He decided to concentrate on the immediate future and looked forward to Three Rivers. The trading town in the north of Hjalgar was the second largest settlement in the country and the travelling craftsmen and merchants who had visited Deepstone in the past would always sing its praises.
Falk announced that they would reach their destination the following morning and during the course of the day Ahren noticed the gradual changes in the surroundings. The farms seemed a little bigger, there were hardly any more small holdings, and here and there they would see a carpenter’s workshop or a smithy, buildings you would normally only see in the centre of a village.
Dark clouds began to gather that evening and they quickly sought out accommodation. Firstly, they didn’t want to be travelling at dusk, and secondly, the patina that Falk had put on his and Selsena’s armour couldn’t withstand a heavy fall of rain.
The woman who put them up for the night had been a charcoal burner but had given up that exhausting work. She preferred to take in travellers who hadn’t made it as far as the town. It wasn’t long before the heavens opened and daylight vanished with frightening speed. Lightning flashed across the sky and Ahren went to the window. A flash of lightning lit up the sky he thought he recognized a very strange cloud made up of a collection of leather-winged bodies. Then it was dark again. He couldn’t be certain of what he had seen, but now there was a niggling doubt.
He closed the shutters and bolted them, giving Falk a meaningful look as he did so. He nodded silently in response and did the same with the other windows. All the while, the woman was happily chatting away, pinching Uldini on the cheek and tousling his hair, which the wizard put up with stoically. Ahren had to suppress a grin and snuggled up to Culhen. An uncomfortable draught blew through the little house and the wolf’s pelt was a welcome source of warmth. The old woman offered them a home-made pie and once Ahren had had his fill he forgot about the threatening shadow outside the hut and started imagining how Three Rivers would look.
Ahren was splattered with mud. He stared down at the trading town in disappointment. This was the place he had heard so much about. He didn’t know what it looked like in sunshine but now it looked stocky and functional. No banners or pennants, none of the towers or other features he had imagined. Only a grey circle of houses squeezed together behind a palisade. A river stretched through the town and the intersection of two streets in the middle of the settlement presumably constituted the market square. They themselves were standing on a hill that Falk had led them up, several hundred paces off the main road.
He placed a hand on Ahren’s shoulder and said in an amused voice, ‘you don’t look happy, boy. Expected more, am I right?’
Uldini grumbled, ‘why the detour? It’s not exactly a stunning view and I really want to get out of my dripping things. And your armour is running’. The magus was in a particularly foul mood today and Ahren reckoned the noble youth didn’t like getting wet. It had been drizzling constantly since morning and all of them were soaked to the bone.
‘The boy is still being trained and I want to show him two things. Anyway, it’s better if he gawks from here, so that all and sundry don’t see through our disguise straight away’, Falk answered calmly.
Ahren gave him a look of displeasure and then tried to look disinterested.
Falk pretended not to notice and then began speaking in the peculiar tone of voice he used whenever he was teaching.
‘Whenever you visit a strange town, then view it from the outside first if you can. Preferably from a raised position, as we’re doing now. First, look at the city gate. Are there a lot of sentries? That means trouble. The same is true if there are no sentries. Then they’re all busy inside the city or dead’. He pointed to the wooden arch which represented the southern city gate and where a huddled figure was standing, leaning on a halberd under a heavy oilskin awning, staring out at the depressing day. From where they were standing they couldn’t identify the other three gates. ‘That’s the ideal position. Bored normality’, said Falk in a pleased voice. Then he pointed to the only lofty building in the city, a three-storey stone building with a wooden pole above it, whose function Ahren couldn’t figure out.
‘That’s the signal mast. Similar to our alarm bell but visible from far away. The coat of arms of the mayor or the city lord or woman would normally hang there. The emblem isn’t there now so he or she isn’t in the city. A black flag would signal on outbreak of the Black Death, red would mean the town was on a war footing’.
Uldini cleared his throat loudly and Falk continued. ‘I’ll explain the rest of the signals later, but I hope you understand now why it’s important to check beforehand before you enter’.
Ahren nodded. His master had drummed into him how to recognize the behaviour of the different animals and the features of different areas of the forest. It was only logical that the same would apply to the city.
The small group descended the hill and soon they were at the city gate. Ahren put on a particularly bored expression and tried to look as anonymous as possible. The bed stone of the palisade was roughly one pace high and the palisade rose up roughly five paces in front of them.
This was the first time Ahren had seen such fortification, but it looked old and neglected. Some of the posts were askew or broken and there were cracks in the bed stone. The town watch who waved them through with a bored look completed the picture. The haggard looking man was wearing a leather jerkin which looked as if it had been repaired many times and a rusty chainguard. His halberd seemed slightly warped and the young man could see several nicks in its blade. Ahren’s image of the heroic bailiff had been severely undermined. Then they were through and entered Three Rivers. Ahren realised that his first impression of the city was mistaken. He could see solidly built stone houses, not to mention thatched wooden houses that had a more stable look than any of the ones he had seen in Deepstone, with the exception perhaps of the chapel and the Village Hall of his home village. All the buildings were well maintained and clean. When he looked down he noticed that he was no longer walking on trampled down clay but on large stone slabs, that were dirty and greasy from the rain, but prevented you from sinking in the rain. The few townspeople he saw may have been running around in their normal work clothes, but even to his untrained eyes Ahren could see a difference between the quality and fashioning of their clothes when compared with the clothing in his own village. ‘Is everybody here wealthy?’ he asked Falk very quietly and tried to hide his excitement.
Uldini snorted and Falk answered hesitatingly. ‘They have a certain affluence. Anyone who lives behind the palisade must have enough money for the privilege. Even if they’ve neglected the defences to a shocking degree’.
Uldini snorted again and said, ‘the numbskulls have been practising trade for too long and that’s why they’ve neglected their defences. Neither Kelkor nor the Fen Knights have done anything more than provoke a couple of inconsequential quarrels over the last century and that’s made them careless. They’ve forgotten that the Border Lands are a mere five days hard riding away. And a single dark bear would be able to rip through the toothpicks they call a palisade in no time at all’. The wizard’s disgust was palpable, but there was also great sadness in his face.
He’s worried about these people, thought Ahren. The magus could be even grumpier than Falk when he wasn’t happy about something, but he had also seen Uldini in a happy, almost mischievous spirit – it was difficult to make out this moody person.
The drizzle was setting in and Falk began to walk faster because the rain was washing the ash off the armour plating and it was become shinier with every minute. He pointed to a hostelry with stables and they quickly hurried over and sheltered with the horses. Falk looked down at himself doubtfully and took off the armour until he was down to his leather clothing. Then he took off Selsena’s armour and hid it all under a woollen blanket in the Elven-horse’s stall.
‘Take good care of it’, he murmured to her and they went into the tapro
om. While Ahren was taking in the comfortable if simple furnishings, Falk sorted out a room with the happy, wide-eyed innkeeper. Apart from themselves there were a few workers in the room, who were sitting out the bad weather, as well as three daredevil types at one of the corner tables.
Ahren wanted to take a closer look but the ferocious look from one of the fellows, a coarse-looking man with stubble made him look away quickly. He knew this look from Sven. He’d really rather not meet a grown-up version of the miller’s son, who had back up and weapons with him. The young man may only have glanced at him, but the long swords were unmissable.
Uldini squinted over at them too and said quietly, ‘let’s have everything brought to our room. I smell trouble down here’.
Falk nodded and made the necessary arrangements. They sat together in the early afternoon, having cleaned themselves, warmed up, and eaten a full meal. Falk wanted to head for the marketplace again.
‘We need something more hardwearing than the leather jerkins, and a few decent travel utensils. And we need another horse as well as a pack horse. Selsena has been giving me a pain in my head, complaining about all the weight she has to carry’.
‘I’m not going with you’, Uldini replied. ‘I’ll try to make contact with some of the Ancients. Maybe they can cast a really big and heavy magic net. A few diversionary tactics would definitely help us’. He made the crystal ball float in the middle of the room and pulled out a piece of chalk.
Falk nodded and gestured at Ahren to come with him. ‘It means Uldini will be busy for a while, but his idea is good. I’d be a lot happier if we could walk the length of the Red Posts without having to watch out for Swarm Claws or Fog Cats. There isn’t much protection out there’.
‘What are the Red Posts, master?’ Ahren had never heard of them before.
There had been another enormous row over the route they should travel and Uldini had won out in the end. Falk had seemed strangely relaxed since then although he had lost the argument, as if he had resigned himself to his fate.
‘It’s a sort of trade route. You’ll see it when we get there’.
Ahren shrugged his shoulders. He had learned to accept these cryptic answers.
The drizzle had eased off and now there was a dampness hanging in the air between the houses, which Ahren found uncomfortable. There were many more people scurrying around and the closer they got to the market place, the noisier it became. He could already see the colourful stalls and visitors weaving their way around in a complicated dance as they went about their various tasks. The whole market place was a hubbub of stallholders loudly pitching their wares and haggling with customers.
Ahren couldn’t help moving closer to Falk for protection. He found this crying, moving, sweaty smelling mass of people a little frightening somehow.
Falk could sense his apprentice’s discomfort and put an arm around his shoulders. ‘You’ll get used to it. You’ve only known village life and the wilderness. It’s louder in the towns. And this is nothing here. At some stage we’re going to have to go to the Sun Bazaar or the Eternal Market. You’ll find clever dealers at the entrances selling wax balls for your ears, so you can bear the noise’.
Ahren looked at the old man sceptically, unsure whether he was pulling his leg. Then they were in the market place and Ahren had to have his wits about him to avoid running into people as he looked around curiously. There were the usual vegetable, fruit and meat stalls of which there were many scattered around the marketplace. But he also saw stalls for wares that would at the very most only be sold individually in Deepstone by Master Velem if he had been lucky enough to get one or two. Rare cloths and priceless garments, decorative ironwork and even weapons were laid out on the display cloths for customers to admire.
They were turning a corner around a stall when Ahren stopped suddenly and several people crashed into the back of him. He was too stunned to hear the muttered curses behind him as he stared in amazement at a dwarf, hardly five paces away from him. He was offering sparkling gems, rings and necklaces for sale all, of which were displayed on a black velvet cloth spread out on the stall. The small sturdy creature was surrounded by four ferocious looking guards dressed in uniformed tunics. They all had their hands placed on their short swords, which were hanging from their belts. With the help of their shields they had little trouble directing the stream of people, so that they created an island of tranquility, where two wealthy looking merchants were examining the wares.
Even Falk look surprised. ‘That’s strange. The dwarves from Silver Cliff don’t usually sell their wares too far away from home. You have to travel the length of Kelkor to get here. He could do business in the Knight Marshes or in the Realm of the Sunplains with the same effort and earn twice as much money. Come with me’.
Falk determinedly pushed his way through the crowd and got to the counter. Ahren followed him and the guards eyed them suspiciously. From the way they changed their body position it was clear to Ahren that they considered the pair of Forest Guardians to be a threat rather than customers, and the young man realized that they were possibly three heartbeats away from open conflict.
The dwarf gave Falk a threatening look from under his bushy eyebrows but then the Forest Guardian said something in a strangely muffled and rumbling language, all the while crossing his arms in front of him, placing his hands on his shoulders and bowing. The merchant grunted in surprise and repeated the gesture and uttered the same words but in an incredibly deep and resonant voice, which gave his words a surprisingly natural fluidity.
The guards relaxed and turned their gaze back to the two merchants who were studying the wares, and also on the people passing by. Ahren breathed a sigh of relief and studied Falk’s partner with interest. He had never seen a member of the little people before and his expectations were not disappointed.
The dwarf reached as high as the middle of Falk’s torso, yet his shoulders were at least as broad as the old man’s. His arms and legs were squat, almost squeezed together but extremely powerful. His straw-blond hair with its complicated plaits giving him an air of wildness, fell as a thick mane down his back. His full bushy beard was similarly braided and grew down to his barrel-shaped chest. His clothing was indeed select and worthy of a wealthy merchant, but he also had metal arm and leg armour strapped on, and when he moved, Ahren could hear the rattle of chainmail.
Some soldiers have less protection going into battle, thought Ahren.
His mentor and the dwarf were engaged in a friendly conversation and when the jewellery merchant turned and pointed southwards at something, Ahren saw that he was carrying two vicious looking axes on his back, that couldn’t be seen from the front. The two merchants who were still looking at the jewellery noticed them too. One of them immediately became ashen-faced and retreated into the crowd where he disappeared. The dwarf noticed this, said something to Falk and hit him on the chest with his fist, causing his master to stagger.
At first Ahren thought that the merchant was angry because of his lost business, but then he gave a laugh, so deep and loud that Ahren’s bones shook. He couldn’t help chuckling too and it struck him that he liked dwarves.
Falk finished his conversation and much to Ahren’s disbelief, gave the little man a gold thaler. They both repeated the gesture they had made when they had greeted each other, and Falk indicated to his apprentice to follow him.
The old man was silent and contemplative for a while. Ahren continued to look at the displays while Falk, with practised efficiency, strode through the market and bought all the things they needed, telling the stallholders to deliver them to their lodgings. He hardly haggled at all and paid horrendous prices for the purchases.
They finally left the market and went towards the western gate. The palisades and the town watch didn’t exactly inspire confidence here either. Ahren realised that the jewellery stall had better defences than the whole city. He pointed this out to Falk, who laughed.
‘You’re not wrong. But you have to remember, Ker
-Korog is a guest of honour of the city, and the armed personnel were lent to him and are, in fact, the bodyguards of the city steward. Three Rivers clearly wants to improve its reputation as a trading city and for that reason sent out invitations to the merchants from the Silver Cliffs and Thousand Halls. Not a bad move if you think of what he told me earlier’.
Whatever it was the dwarf had told him, he clearly didn’t want to talk about it in public, and Ahren was clever enough not to ask questions about it for the moment. They went out the gate and Ahren saw a paddock on his left with more than two dozen horses in it.
‘Let’s see which of them suits you’, said Falk.
The next hour proved to be entirely painful for the apprentice. He had only been on a horse twice in his life and that was years ago at an Autumn Festival. He kept falling off or being thrown off and the horse wouldn’t listen to him. Falk lowered his expectations dramatically. His apprentice may have been quick to learn and gifted as well, but his horse-riding skills were minimal.
In the end they settled for the most docile horse available, a chestnut mare who still had another one or two summers in her for carrying a rider until she became too old. Ahren was depressed and could see how disappointed his master was. Today he had made two new discoveries: he liked dwarves and he hated horses! Falk quickly bought a pack horse and instructed the dealer to deliver the horses to the lodgings the following break of day. His apprentice’s foul humour was written all over his face and so the old Forest Guardian pulled himself together and smiled weakly at the young man. ‘You can’t be brilliant at everything. That’s a lesson you have to learn too. With a lot of practice and hard work we might make you into a passable rider’. Ahren heard the doubt in his voice and scowled. ‘And now we’ll get a sword for you, what do you think?’ his master continued and immediately the young man’s mood improved. Then Falk led him back into the streets of the city.
Ahren- the 13th Paladin Page 23
