by Travis Kerr
"That's just one example in a long line of atrocities committed by the mages. People might think that I'm an evil person; they might even be right, considering what I do for a living, but my crimes don't begin to compare with what those mages have done."
"How old were Goldstone's children?"
"According to the story his son, the elder of the two, would have been about thirteen. His sister was perhaps two years younger."
Roland wanted to know more, but could see that his companion didn't want to go on any further.
Perhaps the story is something close enough to Malik's own hidden past to dredge up memories he feels are best left forgotten, Roland surmised.
Certainly it seemed that he had some personal grudge with the mages, though the man said so little about his past that there was no way to know what the reason for that animosity might be.
He had even told Roland to hide his past.
Those things left behind in your past, family and friends, could be used against you by your enemies.
Roland recalled that lesson well. It was the very reason he had decided to change his identity.
After the two had walked for nearly a half an hour Roland noticed that the buildings they passed were no longer the same as those he had seen when they first entered. Newer buildings of wooden construction, many of them recently painted, took the place of the dilapidated husks found in the old city. The buildings were set up in a squared, grid-like pattern, with streets spaced roughly at regular intervals.
Some streets seemed to be designated as merchants shops, while others seemed to be domiciles for the people who lived in the city. The homes in this part of the city seemed to be set up for the low income residents. Roland wondered where the richer part of the city might be located.
Probably no where near the main roads, he thought.
Lights were just starting to be lit, in preparation for the coming dark. Directly ahead of them to the west the setting sun blazed a brilliant crimson along the edge of the horizon. Young boys with torches ran down the streets, sporadically lighting small oil lamps placed at intervals along the main roads.
The sun had nearly disappeared completely before Malik finally stopped in front of a small, two story building painted a light blue. The sign above the white wooden door indicated that the occupant was an herbalist, though Roland thought that the building looked more like a home than a place of business.
Still, many people are said to work out of their homes, he recalled. Perhaps that was what this herbalist did.
"I thought you were going to your client tonight and that you were going to the market to sell your herbs tomorrow?"
Malik smiled. "This is the client," he answered. "I'll give him some of the herbs we gathered, mostly to give us a reason for being here. Our true business others would know nothing about. Tomorrow we'll be going to visit my gem dealer if I have the time."
He walked up and knocked rather softly on the door. Enough time went by that Roland began to wonder if whoever was inside hadn't heard the knock; it certainly wasn't very loud.
Is he really even home at all?
He was about to suggest that perhaps Malik should knock a little louder when the door opened, just a crack, and a white feathered face peered out at them. He looked at Malik for several seconds, and Roland could see the recognition in his eyes dawn before he spoke.
"Please, come in," the man said, stepping aside to allow them to pass. "We don't often get visitors this late, however in your case I can make an exception. Nice to see you again, Mr.?"
"Malik," he replied. Roland understood the exchange well enough to understand that the man knew at least enough about his companion to know that he didn't always travel under the same name, and was being careful not to refer to him under the wrong one. "My associate here is Roland. Roland, this is Lark."
The room they had entered was brightly lit, considerably brighter than it had been outside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light. The room was lightly furnished with small decorating tables, each holding a colorful vase filled with flowers, a different one for each table.
The walls were painted light blue, similar in color to that which painted the outside of the building.
As if to imitate the sky, Roland thought.
Only a few paintings decorated the walls, mostly paintings of flowers of every color imaginable. At the back of the room was a small counter. It was obvious to Roland that this was his place of business, however he suspected the rest of the building was also the man's home.
The man who stood before him was an avian, and every part of him appeared little different from the birds his race had originated from. His feathers were a bright white, covering every visible part of him save the palms of his hands and his long orange beak. Much longer feathers hung down along his exposed arms and connected all the way to his waist.
Roland had only heard of avians from his mother. Most of the avian species had retained the ability to fly. They frequently lived in places other races could not follow, high in the mountains or in the tops of trees in dense forests. Their hollow bones made them lighter than other races, which made them more vulnerable to assault. Because of this they generally stayed away from the rest of society, preferring their lofty, hidden homes. Roland had never expected to actually meet one.
"Who is it dear?" came a high, musical voice from one of the other rooms. A woman, another avian who looked almost identical to her husband though clearly feminine, glided gracefully from a doorway that led from the back of the building.
"You remember Malik, don't you love?" Lark said as she came in. It was clear the woman didn't recognize the name. When she saw Malik's face however recognition came quickly enough. "His friend here is named Roland. Roland, this is my wife Wren. Wren dear, perhaps you could bring us something cold to drink?"
She doesn't look like a wren at all, Roland thought, regardless of her name. They both resemble storks more than any other bird.
He was polite enough not to mention it. He didn't know anything about avian society, and didn't want to offend the couple accidentally.
In only a few moments she returned with four clay cups filled with a dark red liquid. Roland sipped his drink gingerly, expecting some sort of fermented wine, but was relieved to learn that the cups were filled with nothing more than berry juice. It had a light sweet taste that Roland didn’t recognize. The drink was pleasantly cool, though Roland didn't know how the couple might have chilled it.
"Please tell me sir," the woman said to Malik in a pleading voice as soon as the drinks were served. "What news do you have of my brother?"
"Darling, don't be rude to our guests," Lark admonished. "I'm certain they are weary from their journey."
"It's alright," Malik said quickly. "I would be the same way if I was in her position. First I must apologize. I traveled to Port Dayton as quickly as I could, but I'm afraid I was too late to save him. Prisons aren't kind to anyone, but they are particularly harsh on avians, who are meant to fly free."
"I understand," she said sadly. "I know you did everything you could. What about the trog that imprisoned him? Did you at least get revenge for what he did?"
Malik nodded. "I won't go into the details of that creature's demise. They would only serve to harm you more than the beast himself already has. It is enough to say that he is dead, as I promised. He won't harm another soul as he has harmed you and your family."
"Thank you," Wren cried through tear filled eyes. "Here is the coin I promised you. I know it's not much considering what you've done for me, but it's all I have to give. I know my brother would be glad that the beast won't hurt anyone else."
She reached underneath the small counter in the back of the room, retrieving a small leather bag from a hidden compartment concealed there. She tossed the bag to Malik, who caught it deftly. "You can count it if you like. It's all there."
Malik tested the weight of the bag in one hand. Opening it, he emptied the entire bag on the counter. I
n seconds he had split the coins into two separate piles. One pile he put back into the bag, then stepped away, leaving the other half.
"Keep that half for yourselves," He told the couple. "This is enough."
"I don't understand," Lark said in confusion. "We had agreed on two thousand. That was the price, whether you could get her brother back for her or not. Why do you want to change it now?"
"I never planned on taking your life savings from you. I knew before you hired me that two thousand was everything that you had. Paying to have a man killed isn't something that you can do arbitrarily. You have to be fully committed to it. I had to know that doing this was worth everything to you. Otherwise it wouldn't have been worth anything at all. This is more than enough payment, and it's helping far more people than you could ever realize. I wouldn't even take this money from you if I didn't have to. Unfortunately even I have expenses."
"As long as that monster is dead, it's worth everything I have," Wren replied solemnly.
"He's dead. I know that for certain," Roland told her, though he knew that Malik had wanted him to remain silent. "I was there when he died. He won't bother anyone else ever again."
For a moment Malik looked nervous about something, but seemed to relax when Roland finished. Roland didn't know what bothered him. Maybe Malik was just worried that he would say too much and upset the woman. He had noticed how his companion was very cautious about what he said about the trog's death.
With sudden clarity Roland realized that, while they might wish death on someone who deserved it as much as that trog had, it was completely different than knowing the intimate details of a murder, regardless of the reasoning. He had grown used to the idea only because he had been there when the deed was done.
"Where is that beautiful companion you were with the last time we saw you?" Wren asked unexpectedly, changing the subject. "Nothing has happened to her I hope."
"No, she's fine," Malik answered. "We will meet up with her again later on tonight. She wanted to send her greetings. She wished she could be here herself, but we are busy people after all. I'll tell her you asked about her when we get back."
Roland didn't remember Tara mentioning anything about it, but supposed that this was one of those times when it was best to stay quiet. There must have been a reason for Malik to lie to the avian woman after all, though he couldn't guess as to what it might be. There was too much going on here that he didn't know about; too much that he still needed to understand.
"You should stay with us tonight," Wren said seriously. "You're more than welcome to."
"I'm afraid we can't do that. We have some dangerous enemies after all, and I wouldn't want to take the risk that one of them might follow us here. I brought herbs to sell, so it would make sense for me to go to the buyer as soon as I get into town. How else would I pay for my room at the inn? This way you don't have to worry about us being followed back here somehow. I don't think that it would happen anyway, but I like to keep all of my bases covered. You wouldn't offer to put up one of your other suppliers, would you?"
The woman shook her head. Roland had to stifle a laugh. Malik had maneuvered the woman into agreeing with him, even though she had planned on acting completely differently. His companion had been doing the same thing to him, he realized, but found that he really didn't care. Malik convinced him to do what was best, even if it wasn't what he thought was the best thing to do at the time.
"As much as I would like to stay and talk longer, we really should be getting back to our companion," Malik said, putting his empty cup down on the counter next to the coins he had left there. "She'll be worried if we are too late."
The two men left the home and the two avians behind, Malik leading the way. By then the sun had faded away completely, however the streets were still bright and cheerful with merry light from the oil lamps that Roland recalled the young boys of the city lighting earlier. He wondered briefly how long the oil in the lamps would last.
Most likely they only put in enough oil to last until a certain time in the night, then they refill them again with more oil before the following night, he guessed.
He couldn't imagine how much oil they must go through each day, but he was certain that if he asked Malik he would be told that the mages charged far more than they paid for it.
It didn't take them long to reach the Gatortooth Inn, Malik expertly leading the way. Roland wasn't certain he would have found the place on his own.
These streets would be a maze in the middle of the day, he thought. The lights would only help a person if they knew where they were going to begin with.
To Roland, who had never been there before, each street looked no differently than the one before it. There were signs to mark the different streets, but that wouldn't help someone who wasn't familiar with those names.
He knew he had heard the name of that inn before. After searching his memory for several minutes he remembered where he had heard it. The smuggler they had passed on the road only a few days before had mentioned it. He had told them that the bartender could help them sell some of their less than legitimate wares.
"Are we going to talk to the bartender that the smuggler we met the other day told us about?" he asked Malik. "I don't remember what name he mentioned, but I know that this was the right inn."
"The smuggler's name was Carn. He never did tell us that bartender's name. It doesn't really matter. Even if we did have something for the man to help us sell, which we don't, we wouldn't want to talk to him about it anyway. Like I said before, smugglers don't give away real contacts. There's always a chance they could be competitors. If I was actually a smuggler, the last thing I would do is go to the man he suggested."
"Sorry, I forgot that," Roland said sheepishly.
"Don't worry about it," Malik said in an off-hand manner. "It's not really that important. It would only be necessary to remember it if you ever wanted to act the part of a smuggler as a false identity. You should never use a cover you can't pull off, and try to learn everything you can about the covers you want to use. The more believable your cover is, the less likely it is you'll be discovered."
"And by using more than one cover simultaneously most people won't look passed the first," Roland added, recalling the layers of Malik's own current cover.
"It helps," Malik grinned wolfishly.
The two found Tara seated in a corner table at the back of the bar room, her back up against the wall where she could see someone coming from any direction. Unlike the last time Roland saw her in an inn or when she encountered others on the road, her hood was down, her jet black fur and feline face clearly visible.
Roland looked around the rest of the room, peering into the deep shadows along the rafters, but he couldn't spot Trick anywhere. Either the dragonling wasn't in the room at all, or he was keeping himself well hidden. Two other customers were seated at a table closer to the front door. Roland noted them, but otherwise paid them no mind.
Surely Tara would give them some indication if the two might be dangerous, he believed.
"Trick is waiting in our room upstairs," Tara informed them before Roland had the chance to ask where their small companion might be. "We should probably bring him something to eat before too long. He hasn't eaten yet today, and he was acting a little peevish when I came down. I didn't close the window, so he could go out and take care of his needs, but we don't want him going out into the city looking for food and causing mischief."
"Does he do that sort of thing often?" Roland asked.
"Normally he's fairly well behaved," Malik answered. "However if he doesn't eat enough he might revert more toward his wild nature. Should that happen, he'll do whatever he has to in order to get food. Most likely that means nothing more than hunting a rat. Certainly no one would complain about that. He might also take food someone might have left out though, like meat hanging in a butcher's shop for instance, if it's easily available and he was hungry enough. We don't want any trouble with local butchers. Anything that d
raws attention to us is something we need to avoid. I'll go feed him now and come back down for dinner when I'm finished. He doesn't eat much so I shouldn't be gone long."
Tara wordlessly tossed him the keys to their room, leaving the two of them at the table. Roland disliked not being able to see behind him, a by-product of the training he had received from Tara and Malik he supposed, but he had little choice in the matter. Tara was already sitting in the corner of the table, and he thought it would look strange for them both to sit on the same side, leaving one side of the table empty. One of the last things that Malik had said had been that anything that draws attention to them was something to avoid.
Two people who both refused to turn their backs to the room would almost certainly draw attention, he suspected.
Before either of them had said a word a waitress came to take his order for dinner.
She’s probably younger than I am, he thought.
She had dark auburn hair that hung down passed her ample bosom, nearly even with her thin waist. Her bright green eyes, wide apart on her broad face, gleamed with merriment. She was dressed in a simple blue tunic that just barely covered her upper thighs. Roland's first thought was that the girl was quite beautiful, though he was too shy to consider telling her that.
"Hi, I'm Tammie. Your friend here was waiting for you before ordering. Can I bring you anything to drink while you decide what you would like to eat tonight?" The girl's hair bounced this way and that as she talked, completely distracting him. He shook his head slightly to clear it.
"I'll have a flagon of ale for now," he answered after a moment.
Roland watched as the girl bounded away, flipping her hair as she turned. He realized shamefully that it hadn't been her hair he was watching as she headed for the bar. Tara snickered loudly once the girl was out of earshot.
