iago kept his hood up, and his head down, careful to avoid too much attention. He looked straight ahead, avoiding eye contact, something that wasn’t too difficult since Tyrans weren't known for their cordiality. They were in Ohvro, the smallest of the city’s five districts. It stretched from the main outer gates all the way down the road to the inner gates of the Old City, and extended several blocks east and west of Dyfin Way. Ohvro was mostly a market area, where most of the merchants and artisans in town set up shop to catch visitors to the city. The Trade Market, a large market center full of shops and goods, was located in a town square found outside the gates to the Old City, the walled center of Tyr where the Clerics resided. The Tyran Trade Market was renowned throughout the Valley for having nearly every possible item and service you could imagine for sale, no matter how obscure, as long as you knew whom to ask. Those who'd been there never really disputed that claim.

  Once they reached the Avis district, though, which would be shortly, they would see a noticeable difference in the upkeep of the buildings and the quality of people. The Avis district was a haven for all manner of scoundrels in the steppes, including bounty hunters, assassins, thieves and murderers. The Cleric-Major of the Avis district was a man named Maibro, a short, fat, troll of a man who cared for his money and nothing else. He’d run the Avis district like his own personal whorehouse for almost forty years now, overlooking criminal actions as long as he got something out of it. As a result, Avis provided a certain bit of protection the others didn’t, if you could afford it.

  The crowd of people steadily thinned out, the stragglers moving from shop to shop, buying what they needed, and then heading the opposite direction from Avis, towards Gotan, on the other side of Ohvro. Gotan was filled with sprawling neighborhoods of small houses stacked next to and on top of each other. Despite its overcrowded nature, however, Gotan provided a much better depiction of Anzarin life than the settlements outside, or the refugees huddled around fires, or even the city of rogues that Avis had become.

  A guard station appeared ahead of them, on the left side of the road. A small, stout barracks stretched from the road all the way back to the outer wall, where a wooden staircase gave the guards access to the top of the walls. Four guards waited outside, two sitting on a bench, and the other two lounging on the ground on either side. They chatted casually, barely paying attention to anything or anyone, although every so often they glanced up and down the street, making sure no one important caught them in their idle state. That guard station marked the border between Ohvro and Avis, not only physically, but symbolically. The guards here cared little about what happened on the other side of that line.

  As they moved past the guards and into Avis, the atmosphere almost immediately became different. There were no more merchants hawking wares along the street, or kids running alongside their parents. The sun had set over the top edge of the walls long before they entered the city, and wide shadows stretched across the street and buildings, making dark corners seem even darker. Old homes filled the outer edges of Avis, with inns, warehouses, and taverns scattered about. Farther in, though, the taverns became more frequent and seedier. Avis did have a small market center, located deeper in the district, and the wares there were similar to anywhere else - the only difference being the heavier focus on unadvertised services.

  Almost every alleyway they passed held some sign of life, though, either dogs, rats, beggars sleeping on the street, small groups of people conversing away from prying ears, or some just waiting around. One alley in particular caught Iago’s attention as three men stood at the entrance, wearing dusty black clothes that stood out markedly against the earthy Anzarin fashions. They all seemed short in comparison with Anzarin men, and wore their black hair long and unkempt, with similarly long black beards. Their faces were pale, punctuated by dark eyes, and they each had a long dagger sheathed prominently in their belts. It wasn't their appearance that caught Iago’s attention, however - he saw strange people in town every time he visited. What he noticed was how intently they seemed to be watching him and his group. He almost wondered if they were thieves looking for easy prey, and as they passed by, he chanced a look behind him, still covering his face as best he could with the hood of his cloak. When he looked back, though, they had disappeared back into the alley.

  Iago chuckled to himself. They would be surprised if they tried anything on this group, and he almost welcomed the chance. He felt like he needed some sort of action to cover his unease, but then he cautioned himself, knowing that same urge had been the source of plenty of his prior troubles in this city. He’d never been at home here, and he was smart enough to know that’s why he usually felt anxious on these streets. But today he knew better. A fight would invite attention they didn’t need. Best to just find an inn, conduct their business and leave.

  A short walk later and he finally reached his destination – an inn called The Major’s Reward. The Reward was a decent sized place, two-story, and built of faded grey wood with a stable around the corner. Iago knew the barkeep, Eurbie, from some time ago, so he felt comfortable coming here first. He wasn’t ready to trust his life to the man, but he at least considered Eurbie to be honest, and he owed Iago a favor. They walked through the open door and into the common room of the inn. Tables of all sizes were scattered about, most of them at least half full of people talking, laughing, drinking or arguing. A bar covered the entire right wall of the room, a young man busily pouring drinks behind it, then handing them off to the serving maidens. Iago didn’t recognize this barkeep; Eurbie was much older and fatter, so he decided to grab a table and wait to see if he showed up. Iago led the way through the maze of tables toward the back corner and found an empty one that would serve them just fine.

  “We’ll eat here and rest a bit. I don’t know if we should stay the night, though,” Iago said over the din of thirty other conversations in the room. The others nodded and sat down, eager to get off their feet. Jonir waved a barmaid over who held up her hand, implying she would be a moment before she got there.

  They’d barely settled into their seats before a very short, very thin man approached their table from the other side of the room. He had a long, gaunt face with a sloping forehead and a large, protruding, beak-shaped nose. His hair was long and white, and hung straight back. He did not look human.
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  “Great,” Iago groaned, curling his lips at the newcomer, “a ratman.”

  The man cocked his head at Iago, “I am Liren, Anzarin, and I have a name. Perhaps you would care to use it instead of throwing insults around at people you do not know.” The Liren’s shrill voice and accent made it hard to tell if he was put off by Iago’s remark.

  “Your people deserve every ill remark you get,” Iago said.

  The Liren considered that for a moment. “Perhaps I am different.”

  “Perhaps you should leave. Lirens are nothing more than liars and thieves.” Iago leaned forward. “I have never had an honorable dealing with a ratman.”

  It was tough to be sure, but from the look on his face the Liren almost seemed amused. “Anzarins are not known for their kindness and generosity either, but you do not see me assuming that to be true of you as well. Maybe, since I am giving you the benefit of my doubt, you could give me the benefit of yours, before belittling the name of my people and my honor to your companions here.” The Liren pointed back and forth to himself and Iago with fingers so thin a strong wind might break them. Iago leaned back and shook his head, looking around the common room, not even interested in discussing things further.

  Galen leaned in now, “What is your name and what is it you wish to offer us?”

  The Liren’s face brightened “Ahhh, a reasonable man. Perhaps it is because you seem to be Assarin and not Anzarin that you do not judge before hearing my proposal. My name is Ilem, and I can see you have come from some distance to reach Tyr. I would like to be your guide in this great city, and to help you with anything you may need.”

  Iago interjected, “Everything he can provide would be illegal and dangerous.”

  “Nonsense, faithless Anzarin.” The Liren hissed. “How long would I be in business here if I dealt with anything that was illegal or dangerous?”

  “You would be surprised how many people I know here who deal in your trade, ratman, and have done so longer than I’ve been alive.”

  Ilem suddenly became cautious. “Who is it you claim to know Anzarin? Or do you speak large?”

  Everyone remained quiet for a moment, until Hal broke the silence.

  “Speak large?” he asked, more to Iago than to the Liren.

  “It means to lie, which I’m not.” Iago stared back at Ilem defiantly.

  “What trade do you deal in, Ilem?” Galen asked.

  “A little of everything, Assarin. I can get you women, fighters in the Pits, the smoking weeds,” Ilem turned to Iago, “none of which are illegal or dangerous. And I can certainly offer better prices than any of your friends, Anzarin.” Ilem turned back to Galen. “Perhaps you know that before the breaking of our nations the people of Lir and Assar once traded honorably.”

  “Women?” Hal asked.

  Jonir shook his head, “Not the type you want, Hal, or could afford.”

  “You sell women and men? Are you a slave trader?” Galen asked, no longer amused by this exchange.

  “No, I am not a slaver, but I can offer good deals from them. There are many in the city who trust me.”

  “We have no need for a guide,” Iago said. “I know the city.”

  The Liren paused for a moment, glancing at the others but finding no help from them. “So be it, Anzarin. Have an excellent stay and remember me should you find yourself in need.” The Liren’s smile as he turned and walked away seemed more like a smirk to Iago.

  “What was that about?” asked Galen.

  Iago waited a moment, watching Ilem walk back to the other side of the room. “We don’t need a Liren anywhere near us unless you want your clothes stolen right off your backs. They’re liars and cheats, and all of you would do well to avoid them.” Iago frowned.

  “Surely they’re not all bad,” Hal said, smiling.

  “They eavesdrop, they gossip like old women, and they’ve turned thievery into an art. No good can come from dealings with any you find in Avis. Even with the ones in the Market you must be careful. In fact, I’d check your belongings right now, just to be sure.”

  “Good eve, gentlemen.” The arrival of the barmaid interrupted everyone’s sudden unease. She was an older woman, Anzarin, probably around her fortieth year, with long, dark hair hanging straight down her back. She looked like she had little time to deal with the six of them right now. “What do you need tonight?”

  “Women,” Hal said, eliciting a laugh from Saalis and Jonir.

  Iago shook his head. “A round of ales for the table, and some dinner if we can.” The barmaid almost walked off before Iago stopped her. “Is Eurbie around tonight?”

  “He’s been gone a few days now, sire. Last I was told he went north for a couple weeks.” Iago nodded and she left. He wondered what business Eurbie could possibly have out of Tyr. He never left the city the whole time he’d known him. This could be a small problem, because now he’d have to work his way down the list of people he could reliably approach, a list that was unfortunately very short. He sighed. He would have to take risks, now.

  “Who is Eurbie?” asked Hal.

  “An old friend of mine. I came here thinking he could help us,” Iago said, tapping the table in thought.

  “Apparently not,” Galen replied. “Who else can we go to?”

  “I still have people I can talk to. I just need to be careful about it. We shouldn’t discuss it here, though.”

  They said nothing more about their mission that night. Dinner and ales were served, and they ate and drank enough to make up for the rigors of their trip and then some. Eventually Iago told Galen they could stay here tonight, but it would be best to find a new place in the morning. Staying in one place too long would invite people to notice them.

  After Galen and Iago spoke with the Barkeep about lodgings, the six of them went to the back to three rooms. Galen and Margis took the first room, Hal and Jonir the second, and Iago and Saalis the last. They entered their small rooms and found two beds set up on either wall. Saalis dropped his bags and almost fell down into his bed, ready to sleep for days. Iago was more deliberate. He set his bag down but kept his cloak on and his sword close.

  “I’ll be out a bit. I’m not sure how long.”

  “You need me to come?” asked Saalis.

  Iago shook his head. “I need to find someone. If anyone else is with me when I do, he might get scared off.”

  Saalis nodded. “How long should I wait?”

  “Go to sleep. I may be a while.” Iago rummaged through his pack, finding a few coins. He pocketed them, and threw his hood back over his head. “But if I’m not back by morning, get the others and leave this inn, and the city for that matter.”

  “Aye.” The fatigue left Saalis’ face, replaced by obvious unease. “Be careful, Captain.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Iago said as he left the room. He walked back down the hallway and into the common room. He kept his head low as always, hoping no one here thought to watch him too closely. He stepped out on the street and looked around in the darkness. The only light came from torches outside the inns and a few in posts placed every fifty or so paces. Iago pulled back his hood a bit, confident he could walk around in the dark without worrying too much about being recognized. He would be spending his time in the back alleys anyway, looking for the one other person who could help him and his friends.