The Ring Of Truth

by B Cameron Lee

  On the way they passed through Forbidden and bearing Cristal’s warning in mind, Redbeard reminded his men to keep their eyes open and not to stop for anything. They saw not a soul, the place seemed deserted and the silence was unnerving. Within the week the mercenaries arrived in Cumbrisia’s End and stayed for an extra day to rest over, pleased to find cheap accommodation. Behind an unused blacksmith’s shop they discovered a rudimentary hut which the innkeeper told them they could use for a small fee. The barn had been burnt down not long ago. There was still a charred smell clinging to the remaining ashes, disturbed where anything made of steel had been carried or dragged away.

  It was well past midsummer down on the plains but up here the few hardy crops were not yet full grown and the nights were still cool. Redbeard was glad of the small hut but it was cramped, so some of the Band bunked down in the smithy. After dark, apart from a few unlucky guards who would be relieved in an hour or so, he, Trader Brandel and the rest of his mercenaries headed for a dissolute night in The Flying Pig.

  The men had to let their hair down once in a while and this was as good a place as any, a small village where there would be no trouble from nuisance troublemakers.

  The whole band filled the inn and the ale flowed freely. The greasy, fat little innkeeper was gleeful at the amount of money rolling in and couldn’t be more helpful. He overstepped the mark with Redbeard though.

  “Where are you bound? Are you on a mission or something?”

  Redbeard growled and availed himself of a handful of the innkeeper’s shirtfront above the apron.

  “What we do and where we go is our business. If’n I hear you asking any of the men about us, I will slit your purse and I don’t mean the one which you keeps yer money in.”

  Releasing the grubby innkeeper from tiptoes, Redbeard carried on with his drink as though nothing untoward had occurred. No more questions were asked that night by the cowed innkeeper.

  The next day Redbeard declared a rest day. His men spent most of the morning cleaning their gear and carefully repacking their saddlebags, after which they relaxed and some slept, while others diced or played with the bones.

  “How long before we get there Boss?” Caron, his second-in-command asked Redbeard.

  “Oh, I’d say twelve to thirteen days. It’s all down hill from here.”

  “Good, I’ve got me a decent woman back in Belvedere an’ I don’t want to leave her alone too long. Some other bastard might try to keep her warm at night.”

  Redbeard smiled. “For the likes of us, a respectable woman is a rarity. They never know if we’re going to come back or not. If she ain’t strayed by the time we arrive back in Belvedere, hang onto ‘er. She’d be one o’ the good uns.”

  The next morning proved misty in the pale pre-dawn light but the rising sun soon evaporated it away as Redbeard’s Band rode out of Cumbrisia’s End. Trader Brandel was feeling the pinch a little and took the opportunity to place padding between his rear end and the saddle. The loud ribbing from the rest of the group didn’t concern him but his battered rear end did. He gave thanks to Fate, secretly glad he didn’t have to make the return journey.

  As they rode through Durhain’s Pass and down the steeply inclined mountain road on the Myseline side, the weather seemed to warm up almost immediately. They negotiated switchback after switchback on the way down, with precipitous drops on the hairpin corners. Redbeard noted to himself the horses would tire somewhat coming back up the steep climb.

  In another two days Redbeard’s Band was back into the summery weather they had last enjoyed along the edge of the Barsoom Plains. To the east, now behind them, Mehgrin’s Wall loomed large, its topmost peaks snow capped and wreathed in permanent cloud. This was the first time any of them had been in Myseline and all of them took great interest in their surroundings.

  The crops the Band rode past, wheat, barley and other grains, were complimented by grapevines growing on rocky knolls and patches where the ground was less suitable for cropping. The farming folk they passed were large and sturdy, waving at the travellers from the fields where they worked, unafraid of the armed group of riders. Trouble here came from the sea, not from the east.

  Before many more days had passed, the men could smell the tang of the ocean and a few days later, off in the distance; the rhythmic sound of the pounding surf.

  Belvedere seemed so far away to all of them now.

  It was peaceful here.

  Bucolic.

  More than one rider vowed to return and live in Myseline, if they ever made it to retirement. In the mercenary line of work there was always doubt about staying alive one assignment to the next.

  When they topped the final rise and saw Trugor spread out before them, it was not quite what the Band had expected. The small town was just that, small, compared to the likes of Belvedere and Crossroads but it was a hive of activity. Alongside the road into town, the open framework of another new house was about to disappear under its stone walls while the new roof had already been completed. On the next lot, foundations had been freshly laid for yet another new dwelling.

  Once past the houses lining both sides of the road along the top of the low cliffs, Redbeard could see down to the harbour. Workmen down there were putting the finishing touches to what appeared to be a brand new warehouse with thick stone walls and defensible slitted windows.

  Trugor seemed a pretty spot at the moment but Redbeard could imagine the bleakness of the place when ocean storms rolled in off the ocean to the west in the middle of winter.

  Before they rode down into the town proper, Redbeard hailed the first person he saw, a man on a roof with a pile of slates beside him.

  “What’s happened to the town? Did you get a new warehouse or something?”

  The roof tiler appeared surprised.

  “You must have come a long way. Everyone in Myseline knows about the Draakon Reavers and what they did here. First attack in eighteen years and they killed only the Trader, Bryan nari Tsalk, and burned his warehouse to the ground. Only town they attacked too. Most folks reckon they were after something, or someone.”

  Redbeard was surprised. The Draakon Reavers had once been a problem all along the coast but after the Dominion War and the reduction in the size and power of the Dominion, the raids onshore had virtually ceased and the Reavers only resorted to piracy.

  “Could you tell me where I might find the Tsalk children?” Redbeard called up to the roofer.

  “They’re not children Mister. What do you want with them?”

  Redbeard smiled, now there was an example of what a community was all about.

  “I’ve a message from their Grandmother in Belvedere. It’s important I see them.”

  “Belvedere you say? Well you ’ave come a long way. See that building over there. The one with the upper story nearly finished. You might find one of them there.”

  “Thank you very much Sir. Good health.”

  With that Redbeard gave his horse a little nudge with his knee and the Band moved on.

  Within a few minutes they had all drawn up in front of the partially finished building which had been pointed out to them. It looked like the bottom section, the original stone building, recently had a wooden second storey added to it. Thick wood and stoutly built, as if against the possibility of attack. Redbeard looked over the people working there to see if he could identify either of the Tsalks but to no avail, just common workers scattered around the site. He stood up in his saddle and called out.

  “Can anyone here direct me to the Tsalk residence please?”

  A well built woman straightened up from where she had been laying flooring slabs and wiped a wisp of light brown hair from her face with the back of her grubby hand. She was not unattractive, with striking yellowy green, intelligent looking eyes which missed little. Other workers had also straightened from their labours.

  “Who wants to know?” she challenged.

  “My name is Redbeard. I have been hired by Cristal nasi Tsalkini to deliv
er a letter to Staril and Raleen Tsalk of Trugor. That man there, Trader Brandel, is an employee of the lady. Now, can you tell me where to find them?”

  “I am Raleen nasi Tsalk and that man over there hanging the door is Staril nari Tsalk. It is late afternoon Mister Redbeard and I’m sure you would like to get your men camped down for the night. The Commons up at the top of the hill there is probably as good a place as any to camp. There is no accommodation presently available at the inns and the Commons has passable grass for the horses. Please return here in an hour and dine with us. Just you and Trader Brandel will do. If you’ll excuse us now, we have daylight left and much work to do.”

  Redbeard could tell a dismissal when he heard it. He had to admit, she was like her Grandmother in that respect. He twisted in the saddle and looked around to where she had pointed, recognising the area mentioned. There were tents up there and a spiral of smoke drifting skyward. Wheeling his horse around, he led the dusty band up to the top of the hill. Upon their arrival at the Commons he sat his horse and faced his men to speak to them.

  “It’s a warm night lads, doesn’t look like rain. No hardship for us. Get settled in and make yoursels a feed. Don’t trouble no one and remember, there could be heavy dew in the morning so use yer canvas to sleep in. I’ll come back here later, after the meeting. Caron, you’re in charge until I return.”

  Redbeard signalled Trader Brandel and pointed to the grassy-banked stream running alongside the Commons. Before long, both men were washed, hair brushed and the dust shaken out of their clothes, a lot cleaner looking than when they’d rode in. Within the hour, Trader Brandel, walking rather gingerly, wearily followed Redbeard back down to the building site.

  When they arrived, neither Raleen nor Staril were there but a small child stood up on a pile of rocks in front of them and waved for their attention.

  “Yer t’follow me Mister.” He yelled before jumping down and walking cockily down the cobbled street toward the sea. They followed. About half way down, the child stopped and pointed at a sturdily built stone dwelling.

  “Theys in there waitin’ for ye.”

  Redbeard and Brandel straightened their clothes, the latter massaging the sore places on his rear end, before ducking under the eaves of the porch. Redbeard knocked on the stout wooden door. It was opened immediately by Staril and they were invited into the house. A fire was burning in the stove and a couple of pots were bubbling on top of it, steam rising from under the lids. Staril ushered them both into the main room.

  “Ale or wine gentlemen? I recommend the wine; it’s a good strong red.”

  “The wine sounds fine.” Redbeard replied, glancing over at Brandel, who nodded in agreement.

  “Make it two please.”

  They were seated, drinking wine, when Raleen entered the plain but comfortably furnished sitting room. She had washed, changed out of her work clothes and was wearing a serviceable but still attractive dress. In fact, Redbeard thought, she looked quite handsome.

  “The meal will be ready in about thirty minutes. Nothing special but sustaining fare. Do you have a name other than Redbeard? I find it so impersonal.”

  Redbeard coloured but she was compelling.

  “Tomas is the name my mother gave me but don’t let the men hear you use it please.”

  “Thank you Tomas, it will be our secret. Now, what is the message from my Grandmother?”

  Raleen accepted a mug of wine from her brother, all the while looking at Tomas, who pulled the rather crumpled letter from his jerkin pocket and made to hand it to her.

  “Staril is the elder; it is his right to read it first.”

  Staril took the letter and broke the seal. He sat and read the contents by the lamplight then handed the missive to Raleen who took it and read it through. When she’d finished she handed the single sheet back to Staril who folded it up.

  “I’m not going,” was all Staril said.

  “But I was told to fetch you both.” Redbeard grated.

  “I said, I am not going,” was the firm reply.

  Raleen stared pointedly at Redbeard.

  “He always means what he says Tomas. Let it be.”

  Then she turned to face her brother, took a couple of breaths and spoke evenly.

  “Why, Staril? We’re her only living relatives and she’s sent these men to escort us to Belvedere. It must have been an expensive hire.”

  Staril’s gaze was fixed on his hands as he replied.

  “Arwhon made it over there and is off on some mission but our Father left us money to rebuild his Trading business. It is his legacy and very important to the people of Trugor. If we drop everything and go, no memory will be left of our Father and Trugor could suffer. I cannot allow that. Tell me Brandel, how long have you worked for our Grandmother?”

  “Oh, about ten years now Staril. I’ve risen to third in her Trading company, behind the manager and herself. We deal mostly in grains and such and I am well trusted. Your Grandmother wanted me to take over here but she didn’t say anything about building the business up. I thought the Trading was well established.”

  “It was until the Draakon Reavers came. Trugor was the only place along the coast they hit. Our warehouse was the target. Our father was killed by them and most everything we owned stolen or burnt but father hid enough gold away for us to start again. Just.”

  Staril’s gaze swung to Raleen. “What say you, sister?”

  Raleen was troubled. When she had read the invitation, her first desire had been to take up the offer but she could see the sense of her brother’s words. Still, although they had always been together, there would come a time when they should part.

  Maybe this was it.

  “Staril, we cannot always live together. You need to take a wife. I know you have been looking with favour on Polnari, the Harbourmaster’s daughter and she seems willing too. I’m in the way a little by still being here in this house with you. Trader Brandel is probably much more use than me for Trading and I would really like to visit Grandmother. That is, if you have no real objections.”

  Staril’s shoulders slumped.

  “I always thought I would lose you to marriage, not to chasing off on some wild whim to visit our Grandmother. However, she has invited us and it would be rude if we didn’t respond to her invitation. She obviously wants to see us. Perhaps you could find a way to help with our Trading from that end. I cannot hold you here, nor would I want to. Raleen, if you want to go, go with my blessing.”

  Raleen arose from her seat and gave her brother a heartfelt hug before wiping her eyes as she moved to the kitchen. The emotion in the room was palpable and Redbeard looked away, swallowing an unbidden lump in his throat, strangely moved by his exchange with this woman.

  Something which had not happened in the past twenty years.

  Odd.

  Before long the three men were called into the kitchen where a welcoming meal was laid out. Each place at the table bore a large steaming plate, loaded with a generous helping of stew made from boiled turnips, spinach, mutton and gravy. In the centre of the table, a warm loaf of bread and a knife lay on a platter with a lump of butter in a dish beside it. The smell of the food was appetizing.

  Raleen was apologetic. “It’s not much but we weren’t expecting guests. To be honest with you, we do get a bit sick of fish, which is why we’re having sheep tonight. Please sit and eat.”

  Redbeard complimented her on the aroma wafting up from his plate and after they had begun to eat, Raleen received compliments on the flavour from both guests.

  “So when is my sister to leave?” Staril asked without preamble.

  Redbeard looked up and spoke around a mouthful of food.

  “Cristal said to be as quick as possible. We spent five weeks getting here but that was to conserve the horses for the return journey. We brought a couple of spares. One of them is a good ride. Have you ridden much Raleen?”

  There was a definite pause before the reply.

  “Once or twice.”<
br />
  Redbeard grimaced.

  “Then I think this may not be the most comfortable journey you will ever make. We are also camping out, as it’s safer to do so. It could be rough for you.”

  “It will be the longest journey I’ve ever made and I’m looking forward to it.” She shot back.

  Brandel paused, fork halfway to his mouth.

  “The first two weeks will be the worst. Climbing uphill is not pleasant and, if you’ll pardon me, is hard on the backside. After which it’s all downhill or mostly flat. By the time you get to Belvedere you’ll be quite used to riding.”

  The loaded fork went in to his mouth.

  “So Tomas, when do you wish to leave?”

  “The day after tomorrow would be the best methinks.” Redbeard replied.

  Raleen and Staril exchanged glances. He shrugged. She mused aloud.

  “That would give me just enough time to say goodbye to everyone and pack a few things. Do you have saddlebags and such? We don’t have many possessions since the Reavers were here.”

  Redbeard nodded. “I’ll drop the packs off in the morning and spend tomorrow checking over the horses and gear and resupplying. Be ready to leave about an hour after sunrise the following day. Trader Brandel will come here with me in the morning and spend the day with your brother.”

  Staril looked up from his meal.

  “I can help with resupplying. I can find what you want or tell you where to get it. It will be of use to Brandel if he came along to meet some of the people I Trade with. Bring a list of your needs in the morning Tomas and we’ll try to fill it.”

  They finished their meal and sat in the living room talking while imbibing a few more wines but before long it was time for Redbeard and Brandel to leave. A cheery goodnight at the door and the siblings were again on their own. As the door closed, Raleen gave her brother another heartfelt embrace.

  “Thank you Staril. Thank you so much for letting me go.”

  His easy smile belied the pain of her imminent departure.

  “You were right in what you said. We would have to part eventually and I think this will be good for both of us in the long run. Not that I want you to go of course.”