Fortress Draconis (5 page)

He snorted and decided to say nothing instead of letting Crow know he was right. That really annoyed Will about the two of them. When Resolute was right, he would hammer Will with that fact, over and over. But Crow, he’d just kind of slip it in like a stiletto. You wouldn’t feel it going in, he wouldn’t even twist it, but you’d know it was there when you moved against it.

They rode on, the only sounds coming from the creak of leather, the clop of hooves, the jingling of tack, or the crunch of a horse chewing a bit. Around the curve and on down they went, riding in Resolute’s wake. Ahead of them, the Vorquelf had stopped his horse in the middle of the road. Beyond him, by a hundred yards or so, a bonfire burned on the road. The fire silhouetted three men facing the Vorquelf, and Will counted five others standing on the village side of the fire.

The village itself sat astride the road. At the far end, another fire burned, cutting off the western route. Fences of stone or split rails guarded the village perimeter, but none of them came even close to being as strong as the walls of Yslin. Most of the buildings were low affairs made of sod, with thatched roofing—though the tallest, a two-story house, had a tile roof and light blazing out through sloppily hung shutters.

Resolute let the other two pull parallel with him before they continued in toward the fire. Will quickly recalled one of Resolute’s road lessons and glanced down and away from the flames. The men behind it would have no night vision, so if the trio chose to ride around it, their pursuers would be blind. Only the three men facing them would be able to see what they were doing. One wore a sword, the other two carried pitchforks.

The man with the sword raised a hand. “Hold there, strangers.”

Crow rode up toward him slowly, stopping five yards back. “Strangers? I thought the men of Alcida greeted travelers as friends.”

“Might in some other times. Who be ye, and what be you wanting in Stellin?”

“We’re just travelers, my friend, my nephew, and I. We’re heading into the mountains.” Crow kept his voice even and light. “We were hoping to find lodging and fodder here.”

The villager nodded toward Resolute. “He’s a Vorquelf?”

Resolute threw back his cloak, exposing well-muscled arms covered in dark tattoos. “That should be obvious.”

“Well, we’ll not be wanting your kind hereabouts.” The villager dropped a hand to the hilt of his sword. “You can push on and tell your mistress we’re not gonna be taken like Ingens was. We may not be big, but…”

One of the other men stepped forward, squinting, then rested a hand on the speaker’s shoulder. “I remember this one. Come through about twenty year ago. Had a woman of his kind with him, and a young fella with them. That would be you?”

Crow nodded. “We were bound into the mountains, as we are now. Has it really been twenty years?”

“Close enough, right afore Augustus’ face started showing up on coin.” The older man half smiled. “Quintus, they’ll be no trouble.”

Quintus frowned. “How can you say that?”

The old man tapped his nose. “They don’t have the stink of the pack on ‘em, and there ain’t but one Vorquelf working for Chytrine and this one ain’t her.”

“There’s trouble, it’s on your head.”

The man rubbed a rough hand back over his bald pate. “Least then there’d be something on it.”

Quintus snorted a laugh, then jerked a thumb toward the heart of town. “Hare and Hutch is our inn; they have a stable. Other travelers in, so might be the stable is full. Tell the boy to take the other horses to my barn. Be gone in the morning, will you?”

Crow nodded. “With the sunrise.”

“Then I’ll see you going out as I go in.” He gave them a nod. “The peace of Stellin be on ya, and a plague on your souls if you break it.”

Will wasn’t quite certain why Resolute didn’t demand he accompany the stableboy to take care of their horses, but he welcomed the relief from his chores. He grabbed his rolled blanket and the flaccid saddlebags that carried his threadbare change of clothes, then followed the other two into the Hare and Hutch.After so long on the road, back to normal will be good.

But the village tavern, he discovered upon entry, escaped normal by leagues. It certainly had the look of a normal tavern, with entry through a sheltered door, then steps down into the common room. One short wall of the rectangular building stood close by on the right, with a set of stairs marking the far right corner and leading up to the next floor. Huddled beneath the stairs lay the bar, and a doorway through the long wall led out to the kitchen at the back. It had a roof and a hearth, half walls and a dirt floor. The common room opened to the left, with a big hearth and roaring fire on the left wall. Benches took up those corners, with some long tables and other round ones filling the main space. Will could feel the fire’s heat from the doorway and welcomed it, though the fire did seem a bit big for a summer’s evening.

Resolute hung his cloak on the pegs by the door, dropped his bag beneath it, then relieved Crow of his burdens and likewise disposed of them. The low hum of conversation dipped for a moment, then picked up with some intensity. Will felt himself tensing, for in the Dim, the Vorquelf’s showing himself in a human haunt would have caused an immediate fight.

The added energy drained quickly from the conversation, but Will didn’t get a sense of fear holding the people at bay. As he tried to figure out what was at work, he began to notice other things, such as the floor being clean and well kept, with new boards laid down to replace old and rotted ones. As for the barkeeper, his clothes had clearly been laundered—and recently. The clientele didn’t seem drunk, and he heard no catcalls as a young woman wove her way between tables to deliver wooden tankards of frothy ale.

He finally hit upon it. The people were smiling, none of them hooding their eyes or watching their fellows for weakness. The taverns he’d known were wolves‘-dens.Here they’re sheep. Farmers, herders, working for a living, taking time here to share stories. It sent a shiver down his spine.

Crow, leaning his right flank against the bar, waved his left hand toward Resolute and Will. “We were told, my companion, nephew, and I, that you might have room available here for a night’s lodging.”

The tavernkeeper, a burly man with a ring of black hair running round his head, ran a hand over unshaved jowls. “Well, the last room, it was taken by that gentleman and his niece, but they’ve not paid as yet…. Oy, you.” He flicked a stained dishrag toward two people seated at a round table.

An older man turned toward the bar, raising an eyebrow, but Crow reached out and took hold of the barman’s wrist. “That’s all right. You’d be having space on the floor here, near the fire?”

The barman nodded. “Plenty of room there, yes; silver a head, and that gets you an ale tonight and porridge in the morning.”

“Done, then.” Crow went to open his pouch, but the barman shook his head. “We’ll settle up before you bed down. You’ll be wanting some stew, won’t you? And bread, some cheese?”

Crow nodded. “Please.”

“Have it ready in a bit.”

Crow smiled at his companions. “There we are, set for the night.”

Will nodded, barely hearing Crow. He looked around the room, eyeing each person in there. He quickly sorted prosperous from poor, which he found easy given that most of the farmers wore not so much as a ring. The prosperous had coin pouches, but most were as empty as his saddlebags. Having seen how trusting the barman was in dealing with Crow, Will assumed most of the people were drinking on credit, and that a fair amount of debt was paid off in stew-makings, cheese, and flour.

Being bumped in the back by Resolute jolted Will from his thoughts and propelled him in Crow’s wake. They threaded their way over to a circular table near the fireplace. The old man, who wore a blue cloak that had seen better days, nodded a welcome to them and waved them to the open chairs.

Crow thanked him. “I’m Crow, this is my nephew, Will, and my friend, Resolute.”

The man half rose from his chair and shook Crow’s hand, then nodded to Will and Resolute. “I am Distalus and this is my niece, Sephi. We’re on our way to Yslin, where she’ll be apprenticing to a weaver.”

Will nipped around past Crow and took the seat next to Sephi. “I’m Will.”

The girl blushed. “Sephi.” Had she been standing, she would have towered over him, and seated she still appeared taller, but Will didn’t mind. Her raven hair fell to mid-back.

Hazel eyes sparkled with reflected firelight, set in a pretty face marred only by a small scar above her right eye.

Distalus raised his mug in Crow’s direction. “That was good of you, sir, not to evict us.”

Crow shrugged easily. “We’ve been on the road, so warm will do for us. You’ve a long journey ahead, and few places will be this nice.”

Will let his saddlebags slip to the floor and dumped his cloak on top of them. “Have you been to the city before, Sephi?”

She shook her head and gave him a little smile. “My uncle says it is a wonderful place, and that I will love it.” She wrapped her small hands around the barrel of her mug. “I can hardly wait.”

The young thief smiled and was about to launch into a story of the city, when Crow elbowed him. He turned to look at his older companion. “What?”

“You’ve better things to be doing, like helping the barkeep bring us our stew.” Crow glanced at Distalus. “More ale for you, as long as Will is going to be fetching it?”

“Well, now, very kind, sir, very kind. Traveling is a dry business and Master Julian’s ale is good.”

Crow flicked two fingers toward the barman. “Two more ales, please, for our friends. Will, go.”

Will nodded, then flashed Sephi a quick smile. He got up and moved around her chair, daring to let the fingers of his left hand brush her shoulder. In paying more attention to her than where he’d tossed his cloak, he tripped and fell heavily against Distalus, catching himself before smashing his slowly healing knee into the floor.

“Beg pardon, sir.” Will pulled himself up and straightened his shirt, then made his way to the bar. He twisted his hips left and right, nipping through the narrows of chairs pushed back from tables. He made his journey a display of agility, hoping to dispel the image his fall had left in Sephi’s mind.

Julian looked at him with a critical eye. “You be spilling any of this, and you might’s well eat it off the floor, for you’re paying for it.”

“I will be careful.”

“Be double that, lad.” Julian hefted a tray of ale mugs, leaving another with stew bowls and bread for Will. The youth trailed after the barman, occasionally peeking out from behind his girth to see if Sephi was watching him. She was and giggled. Will cut around Julian and served Resolute first, then Crow and himself last. He put his bowl down where he’d have to scoot his chair closer to her to eat it, and put the bread in the middle of the table.

Julian accepted the tray from him, then trapped both of them beneath his right arm. He counted on his fingers. “Well, now, I’m making that six silvers you’re owing, sir. And you, sir, for the girl and you, lodging and ale, that’s three silvers.”

Distalus’ hand went to his belt, then he blinked and looked up. “My purse seems to be gone.”

Resolute’s silver eyes narrowed. “Boy, give it back.”

Will, who had a spoonful of stew halfway between bowl and eaten, froze. “I didn’t take it.”

“Don’t lie, boy.” The Vorquelf’s voice took on a chill “I won’t have it.”

The spoon returned to the bowl and Will slowly stood. He deliberately opened his hands and held them out away from his sides. “Search me. I didn’t take anything.”

Distalus shook his head. “I’m sure the boy didn’t… as my niece will agree, I get forgetful. Probably just in my bag in the room.”

Crow laid a hand on Resolute’s forearm, then fished a gold coin from the pouch on his belt. The coin rang solid as he flicked it with his thumb into the air. Julian caught it easily, then held it at arm’s length to study it on both sides.

“New-minted Oriosa.” The man snapped the coin down on the table, leaving the masked profile of King Scrainwood easily visible. From a pocket on his apron he pulled a short metal rod with a knob at one end and a point at the other. He pressed the small part on Scrainwood’s eye and leaned hard on the knob. The rod gouged the eye, disfiguring the face.

Julian smiled, then slipped coin and punch back into his apron pocket. “There, that will fix him. Enjoy your food. You’ve more coming if you want, or a silver yet.”

“Thank you.” Crow nodded to him. “You’re stabling our horses as well, so we will owe you more.”

With a nod the barman retreated, then Distalus raised his new mug of ale. “I’ll pay you back. I have the silver in my bags.”

“I’m not worried.”

Will frowned. In his life he’d not seen that many gold coins, and had held fewer, and not for very long. A few he’d seen had the eyes gouged or crossed on a face, but he never knew why. “What he did to that coin, why?”

Distalus’ eyes brightened. “I would have thought everyone knew the tale of how Scrainwood became a king, and where his allegiances lie.” The man raised his voice a bit, drawing attention from the tables around him, suddenly sounding much more like a storyteller than a…

/don’t know whathe is .

The man quaffed a bit of ale, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe you know, lad, maybe you don’t, but Scrainwood of Oriosa joined good King Augustus in war against Chytrine a quarter century ago. Some say Scrainwood fought, others that he never fought. Some say not too many died to protect him and others that he cowered; but none deny he was there at Fortress Draconis. And there it was he stayed, while King Augustus routed an Aurolani army in Okrannel. And he was there when the coward brought news of the heroes sent to destroy Chytrine.”

A quiet had fallen over the common room, with only the hiss and snap of the fire, or an occasional soft belch heard around Distalus’ words. The man’s eyes glowed and he smiled, looking at his listeners, nodding and smiling.

Whatever he was, it included being a storyteller, and Will didn’t mind that his question started the story. He figured he’d not been alone in not knowing, but even if he was, the story was a good one to hear and others were enjoying it.