The Narrowing Path: The Complete Trilogy (The Narrowing Path Series Book 4)

by David J Normoyle

  “You seem like a smart boy. You didn’t see anything yesterday that would make you question our sincerity in helping you?” Alandar asked. “Not everyone who asks for a loan gets one. And not everyone gets the same terms. We have to make money on you, young Bellanger. How do you plan to repay me?”

  “I beat the odds by surviving yesterday when all expected me to die. I can do it again. When the lists get updated, I won’t be at the bottom anymore.” Now that Bowe had survived the first day, he had to figure out how to prove his worth to the Guardians so he would have a chance. He was already far behind people like Zidel, Dulnato, and Reyanu. The Raines valued those who could make money, and for that Bowe would need capital. He also needed an idea to invest in, but one thing at a time.

  Alandar unsheathed his knife. The gemstones were only on the scabbard; the handle was polished bone, and the blade had a blueish tinge. He took a piece of parchment from his desk. “Do you know how sharp a knife has to be to slice through paper at the slightest touch?”

  “I’m going to take a wild guess and say very.”

  “No need to use a sarcastic tone. Do you know what a soul is?”

  Goosebumps ran up Bowe’s arms, and he suddenly wanted to be far away from this room. “I’ve heard talk of it.”

  Alandar began to cut a thin column from one end of the sheet of paper. There was a ripping sound as the blade sliced through the parchment. “Hear that sound? I like to imagine that it’s the sound of a soul screaming.” He cut another thin column, causing the same ripping sound.

  Bowe shivered.

  Alandar smiled. “I’ll tell you how we make money on these high-risk loans: we charge excessive interest rates. To repay in full, you may need to pay multiple times the amount of the initial loan. You pay in installments in case something untoward happens to you over the course of the loan. If there is money on you when you die, we’ll claim it. Obviously, if someone else gets there first, that might not work so well. So we endeavor to be first at the death of an in-arrears Green. Do you know how we do that?”

  “I can make a fair guess.” Bowe’s mouth was dry.

  Alandar’s smile widened and his eyes took on that same hypnotizing intensity that Bowe had first noticed in the square. “I knew you were a smart boy. We make being paid a very high priority. A Green behind on his repayments doesn’t last long. Can you believe that many refuse our kind offer of a loan? So how much are you looking for?”

  “How much are you offering?”

  “The maximum we’ve ever given a student was two golds, but that was an excepti—”

  “I’ll take two golds.” Bowe knew only one way to deal with fear: confronting it straight on.

  “Two golds is for someone who stands high in the lists, not for someone like you.”

  “Do you want to do business or not? I will not quibble over your rates. Give me the two golds.”

  “I like that, young Bellanger. That gumption. That spirit. That moxie. You’ll have your money. When you leave, the marshals will make a special note of you so they’ll be able to recognize you, should the need arise. I shall look forward to collecting.” Alandar put his ear next to the sheet of paper and cut another thin column from it.

  * * *

  Bowe paced back and forth in Veliro’s antechamber. He was getting tired of being kept waiting. He now had capital, but needed to invest it in some venture. Who better than the Lessards, the trading kings, to help him with that?

  A marshal watched him. Marshals wore a uniform in a lighter color than their house color. This meant that Lessard Green became mint-cream, Grenier scarlet became light pink, and Raine silver became silver-white. Bowe thought all the uniforms looked ridiculous. The most feared marshals wearing light pink—who thought that one up?

  After a while, the door opened and the marshal gestured for Bowe to enter the main chamber. Inside, Veliro sat on a large couch, sunk down so far that Bowe thought he’d need to be excavated before he could stand again.

  “So the last of the Bellangers,” Veliro said. “I’m glad I have a chance to meet you.”

  “Not as glad as I am, I can assure you.” Bowe poked himself. “I still have to double-check that I’m still alive.”

  Veliro reached out a chubby arm and retrieved a cream bun from a tray. Several plates of dessert lay within reach. The theme of the room was cushions. Small cushions, big cushions. Red cushions and blue. Patterned and plain. Cushions in the corner, cushions on the floor, cushions on top of cushions. Couches piled so high with cushions that a cushion mountain needed to be scaled before they could be used. Surprisingly, there were no cushions on the walls—only tapestries.

  “Nice place you have here.” Bowe squinted at the walls to check if there were pictures of cushions in the tapestries. “But it needs something soft and cuddly to take the edge off.”

  Veliro didn’t smile. “Not many Greens have come, despite the offer of help I made. Do you know why?”

  “Perhaps it was the slaughtering of a random boy in the square. Some are squeamish about that sort of thing.”

  “Always good to whittle away the squeamish. They have no place in the ascor.” Veliro took a bite of his bun, leaving dabs of cream around his mouth. He ate with his mouth open, and the sight of the cream and pastry churning inside that gaping maw made Bowe glad he had a strong stomach. “Before you ask for help from me, I must warn you: Lessards are traders; we deal in bargains. Greens who make bad bargains are taught a lesson.”

  “And lessons are not meant for the squeamish?”

  “Why not go to Alandar instead of me?” Veliro asked. “You lived with the Raines, after all.”

  “Alandar already gave me money.”

  “Let me guess: half a gold at two percent interest per day?”

  “Two golds at five percent per day.”

  The cream cake fell from Veliro’s hand and landed on the couch by his leg. He didn’t seem to notice. “Five percent? And you accepted? I guess the traders are not the only ones who punish Greens for making bad bargains. Alandar likes to draw out the punishment, of course. You have your money, so why did you come to me?”

  Bowe hesitated. He didn’t want to admit how clueless he was. But it was surely better to admit it now, at the start of the Path, than suffer for the ignorance later on. “I don’t know what to do with the money.”

  Veliro just looked at him. “I don’t know whether to laugh at you or feel sorry for you.” He reached for another pastry. “I suppose you’ve heard about your family’s last night? When you were found alive among the dead.”

  “In snippets.” He’d gotten the gist of it from various taunts down through the years.

  “You may not have heard this little detail: after the Bellanger family killed themselves, the three remaining Guardians walked through the Bellanger mansion. The old Lessard Guardian, Cenarro, wore a sapphire ring.”

  Bowe looked at Veliro blankly.

  “Helion’s fire, boy, do you know nothing about your family? The Bellanger color was—is—azure, and the family gemstone is a sapphire. Why did Cenarro show support for the Bellangers when the family wealth had just been destroyed and they’d killed themselves?”

  “I don’t know. Why?” Bowe knew that the Raine gemstone was a diamond, but he’d never thought to wonder about the Bellangers’.

  “No one knows. Or, if they do, they haven’t told me. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

  Bowe shook his head.

  Veliro sighed. “Cenarro is no longer with us, but I’m not inclined to interfere in a long-term scheme he may have planned. House Lessard probably isn’t going to go out of its way to hurt you. That mightn’t help you much, though, since it sounds like Alandar wants you all to himself.” Veliro paused to lick some cream from his fingers. Bowe hoped that he’d wipe the daubs from around his lips; it was hard to take Veliro seriously when he looked like that. “Now, you wanted some instruction. It’ll cost you. Are you willing to spend some of the gold that Alandar gave you?”<
br />
  Bowe didn’t have a better plan. The money owed was just going to multiply if he did nothing. If Veliro could give him some tips on how to wisely use it, he might have a chance. Some secrets that would help him invest the money. So he nodded.

  “Now, there’s twenty-five silvers in a gold, so you have fifty silvers total. What if I charged you twenty silvers?”

  Bowe didn’t have many options, but he knew he couldn’t do that. “I can’t pay you that much.”

  “Looking for a better deal, are we?” Veliro said. “Name your price.”

  “Two silvers.” Bowe could at least show Veliro he knew how to bargain.

  Veliro’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t kid around here. You need me more than I need the money. Shall we say fifteen?”

  “Four.”

  “Ten. These cakes don’t come cheap, you know.”

  “Five.” If you ate the other half instead of splattering it all over you, you might have to buy less.

  “Eight,” Veliro said. “I should be insulted at how low you are pricing my services.”

  “Six.”

  “Done.” Veliro held out his arm. Bowe had to lean all the way across him to clasp it. Veliro’s grip was strong. Once the deal was sealed, Veliro settled back into his couch, looking worryingly satisfied. “Now, there are three things I must tell you before you go.” Veliro rang a bell that had been hidden between two plates of cakes. Two marshals in mint-cream uniforms entered. “One: you must pay the six silvers on the way out. Two: the number of silvers in a gold changes with the price of the two metals and is currently only twenty silvers to a gold, so you were paying more than you thought. Three: never pay for something until you see what you are getting. Now get out.”

  Bowe felt woozy. What had just happened? “But you promised to teach me.”

  “I just did. Twenty silvers to a gold. Never pay for something until you see what you are getting. Whether my lessons are worth six silvers, only time will tell.”

  “So all that about the sapphire ring was a pile of ash?”

  “No, that was true. And be glad it is true, because Greens have left Lessard Mansion in a coffin for making better deals than you. Now leave, before I come to my senses.”

  * * *

  The two marshals left Bowe outside in the street feeling like a fool. The Lessard meeting had revealed him as an idiot twice over. Veliro made him realize what a bad bargain Bowe had made with Alandar, only to coax Bowe into making a worse one with him. Bowe walked towards the Fortress. He’d find the final mentor there. The sun had almost set, and an evening breeze brought some relief from the heat. The light hadn’t diminished much, just changed color as Helion took over from the sun in providing brightness.

  The Fortress was the Grenier mansion. It was built with black rock and was feared by the escay. Bowe hadn’t intended to go there before being dumped out of Lessard mansion for he was no warrior. Why would the warrior clan help him when the Raines, who had raised him, and the Lessards, who claimed they wouldn’t go out of their way to hurt him, had just left him worse off? But right now, he didn’t have much to lose.

  As he got closer, he heard the mingled shouts, screams, cheers and thuds that were suggestive of a full-scale riot. Bowe decided that visiting was a bad idea and had begun to turn around when he noticed that a side gate on one black wall was ajar. It was where the commotion was coming from. He’d peek in and then move on.

  A scream rang out, louder than the surrounding tumult. A scream of pain, and genuine fear. A scream that Bowe recognized. He squeezed through the gate and shoved through a circle of onlookers. Inside a training ring stood Dulnato, the scowling Grenier Green, with a sword in hand. At his feet lay Vitarr, whose own weapon lay beyond his reach. Vitarr was cut and bruised and curled into a ball.

  Dulnato raised his sword and slammed it into Vitarr’s ribs. The sword’s edge must have been blunted, or Vitarr would have been cut in half. Vitarr didn’t scream this time; he just jerked where he lay.

  Bowe knew that if he stepped into the training ring and picked up the sword, he’d just join Vitarr on the ground. He looked around frantically and spotted Drakasi watching. Bowe ran over and grabbed the mentor’s arm. “You have to stop this. He’s killing him!”

  Drakasi turned and glared at Bowe’s hand until Bowe snatched it away. “Lions survive / Insects die / The Path persists.”

  Bowe wanted to scream in frustration. Vitarr was about to die, and he was getting this poetry garbage. There was a sick noise as Dulnato landed another blow, this time on Vitarr’s arm. “I’ll give you two silvers to let him go,” Bowe said.

  “Dulnato, stop.” Drakasi held up his hand. Bowe was glad to know that the warrior could speak in something other than a three-line poem.

  Dulnato paused with his sword over his head. He glared down at Vitarr and didn’t seem inclined to follow the mentor’s orders.

  “You won’t last long in training with me if you can’t follow instructions,” Drakasi said.

  Dulnato growled and let his sword fall to his side.

  Drakasi turned back to Bowe. “Just because I have interrupted the fight, doesn’t mean I’m just going to let your friend go. Why should I? After his performance in the fighting ring, he deserves to die. You think I care that much about a few silvers?”

  Bowe searched his mind for some way he could persuade Drakasi. “It’s not the value that you place on the two silvers that I offer, but the value I place on them.”

  Drakasi frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Bowe knew that the Greniers valued warrior ideals, so he tried to appeal to that honor code. Loyalty and sacrifice for a companion was surely something that Drakasi would respect. “I borrowed money from Alandar and have already spent some of it. That money is now my lifeblood, for the Raines will see me dead if I cannot return it with interest. And I will freely give up some of my lifeblood to save my friend.”

  “Blood and death / To save another / Exalted above all.”

  Yes, I know you are a terrible poet, Bowe thought. Just give the word to free Vitarr.

  “Did you know that you were the Green I was supposed to kill yesterday? We only changed targets on the day. Someone is looking out for you.” Drakasi said, considering.

  Bowe held his breath. Several light pink uniformed marshals had arrived, and now watched at a distance.

  Finally, Drakasi nodded. “Very well. I will release the Green. But not for two silvers. His incompetence has disrespected this place. I will require more lifeblood than that.”

  “Four silvers,” Bowe offered, holding Drakasi’s gaze.

  Drakasi didn’t blink.

  “Six silvers, and you ensure that both Vitarr and myself get out of here safely.” Bowe offered his forearm.

  Drakasi clasped it, and Bowe breathed a sigh of relief.

  “If either of you return to the Fortress again, I may not be so merciful.”

  Bowe threw Vitarr’s arm over his shoulder and dragged him out the same side door he had entered. Vitarr’s jagged breaths lapped against his neck. Despite the dangers the day had brought, at least they were both alive.

  Chapter 4

  40 Days Left

  The wide-brimmed straw hat kept the heat off, but more importantly, it let him blend in. His white ascor clothes were now dirty enough to be indistinguishable from the everyday grays and browns that everyone else on the street wore. He jostled against a few escay as he crossed the street; he didn’t like having to brush against them, but he was getting used to it. He didn’t have a choice; he no longer lived at Raine mansion so apart from a few marshals and Greens, everyone he met was an escay.

  Bowe ducked into a narrow alleyway. Halfway down the alley, he hinged open the wooden boards tied with string that served as a door to the room where he and Vitarr stayed. “Hot out there,” he said to Vitarr, who sat inside.

  “Stop saying that.” Vitarr sat on a small stool, his back leaning against the wall. His arm was still in a sling, but he looked healthy. A s
mall, square window high on the wall let in enough light for Bowe to see that the grayish tinge had left his face.

  “Have I said it before?”

  “Only every blasted time you’ve returned. You think you’re being funny, but you’re not. Just annoying.”

  “Can’t I be annoying and funny?”

  “Shut up already. Helion’s balls. Did you hear any news?” Vitarr massaged his arm under his sling.

  “The newsbard didn’t have much to say about the Path. All the talk was about a shipment of red garnets that were stolen from the Lessards and a trading ship from Jarind that was impounded, suspected of allowing a spy into Arcandis.”

  “Nothing to say about the Path? Seriously?”

  “Seems to be quiet. Reyanu, Zidel, and Dulnato are all doing well, and no one has challenged their position. No Shadows or Wolflings of note.” With only three Greens deciding to be Elects, and no other strong contenders, the Path had become so uninteresting that the newsbards barely mentioned it.

  “Any particular news about Dulnato?”

  “No.” Several days ago, the newsbards had reported that Dulnato had promised to kill both Bowe and Vitarr after being denied blood in the training ring. Bowe now regretted revealing that news to Vitarr.

  “What about you? I bet they still talk of you and your stupidity in rescuing me.” Vitarr tried to catch Bowe’s gaze. The newsbards loved making fun of Bowe, who had shot up the lists after surviving the first day only to plummet again when he had borrowed money at ridiculous rates from Alandar and then given it away to the other mentors. Bowe hadn’t begun to think about how he could repay his loan, especially now after the additional money he had spent on rent, food, and doctoring.