by Jeff Wilson
“So he lets them off, as if nothing happened?” Ivor objected.
“Even if he could separate the disloyal crewmen from the innocent ones, which he could not, they would have been too numerous to confront,” Vannin explained. “By getting Edryd off the ship and pretending to dismiss the idea of an ongoing plot against him, he took away any immediate pressure on the crew to act.”
“That does make sense,” Edryd replied. “He must be praying he can make it to the next port without mishap.”
“And discharge the crew and hire on an entirely new one the moment they get there,” Greven added.
His story finished, Edryd took advantage of a lull in the conversation and drained what was left of his mug of ale.
Vannin finished his drink as well, and then he briefly tilted his head, listening intently. “Storm seems to have let up,” he commented before rising to his feet. “I think I will see if I can make it home before it starts again.”
“Live well and in good health,” Edryd said rather formally, inspiring a couple of curious looks.
“It was good to meet you,” Vannin said in response.
Vannin left quietly, followed shortly afterwards by Ivor and several others, leaving only Greven, who remained sitting on the other side of the table. Noticing the empty bowl and mug, Greven offered to refill them. When Edryd declined, Greven thanked him for the story. “That was interesting,” Greven said. “I have to say though, I am not sure I should believe most of it.”
“No, you probably shouldn’t,” Edryd agreed, almost relieved to see that someone had the sense to doubt him. He had resisted the urge to tell some of the more incredible lies that he had considered and rejected, but even so, he had assumed that someone would eventually challenge some part of the poorly crafted tale he had spun. He just couldn’t say that he had expected that Greven would end up being the one to do so.
“Doesn’t matter, it was well told… for something made up on the spot,” Greven said cheerfully. Greven placed his hands on the table, preparing to rise and collect the empty bowl and cup, but he suddenly eased himself back down and leaned forward. “Was any of it true, though?” he asked.
“The eight months of wages are real enough,” Edryd acknowledged as he placed a coin purse on the table.
“I thought you said you didn’t have any money,” Greven complained with an injured look.
“What I actually said, was that I didn’t have anything easily convertible,” Edryd corrected. “I want to pay for the meal, as well as a room, but I am going to need to find a way to exchange these.”
Edryd removed the contents of the bag and then flattened the purse onto the table, placing it strategically between the two of them. With Greven’s thick frame effectively shielding that part of the table from the few remaining people in the inn, Edryd proceeded to casually place two large gold coins on top of the cloth pouch.
Greven’s eyes widened. “Are those sovereigns?” he asked in a hoarse whisper, his gaze lingering on the two coins which were brightly reflecting the lantern light.
“Yes,” confirmed Edryd, “but rather excessive in terms of value for paying for things like lodging and food.”
“You could say that,” agreed Greven. “This is a good deal more than eight months of wages. If I offered you room and board for an entire year for just one of those, you would be getting a very poor bargain.”
“I do need a room, but just for a night or two,” Edryd responded. “If there is a place in town where I could get some local currency, I will be able to pay you after I exchange one of these for some smaller denominations.”
Greven didn’t respond immediately. He seemed to be doing mental arithmetic in his head, never taking his eyes from the two coins.
“Master Innkeep,” Edryd prodded.
Greven jerked his head up, slightly startled. “Sorry, lost in thought,” he apologized. “You would need to go to one of the four harbormasters down on the pier. No, that probably wouldn’t be any good at all. You might want to see the Ard Ri, Lord Esivh Rhol.”
“Ard Ri?” Edryd said with skepticism. “That’s rarified nobility for a rather smallish island.”
Greven cringed at hearing this description, and he gave a quick look around before answering. “I know it’s ridiculous, but he makes us call him that. He runs a business, of an immoral and ill reputed nature, out of the palace atop the island, and he dictates terms to everyone else in An Innis.”
“Let’s say I would just as soon not draw attention. Is seeking an audience with the self-styled High King of An Innis just to get local coins really a good idea? There must be a merchant or two who would be able to handle this.”
“The harbormasters I mentioned before, or one of their agents, would surely have the means,” Greven admitted, “but you have to understand, they are smugglers, swindlers, and villains of one kind or another, each and every last one of them. If you were to meet with any of those thieves, alone and unprotected, and you decided to play out those coins like you just did for me, they would take them alright, and not see any reason to give you anything in return.”
“Lord Esivh is a more legitimate sort then?” Edryd asked.
“No!” Greven said. “He is worse than any of them, and it is no close contest. Only, two gold sovereigns would not be a particularly large sum of money to him. Not so much at least that he would tarnish his image by taking coins from you like a common thief. He would spare no effort in prying them from you by other means though.”
“You group them all together, the Ard Ri included,” Edryd commented.
“There is good reason for that. They came from similar places and used similar means to take hold of what they could. Esivh has merely been the most successful recent example of a black market profiteer advancing his own interests.”
“I take your point about not tempting anyone. Perhaps I would be better off borrowing money instead.”
“That might come with another set of complications, but it probably would be safer,” Greven agreed.
“For something like that, I expect I will be better off dealing with one of your town’s less successful merchants, lower class notwithstanding. If you could give me a room for the night, and recommend someone appropriate, I will make sure to compensate you properly when I can.”
Greven, appearing apologetic, took a moment to respond. “I haven’t been successful enough of late to hire any help, so things here are in a bit of a neglected state. The few rooms I have that are fit to live in are already taken.”
“I would be happy for anything at all,” Edryd pressed. “Even a bare spot on the floor in a hallway would suit me fine if it will keep me dry.”
Greven’s brow furrowed in thought for a moment. He had begun to shake his head, when the corners of his mouth suddenly tightened into an odd sort of self-satisfied grin. “Wait one minute,” he said. “I think I have a solution.”
With no more comment than that, the innkeeper hurried up a nearby set of stairs. He was gone for several minutes and Edryd began to grow a little impatient before he finally saw Greven coming back down. The innkeeper was carrying a small brass ring, dangling from which, were two long iron keys. Setting the keys on the table, Greven settled back into his seat across from Edryd.
“There is a house on the other side of the courtyard behind this inn. Belonged to a friend of mine who asked me to look after the place for him,” Greven explained. “He has been gone for years now, so I don’t know that there is much risk that he has returned suddenly and will be in need of it tonight.”
Collecting the keys eagerly, Edryd rose from his chair. “I appreciate this Master Greven,” he said. “If you can think on it tonight, when I return these in the morning I will get your recommendation regarding whom I ought to see for credit on reasonable terms. I will make certain that all of this will have been well worth your time.”
Thanking the innkeeper one more time from the rear entrance to the inn, Edryd stepped out into the dark night air.
Aed Seoras
With his cloak swept back, hanging freely from where it was secured over his shoulders, Edryd took a deep breath and walked out into the courtyard behind the inn. The rain had stopped, but the air remained damp and fragrant with the smell of wet stones and moistened earth. An easterly wind carried a hint of the ocean, feeling cool against the skin on his neck as he made his way across the smooth cobbles beneath his feet. Twenty yards from the inn, with a low wall around its circular edge, a large community well stood in the center of the courtyard.
Choosing an angle that would skirt the edges of the wall around the well, Edryd made his way across the open space. The area was roughly squared by the boundaries of several large residential properties. Houses on each site, built two or three levels high with fine quarried granite blocks, overlooked the square. Most, including the home Greven had mentioned, were in various stages of progressing deterioration. Edryd could not connect the knowledge with anything which he had heard or seen, but he was aware that someone had followed him out of the inn and settled into the shadows against the establishment’s back wall. Edryd could feel the man looking at his back, waiting for the right moment to advance. Warding off a natural impulse to pause in response to his discernment of the threat, Edryd constrained his reaction and took care to maintain an uninterrupted bearing and manner.
As Edryd approached the center of the courtyard, the man pulled away from his position against the back wall of the Broken Oath. It was then that Edryd noticed, hidden behind the far side of the well, a partner to man who was at this moment slowly closing in on his back. This second man, who lay in wait behind the well, wasn’t in view now, but some movement made in anticipation of his approaching target must have alerted Edryd to his presence. Not willing to oblige his attackers by crossing into the range of whoever was skulking behind the well, Edryd turned to confront the man behind him, who was still about thirty feet away.
Edryd could not clearly see the man’s face, which was broad and flat with no resemblance to any of the men he had seen inside, but his intentions were clear from his aggressive posture. He, along with his partner hiding behind the well, intended to ambush a lone unsuspecting victim. Edryd was alone, but he was not the sort of prey these men would have chosen if they had known him better. “Close enough,” Edryd commanded, freezing the man in his tracks.
Under the faint light of the stars, and a moon which was nearly full, Edryd could see surprise and frustration on the man’s bearded face. Taking advantage of the pause his warning had created, Edryd evaluated the threat. The attacker was broadly built and stood several inches taller than Edryd. Looking for escape routes, Edryd’s attention was drawn to a passage that lay between the inn and an adjacent merchant’s shop. He peered intently for a moment into that narrow alleyway. It was completely dark and revealed nothing, but Edryd could feel a presence there. Thinking about this third attacker and wondering how much worse things could get, Edryd reflected with regret upon the decisions that had led him here. It had clearly been a serious mistake on his part to enter this town unarmed.
Returning his attention to the bearded attacker who had followed him out of the inn, Edryd did his best to match the man’s menacing stare. The broadly built thief appeared unwashed and poorly groomed, but his black woolen coat and simple belted pants were remarkably well maintained and clean. Edryd decided it was reasonable to believe that the freshly laundered clothes were probably stolen. Then again, how this giant of a man had found someone else’s clothes, which were so well-tailored for such a large frame, Edryd couldn’t imagine.
The big man’s eyes shifted, drawn towards something over Edryd’s right shoulder for a brief moment, before returning to focus on Edryd. His partner has left his cover Edryd realized. Continuing to look forward and pretending to be oblivious to anything but the heavyset man in front, he focused his concentration on the enemy creeping up behind him, listening carefully for the soft muted scrape of leather boots against damp paving stones. Struggling against the urge to tense up, Edryd waited until he could all but feel the man standing behind him in preparation to deliver an attack.
Holding a heavy rock in his right hand, the man swung it downward with great force, hoping to take Edryd down without a struggle. Timing his move for this moment, Edryd turned on his right foot, and bent his knees sharply, bringing his body into a low crouch. The blow, which had been aimed at the back of his head, missed high, leaving his attacker off balance. Edryd grabbed hold of the man’s coat with both of his hands and surged back up into a standing potion, lifting his attacker slightly as he did so before slamming the startled man back to the ground. The man landed square on his back with a soft grunt as air was knocked from his lungs, followed by a dull thud when the back of his head struck hard on the stone paving.
Edryd had no time to make sure that his downed opponent would not get back up. The other attacker had already closed the distance between them, moving with more speed than he reasonably could have given such a large man credit for. It was too late to evade the reckless charge, too late to do anything but turn and brace against the unavoidable collision. Trying to ward against the impact, shock surged through every joint in Edryd’s frame as he met the crash. His upraised arms absorbed very little of the overwhelming force from his more massive adversary, but Edryd maintained his footing, desperate to not end up on the ground beneath his opponent.
The large man’s momentum had not been stopped though, and he now had a firm grip on Edryd’s shirt as he continued to surge forward. The smell of old stale sweat, subdued in a small measure by a fragrant herbal scent, permeated the air around the man who had seized hold of him. Edryd tried to lean into his opponent and redirect him, but his feet could not gain any sort of purchase on the slick cobbled stones beneath his boots. He was being driven backwards into the center of the courtyard.
With what little leverage Edryd could manage, he struck a sharp blow aimed at the center of the man’s torso just below his ribs. This did not stop the foul smelling man, but it did cause his grip on Edryd’s shirt to weaken. Edryd, still being driven backward, tore free and got as low as he could before spinning on his left leg until he was facing in the same direction as his attacker, with only the leg on which he had pivoted still overlapping the man’s continued trajectory. Raising his foot from the ground, Edryd caught the crook of the man’s ankle with the heel of his boot, sending him into an uncontrolled dive. The wall of stone that encircled the well was only a few feet away, which fortunate for Edryd, but not so convenient for his attacker. The man flew forward, striking the wall first with his head and then his left shoulder. A large section of well gave way, dust from the crumbling mortar clouding the air as the wall collapsed. The falling stones made distorted sounds as they collided back and forth down the sides of the well before splashing loudly in the water below.
Edryd turned back around, intending to locate his original opponent. The man no longer lay where he had fallen. His enemy, an older wiry man not much shorter than Edryd, stood only a dozen feet away, eyes glazed over but still filled with angry intent as he slowly pulled a short thin blade from a sheath that had been concealed somewhere in the recesses of his coat. Unconsciously, Edryd started to reach for the hilt of a sword at his side that wasn’t there, muttering a silent curse as he remembered that he was not armed. For now, his enemy made no advancing movement. The earlier exchange had taught him caution.
“Get up, Hagan!” the older man ordered, yelling at his partner who lay in a heap beneath a pile of rocks beside the well. “That can’t have been enough to hurt you.”
Edryd risked a quick look back at Hagan. If the other man did not think Hagan was hurt, he must have lacked capacity for sympathy. To Edryd’s amazement though, Hagan was actually stirring and might be back up on his feet in another minute. Do I have to kill one of them to end this? he wondered silently to himself.
“Yelling out the name of your partner… in the middle of a robbery?” Ed
ryd said, mocking his attacker as he returned his focus to the older man. “I’m sure that’s breaking a pretty basic rule in your profession.”
If Edryd’s comments bothered the man, he wasn’t showing it. If anything, it helped the man regain some focus. It occurred to Edryd then, a little too late, that aggravating an armed attacker probably hadn’t been the best possible idea. The glazed look in his opponent’s eyes seemed to be diminishing, but still he did not attack. Apparently a knife was not advantage enough. He also wanted support from Hagan.
“Get up!” the knife-wielding man shouted again at Hagan.
“Sorry… Cecht,” Hagan apologized, struggling to speak clearly. “I… I’m getting up.”
“He’s barely any smarter than you are,” Edryd said to Cecht while shaking his head derisively, forgetting that he had, only just a moment ago, decided against the wisdom of provoking the man who was holding a very dangerous looking double-edged knife.
Edryd was not about to wait for Hagan to recover. It would have been a good time to run, but Edryd chose to attack. A couple of quick strides brought him into striking range. Using his left arm, Edryd deftly knocked away a knife thrust aimed at his chest, deflecting the knife hand inward and up, partially turning his opponent and leaving the side of his ribs and stomach open. Edryd moved as if to strike the exposed area, causing Cecht to instinctively bring his arm down, his forearm tightly pulled in to shield against the feigned attack.
This was what Edryd had hoped for, and he struck down as hard as he could with his fist on the rounded upper edge of Cecht’s forearm just below his elbow. Surprise registered on the man’s face as his arm straightened, having lost all sensation, and the knife fell from his hand. Edryd took hold of the man’s arm at the wrist, thinking to twist his enemy and force him to the ground, but now it was his turn to be surprised. Edryd felt like he was making a futile attempt to hang onto a runaway mount as Cecht tore his arm free with an unbelievable surge of strength that unbalanced Edryd and almost sent him to the ground.
