Alec reflected on the behavior of these people who had so much given to them so easily. If he had been born into nobility or wealth, would he have grown up like this, he wondered. What type of person would he have become?
At the next bar, slightly dingier than the first, more drinks were served and the group grew more intoxicated. Alec maneuvered away from sitting next to Circh, and wound up at the end of a table, half-listening to the conversation that was going on at his end. He felt very hungry, and wondered if there was a plan to eat food anytime soon.
In a few minutes they rose and walked through the dark streets to another tavern. Alec was the last in the line that threaded between the buildings and the obstacles in the road, and he observed that many of the others were now staggering, or walking irregularly at best.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned around. In the darkness of the unlit streets in this poor part of town he could see little, and only guessed at the presence of someone else on the street. He reached for his sword to reassure himself, and discovered to his horror that it wasn’t on his hip. It was then that he remembered having taken it off when he laid down on his bed back in the Locksfort compound, and he said a silent prayer hoping that no trouble would befall the group tonight.
They soon arrived at an open space, and Alec realized they had reached the very edge of the city, where a street ran along top of a dike at the riverbank. A few steps down and they entered a shabbier bar than Alec had ever been in before, one that wasn’t very crowded that evening.
Alec felt uncomfortable. This wasn’t the kind of place he’d ever visit on his own. He was sure that others from the Locksfort picnic crew, the responsible ones like Durer and Johanna, would not have come to a place like this either. As the group settled down and had their first drinks, the door opened, and half a dozen men walked in, looking at the young drinkers as they took a table close to the front of the public room.
After several minutes, the group at the other table rose one by one and walked across the room. Alec watched them spread out and casually circle around the young Locksforts, although no one else paid any attention. Alec wished desperately for his sword, and began to consider what alternatives he would have for a weapon.
“You young lads and lasses shouldn’t be in a place like this,” one of the men said loudly, and he slapped the side of his sword down on their table to draw their startled attention. “We’ll protect you from any evil-doers hereabouts, but we’d like some money in return. If you’ll all just place your purses and cash out on the table in front of you, we’ll collect that and make sure you don’t suffer any problems.”
Several bleary pairs of eyes looked around, uncertain what to do, and no one took any immediate action.
The leader of the ruffians grabbed the pale hair of Circh and pulled it hard, raising her head and placed his long knife against her throat. “I want your money now, people,” he said roughly. Circh screamed in fear, and the man yanked hard on her hair, jerking her head. “Shut up!” he yelled.
Alec stood up. “I have money,” he said. He’d withdrawn a great deal of money in Redwater, and had spent virtually none of it since. He stepped up on his chair and then on the table, knocking over someone’s tumbler of drink in the process. “My belt is a money belt,” he explained, and unbuckled the metal tongue. All eyes were on him. “Please take your knife off the girl,” he asked as he pulled the belt halfway off and untied the hidden pouch inside. He retrieved a gold coin, and tossed it to the knife-wielder, who withdrew his knife from Circh and let go of her hair.
“I want the whole belt, not a single gold, stupid youngster,” the man spat at Alec. “And I want money from the rest of you, too,” he added with an expletive.
That word was his last word. With the threatening knife away from Circh, Alec dove off the table at the man, knocking the knife loose. He knocked the robber to the ground, and wrestled his sword off the man’s hip. “Brandeis, sit on this man and don’t let him get up!” Alec shouted. He had a sword in hand, and felt ready to swing into action. He picked up a chair and hurled it across the room at another of the robbers, and briefly parried with the man closest to him, easily knocking his sword away and slicing the man’s ribcage. The men had obviously not bargained for any kind of resistance from their victims.
Within just a minute three of the six robbers were down and disabled. “You get out now or you’re next,” Alec said, looking at the remaining three. They looked at one another, unable to grasp what had happened to their companions so quickly. “Go now or you’ll be sorry,” Alec reiterated the threat, and stepped around the table towards them. They scrambled to the door and out, while the leader of the group was still struggling under Brandeis.
The room had been quiet, but now a babble arose from the group of disturbed revelers, as well as the few others who were in the tavern. Alec looked at his companions, judging their condition. Brandeis, and another boy he knew was named Delle, seemed least inebriated. “Brandeis, let him up so he can leave. Delle, let’s get everyone together and head back home now, shall we?” he said loudly.
They nodded in agreement and stood, leading others to stand as well. Within a half minute Alec was leading the group out onto the street, checking the safety of the way. “Delle, I don’t know the way from here,” he said. “You lead. Brandeis, you stay in the middle, and I’ll follow to catch anyone who falls behind.”
“Alec, what did you do back there?” Brandeis asked him urgently.
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The Loss of Power: Goldenfields and Bondell Page 40
