She closed her eyes.
How many lives does that wretched man have?
He’s enjoying his last,
Tor assured her.
I’m going after him.
Alone?
Saxon was hit too. I must tend to him.
Her eyes flew open at this news.
I’ll help you.
The truth was she was at this moment too weak to even lift her head from the Forest floor. She winced from the pain at her shoulder.
Be still, Alyssa. You may yet suffer the fevers from that wound and you need to just let it heal and save your strength.
The Flames had finished their task. They sang and Tor thanked them. It seemed only he understood their language.
Cloot’s following them. He will not get away, I promise.
What do they want with Goth?
If they’re common bandits, he probably promised them riches.
How bad is Saxon?
He’ll live but he’s going to be sore like you. We’re lucky that they were such terrible shots.
Small mercies,
she said and closed her eyes again. She drifted asleep.
Tor wished yet again he had some of the arraq liquid to ease their pain. It would heal them quickly too. But his satchel had been stolen and with it the precious vial he had used with such care.
Much later, a fire lit, both patients woke up to find themselves laid out in the back of the cart which the bandits had decided not to take.
Tor helped them both to sit up. ‘Drink lots of this,’ he said, handing them each a clay jar. ‘All of it,’ he cautioned.
Alyssa tasted various herbs mingling with nettles and grasses. It was the right brew to help them through the fevers should they visit. Her head throbbed too.
‘What news?’ Saxon croaked. He began to shiver and realised he would spend the rest of this night sweating it out as his body fought off infection.
‘They’ve made camp north of here. Apparently, they’ve also broken cover of the Forest to try and throw off Cloot but he’s too wily for them.’
‘What are you planning, Tor?’ Alyssa asked.
‘To see you both through this night first,’ he answered. ‘Then I shall catch up with Cloot and our new friends.’
Tyne would not hear of them leaving. He also did not want to give up his chance to earn money from Themesius.
‘One more show,’ he begged. ‘We’ll leave this morning and go straight to Brittelbury. We can hold the show there tomorrow night.’
It was tempting.
‘But what about your other shows?’ Gidyon asked.
‘Of no matter. I’ll make enough with this one if I promote it along the way. Now make haste. We travel in one hour.’
He left them no chance to change his mind.
Themesius scratched his head. ‘Better this way don’t you think, Figgis?’
‘I do. Keeps us out of harm’s way as well. The lad has a happy knack of getting into bother,’ he said and they laughed at Gidyon’s scowl.
Tyne was as good as his word and within the hour, the first of the caravans drew out of the town and headed west towards Brittelbury.
‘What do you do in the show?’ Gidyon wondered to Themesius.
‘I just walk out…and everyone’s jaws drop open.’
Figgis enjoyed this, chuckling to himself. ‘A showstopper, eh? Well, perhaps Gidyon and I can make a special contribution. What do you think?’ he said.
‘I have an idea already,’ Gidyon said, not offering to reveal anything further.
On their journey, and particularly as they began to pass through outlying villages from Brittelbury, Tyne made regular stops, calling into inns and promoting the
Greatest Show in the Land
as he liked to call it. At each stop the performers were encouraged to remain hidden so none of the secrets were revealed.
‘If people want to see our freaks, they’ll have to pay.’ It was his favourite saying.
As it turned out Brittelbury was a decent-sized town. No wonder Tyne felt he could risk missing his other planned stops as long as he could show off his star attraction here. People waved and welcomed them in and once again the ‘freaks’ hid themselves. Tyne posted hired guards around the perimeter of the Green where they would perform in order to prevent snoopers from getting an early look at the acts.
‘Figgis, you’ll have to remain here,’ Gidyon suggested. ‘You’re too much like one of the attractions
to go walking about the town and risk Tyne’s despair.’
The Paladin nodded. ‘You may be right. How will you find her?’
‘I’m not sure. Start asking questions, I suppose.’
‘What about tonight?’
‘I’ll be back in time, I promise.’
‘Straight back,’ Figgis cautioned with a stern face.
Gidyon ticked off his tasks. ‘Get my stone, kiss the girl, back to the freak show.’
‘Good lad,’ Themesius said, his huge laugh bellowing. ‘Are you going to tell us how we shall entertain the masses tonight?’
A smile broke across Gidyon’s face. ‘A balancing act like no one has ever seen before,’ he said, tapping his nose knowingly. ‘No need to practise, leave it all to me. Oh, and Themesius, ask Tyne if we can borrow the Fat Lady.’
‘Whatever for?’
‘You’ll see,’ he said and opened the tent flap, emerging into the sharp sunlight.
He squinted. Where should he head first? Gidyon decided to walk and see where he found himself. Brittelbury was larger than he expected and so he guessed it was unlikely Yseul would be found wandering about in the town unless she had work here. He headed towards the first inn, gingerly sipping on a watered ale for a while and getting a feel for the place. It was clearly a busy and thriving town; there was a rough quality to it which he presumed came from living in such an unforgiving region with the Rork’yel Mountains looming in the distance. Back out in the main street, people went about their business with little
interest in strangers, who seemed an integral part of the transient nature of this town. People obviously used it as a last watering hole before heading west across mainly uninhabited countryside towards Ildagarth or perhaps further north still into Kyrakavia.
To make one’s way west from here meant either moving directly through the northern finger of the Great Forest, or, as most people chose to do, taking the long way around it and skimming the lowest reaches of the mountain range, on a long and often cheerless journey.
Gidyon felt empty. He had not eaten since the previous sundown and whatever he had consumed had been returned at dawn. Now his belly roared its hunger and he went in search of food. He walked towards the marketplace where he could see all sorts of wares on sale with people calling out their prices and attesting to the quality. It was a lively, colourful place and it seemed so normal…something very lacking in his life. His nose picked up the smell of meat roasting and he turned to see an eating house where rows of tables and chairs were set up outside under a makeshift awning of canvas. It was still quite early in the day and yet this place was doing a brisk business. He squeezed into a corner table, trying to tuck his very long legs away from the traffic of the serving women and waited. Soon enough a woman stopped and asked him what he would like.
‘There’s chickens coming out of the oven now,’ she suggested.
He nodded. ‘Perfect. Bread?’
‘Of course. Can I bring you an ale?’
‘Er…no thanks. Milk, please.’
She looked at him sideways. ‘Milk?’
The smell of the ale at the inn convinced him he had consumed enough for a lifetime…or so he thought at that moment. ‘Please,’ he said, trying to ignore the smirk which had appeared on her face.
‘Don’t get much call for milk here. I’ll see what I can do,’ she said.
He leaned back, arms behind his head and looked about him. The tables were now all taken, predominantly with men; once they had ordered their jugs of ale, he noticed they all got quickly involved in a rowdy game. It seemed to be a combination of dice and cards. He watched with such interest, he hardly noticed when his meal was set before him.
‘We milked old Betsy out the back for you,’ the woman serving said as she placed it on the table. If she was expecting a response from Gidyon, her barb failed to hit its target because he was intent on watching a particularly boisterous game in front of him.
‘Oh…er thanks,’ he said. He was devilishly handsome but no fun at all, she thought.
Gidyon caught her arm. ‘Sorry, can you tell me what they’re playing?’
‘Light! Where do you hail from, stranger?’
He shrugged. ‘A monastery.’ He said the first thing that came into his head but had no idea how close to the truth it was.
‘That figures,’ she said, hand on hip. ‘Explains the milk. They play Hari. This is a Hari House but I guess you didn’t know that. Mark my words—don’t get involved. For the inexperienced, you’ll lose everything you own including the boots on your feet.’
‘They aren’t worth much,’ he admitted, turning on his best smile.
She could not help but return it and he was saved from further conversation by someone calling her. ‘I’m coming,’ she yelled. ‘If you find yourself alone later, come by.’
He sipped his milk, deliberately ensuring he had a ring of it around his lips. She left, a look of distaste at the edges of her mouth. That got rid of you, he thought, enjoying the taste of the warm chicken. He dipped the bread into the bird’s roasting juices and concentrated hard on the game of Hari which was being replicated at various tables around him. It was a fast and furious game, and not only the participants bet on the outcome. The tables were attracting other betting folk. He had no idea of the rules but he began to understand the rhythm of the game and quickly worked out who was cheating. It was the man at the end of the table. He had a bright smile and played with the casual air of someone who really was not paying attention. He joked and chatted with those around him and always seemed to be lagging in playing his next card or rolling the die. By the time Gidyon had finished his meal, cleaned up the juices and drained his milk, he essentially understood that Hari was not so much a game of chance as one of bluff. If you could cheat, as the man at the end was doing, that increased the opportunity of winnings tenfold. He did it by having a partner in the audience, perhaps several even, who used some sort of signal to indicate which cards were moving where in the rapid game. Gidyon hated dishonesty but he was impressed at how well the man did it.
The player was as cunning as he was crooked. He did not down his cards every round with a winning hand. His wins were small and subtle. Gidyon noticed also that as the sun rose higher and the day got warmer, the players drank more, as did the audience. The consumption of liquor was great for business and also for the cheat who did not have to be so careful any more. For every jar of ale each of his companion players consumed, he sipped perhaps half a cup. Although the man pretended to be intoxicated, his eyes were sharp.
Just when Gidyon thought he had the cheat completely worked out, the man lost everything he had won in a single round. Gidyon was shocked. All that effort wasted. They slapped him on the back and made jokes about his terrible calls and his shocking rolls of the die. It all became clear in the next moment as the now very merry players decided to have one last round for the highest possible stakes. All the other tables stopped to watch this particular round by the big spenders. The stake required to play was high…too rich for one player; they began to ask around for anyone who cared to take his place.
Gidyon stuck his hand in the air. ‘Ho! I will,’ he said, and gave them a crooked grin as though he was a bit slow.
A roar of approval followed. He was quickly welcomed to a place around the table.
‘Your purse?’ someone asked.
Gidyon dropped a pouch of heavy coins onto the table. Then he produced a second with a rather sheepish grin and then a loud belch for good measure. He yawned. The cheat smiled at him. This one was no threat.
‘I’m meant to go to market today,’ Gidyon admitted to the bearded fellow next to him, ‘but I’m feeling lucky,
perhaps I can impress father by coming home with a bulging purse.’
It was the cheat’s turn to deal. So well-planned, Gidyon thought.
‘Er, wait,’ he said, holding up proceedings. ‘I don’t know the rules.’
It did not silence the now gathered mob but it might as well have. People looked at him aghast.
‘I’m from a monastery.’ He shrugged an apology.
‘But you spoke about your family…your father and the heavy purse?’ his neighbour queried.
‘Oh I see. I meant the Abbott, we call him Father.’
Men cleared throats and grumbled around him.
‘All right, lad,’ the cheat said. ‘No harm done and his money’s already in so we can’t let him go now.’
Gidyon smiled inwardly. He knew the cheat would not be able to bear the thought of losing out on the pile of coins clinking in the pouch.
‘I’m a f-f-fast learner,’ he said, enjoying his embellishment of the stutter.
People around him shook their heads and suddenly felt sorry for him. There was no way the lad was leaving this table with money in his pocket. Others just laughed and Gidyon joined them; he really did appear a simpleton.
It was the cheat who once again claimed order. In a quiet voice, he explained the basic rules.
Gidyon nodded. ‘R-righto, I have it,’ he said, before the man had taken a breath following his explanation.
‘There are subtleties,’ the cheat cautioned and looked as though he was about to explain some of those as well when Gidyon put his hand in the air.
‘Don’t worry, I’m feeling very l-lucky today. S-s-say no more.’ He yawned again.
The cheat smiled. ‘Is everyone ready now?’
Grunts of agreement were heard and furious betting from the onlookers commenced. The cheat dealt. Gidyon picked up his hand of seven cards knowing the task ahead was to achieve the highest scoring pack; the maximum of which was three suns and four dragons. That was hardly ever achieved of course and instead combinations of suns, moons, stars, dragons, gryphons, winged horses and various wild cards could make the winning hand. Gidyon wanted the three plus four combination of the sun and dragon. At present he had one sun, a moon, two stars, two dragons and a jewel. It was not a bad hand and he wondered if the cheat had contrived to give him a sense of early security. Everyone laughed at the way he peeped at his cards and then held them tightly to his chest.
Gidyon summoned his Colours and pushed as he opened up his cards to look at them in a more regular way. He immediately heard grumbling behind him and he also noticed the cheat rubbing at his eyes. Gidyon wondered how blurry the cards looked to the cheat and knew the poor chap behind would not be able to see a thing.
The round began. The cheat rolled the die blinking several times and got a three which meant three cards had to be exchanged from each hand to their left, whether the other players wanted to or not. And so it went. Gidyon had worked out that the cheat not only knew what was coming his way but what others were receiving and even how their hands were shaping up. Not at the moment, though. All of his carefully placed
helpers were rubbing their eyes and finding it difficult to make out the cards they were spying on.
‘Hold,’ the cheat said. ‘I have something in my eye.’ He stood and rubbed hard, even dousing his shirttail with ale and cleaning his eyes.
Gidyon smiled. This was going to be fun, he thought, as he rolled the die and it landed on precisely the number he wanted. Another push and everyone around the table exchanged two cards in the way he wished.
It would not take long.
Later, whistling to himself and strolling through the market, Gidyon put all of his senses on alert. His purse was now three maybe four times as heavy as it had been when he set off from the caravans and he knew he had made some enemies this day. He would need to be watchful. It was past noon and Gidyon had wasted many of his precious hours at the Hari House. Still, he would give undivided attention now to finding Yseul. He began to stroll amongst the rows of market stalls hoping to engage someone in conversation and start asking questions. Gidyon did not think the cheat and his friends would catch up with him as fast as they did but he was not surprised to see the familiar face with the keen eyes waiting for him at the end of one row. He turned and saw men he remembered from around the Hari table, blocking the other end. There was no easy escape route and so he summoned his Colours, keeping them ready for his call. He strolled casually up towards the cheat and nodded.