Death Comes To All (Book 1) (14 page)

"Why
should you care whether or not I learn how to fight?" Roland
asked, coming back to that same question once more. "I just
don't understand."

"You
worry to much Roland, "Malik scolded. "If you want to
learn, learn. If you don't want to learn more, then you can leave us
once we are in the city. I'm sure with your strength and knowledge
you'll have no trouble finding some kind of work. So it's up to you.
Don't worry about my motivations. Learn what you can, if that's what
you want to do. We like having you around. That's all the motivation
you need to concern yourself with."

He's
exactly right,
Roland realized.

He had been worrying about why such strange and
unexpected things had been happening to him, instead of just
accepting them. If Malik has ulterior motives, they would not be
revealed until the man was ready to talk about them, and not a moment
before. Drom knew that if he ever wanted to learn them, he would just
have to stay with the two until then. For all he know, Malik's entire
reasoning was simply to let that question hang in the air. The
question itself might be his way of trying to get Drom to stay.

He
chuckled softly under his breath at the thought, barely audible even
to himself as he made the sound.

"Have
you come up with something you think?" Malik laughed.

Roland
refused to be baited. He knew that Malik wasn't going to tell him,
even if he was right.

If
nothing else, my companion enjoys his mysteries. Anything he tells me
will only lead me further astray.

It seemed to be the nature of the man.

He
heard a noise coming from near the fire, and turned toward the
source, already knowing what it was. Tara was stirring. She lifted
her head, looking around the campfire.

"Fish?"
she asked groggily.

"Already
packed away," Malik answered before Roland had a chance to. "You
can have it for dinner tonight. You ate too much last night. If you
eat any more right now you'll make yourself sick. It would be better
to wait."

"That
should be my choice." Tara said testily. Roland could see what
Malik had meant when he said that the woman would eat the entire
thing in one sitting if he would let her. She didn't even seem to
care if eating too much at once could make her sick.

"You
know I'm only looking out for you," Malik chided. "I'm also
looking out for myself, of course. The last time you ate too much you
were impossible to be around for nearly a week. I would like to avoid
that if we can."

She
wordlessly shouldered her pack and stomped back toward the road. The
two men grabbed their own packs and followed her. Trick still lay
curled in the bough of a tree above them, though Roland knew that the
little dragonling would catch up to them shortly. He never could be
certain when the creature would leave to follow them, but if what
Malik had told them the night before was true, Trick was most likely
well aware of everything that was going on around him, even if he
seemed to be completely asleep.

"Is
she going to be alright?" Roland asked Malik under his breath.
He noticed, however, that Tara's ears swiveled in his direction. The
hearing of the feral woman continued to amaze him.

"She'll
be fine," The assassin answered merrily. How the man continued
to be so cheerful, considering he hadn't slept the night before if he
was to be believed, was a mystery. Roland thought he was telling the
truth about staying awake and keeping watch during the night. It
certainly fit in with what he knew of the man.

"She's
just sulking right now," he continued. "Most likely, she's
in a rush to get to the next camp site. The sooner we get there, the
sooner she can eat the rest of the gar."

Tara
proved to be an icy, silent companion the rest of the day, even more
so than normal. Roland tried talking to her off and on as they
walked, but she seemed to have no intention of talking to anyone. Why
she seemed to be taking her annoyance out on him he couldn't guess.

It
wasn't as if I had told her not to eat any more that morning,
he
thought.
It was Malik who had done that.

Drom thought that the only time the feral woman was so
testy was when she was hungry, but she certainly seems to be proving
that wrong now.

In
the late afternoon Roland heard a shrill whistle, not a single, solid
note but several sounds in succession, from somewhere in the trees
above them. He scanned the sky and treetops, but couldn't see
anything that might have made the strange sound. Tara stopped ahead
of them, waiting for them to catch up.

"There's
someone ahead," Malik told him. "That was Trick warning us
just now. From what I gather there is a small group up ahead. Five I
think, judging by his call, though he's better at understanding me
than I am at understanding him."

On
this occasion Malik's interpretation of Trick's whistling call proved
exactly right. Within a matter of a few minutes a group of five men
could be seen in the distance, further down the road. The two men
leading the way, dressed in light earth-tones, were clearly
mercenaries of some sort. Roland could just make out the long, thick
sabers strapped to their waists. Judging by the easy manner with
which they carried themselves he was certain the men knew how to use
the wicked blades.

Behind
them walked a heavyset man leading a chestnut brown horse. The man
wore bright blue trousers that billowed out loosely from underneath a
deep red tunic. On his head he wore a black hat that bore no feather
or adornment. The horse he lead by a thick tether was heavily
burdened with several packs, all of which appeared to be full.

Behind
the horse walked two more men, dressed similarly to the two that led
the group. Roland couldn't tell if they were armed the same way.

They
would be guards,
he thought.
Two in the front, and two in the
back, to protect the cargo and its owner from every direction.

As
the Roland and Malik reach Tara she pulled up the cloth that was
around her neck, covering her face as she had done when Roland had
first met her. He could understand why.
A
feral woman was rare enough that anyone might take notice of her. Far
better for her to cover her features whenever possible.

"Do
you think they could be dangerous?" he asked Malik. "Perhaps
you should carry the sword. You're far better with it than I am."

"No,
you should keep it for right now. You're our mercenary guard, just
like those men are guarding that man there. They aren't looking to
cause trouble, at least not likely. Those packs look heavy already.
They are most likely heading toward one of the cities east of here.

“
It's
a good guess that this merchant doesn't want to advertise his cargo.
Either he's transporting goods that are not allowed to be sold, which
could be nearly anything that the mages don't agree with, or he wants
to avoid paying transport taxes on whatever it is he has. Right now
he's probably wondering the same sorts of things about us. He might
think that we mean to rob him, since we wouldn't seem to be carrying
much at the moment.

“
However,
if we were looking to rob him we wouldn't have stayed on the road.
He'll know that we can fit a decent amount in our packs, more if he
thinks they are magicked, and even if he doesn't he'll know that
there's plenty of cargo that doesn't require much room, such as
jewels or spices. Most likely he thinks we are no different than he
is, which is good. That is our cover after all."

“
Are
you sure I won’t have any problems passing for a human?”

“
Don’t
worry. Even if they question that, not all Thane’s are human.
Just let me do all the talking and you’ll be fine.”

A
few minutes later the two groups met on the road. The guards leading
the way for the colorful merchant eyed the three warily.

Obviously
these men aren't going to take any chances with us.

Roland
did his best to look intimidating, which he imagined that a proper
guard would do in a situation like this. It certainly seemed to be
how these men carried themselves.

"Any
news from the city?" Malik asked the merchant in a deep accent,
ignoring the guards entirely. Roland had completely forgotten about
the accent his companion had used the first time he had seen him in
this disguise. "We've been on the road for some time. It's
always good to know what you're walking into."

"Nothing
out of the ordinary," the merchant replied casually. "We
left there only two days ago. Any news out of Lando? We're on our way
there now with bundles of silk and cotton cloth."

"Sorry
friend, but that's not where we're coming from. We're coming back
from Port Dayton. We delivered several bundles of medicinal herbs
that I collect in the swamps. We're heading to Port Tam now for the
same thing. The road behind us is clear, or was when we passed
through. You're the first traders we've seen along this road."

"You
won't find many ahead of you either," the merchant told him.
"Not too many people travel this road. You'll start running into
people a few miles from the city, but there won't be much between
here and there. The guards at the city gates have been a bit overly
enthusiastic for the past couple of weeks. Bloodheart decided he
needs more taxes, no doubt. His tax collectors are stationed at the
gates, and his import and export taxes have gone up another three
percent this month. You might want to find a different way in if you
want to make any sort of a profit from your herbs. I don't know of
any myself, being a respectable merchant, but I've heard there are
ways in along the east wall."

"Since
I'm also a respectable merchant I wouldn't really need to know that,
however thank you for the information all the same. I'm sure that the
mages are making enough from their taxes already after all. No need
in helping them get richer, I say. If someday I decide that those
mages are rich enough I might need to know of such routes, though
undoubtedly the one you are talking about right now would be closed
by then. Still, I'm sure that new ways into the city besides the
gates open as quickly as the guards find ways to close them."

"Of
course friend," the merchant said with a sly smile. "I'm
Carn. Should you find yourself with some extra time in the city, head
on over to the Gatortooth Inn. The bartender there is a friend of
mine. Could be that he'll know of a few places where you can sell
your herbs at a fair price; discreetly of course. As you said,
there's no sense in making the mages richer if we don't have to. My
friend has an ear to the ground, so you can count on him to give you
a hand should you need it."

"I'm
Malik, friend. I've met your bartender friend before. He's a good man
from what I know, though I don't know him that well. Once in Lando
you should try the Grinning Shark Pub. There's a trill that spends a
lot of time there. I'm not sure if he can do much with cloth, but he
has his hand in most things. He might find you a better price than
your regular buyer. He goes by the name of Pax. Just mention me by
name and he'll treat you fairly. I'm afraid I can't give you much
information on what's going on there right now. I haven't been there
in some time, but he was there last year when I went through. I see
no reason why he wouldn’t still be there now."

"Thanks
for the advice," the merchant, who had named himself Carn,
replied. "Good luck on your endeavors. Hopefully we'll meet
again sometime, and you can tell me how things worked out for you."

"It's
always possible," Malik replied. "We seem to frequent the
same places in the port cities, and not many others use this road.
Good luck to you, Carn. Until we meet again."

"Until
then Malik."

Carn
turned and headed down the road where they had just left. His guards
kept a close eye on Roland and his companions until they were nearly
out of sight, far longer than they really had to. Malik waited until
they were completely out of sight before turning back to the group.

"It
looks like there might be some problems at the gate after all,"
he said to them. "We won't be going in through the gate like we
planned. The guards will be going through everything, and I would
prefer to avoid any sort of trouble, or scrutiny. We’re playing
the part of smugglers after all, so we really do have items we need
to keep hidden. We'll have to find another way in."

"The
merchant said we should try the east wall," Roland suggested.
"Do you think we can trust him?"

"He
wasn't a merchant," Malik answered. "He was a smuggler, and
not a very good one. He thought that we were smugglers too, which
tells me everything I need to know. There are certain rules that
govern how smugglers treat each other. Otherwise they would just kill
each other all the time, and no one would profit from that. So I know
that we can trust some of his information, but not all. I even know
what information we can trust and what we can't."

"What
do you mean?" Roland asked. "I listened to the entire
conversation, and I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. It just
sounded like two merchants exchanging pleasantries to me."