The Bonding (The Song and the Rhythm) (14 page)

Coming out of the song, and despite his blurry vision, Vaun did notice a rather odd group of travelers in the room. There were about five of them, and they sat at a table directly across the room from his own. What caught his eye was the patch one wore and the greasy hair of another. They didn’t seem to be very nice fellows, and they kept glancing at his table. Not thinking it overly suspicious, for Vaun realized he stared just as much, the youth let his eyes return to the rest of the tavern and his mind wander back into the bard’s tale.

Swordsmen had come and gone since the beginning of time. None had lived a quiet life. Some had fought for good, some for evil. All had left their mark on the world. Some had resisted their calling, seeing their skills as more curse than gift. Others had abused their power and sought only destruction. Some claimed this was why no sword had been Bonded in so many ages.

No two Swordsmen had ever lived at the same time, and a Swordsman only Bonded one sword. Still dangerous without it, a Swordsman was said to be “a legion unto himself” with his Bonded sword. A Swordsman knows his sword as one knows a lover, and dances with it as at a wedding feast.

When his gaze swept back to his immediate surroundings again, he noticed the tavern girl who’d been giving him looks all night walking over to his table again. Vaun found his throat dry and drank more ale.

“And would the Swordsman and his friends like anything else?” Her sweet smile made her hazel eyes sparkle warmly as she looked at Vaun.

The drunken youth stared uncomprehendingly at her, not knowing if she’d said that merely to flirt, or if she’d even meant him. His companions had all frozen in place, Thorne with his ale cup halfway to his lips and Rush with his spoon still in his mouth.
Hadn’t the elf eaten already?
They all regarded each other as if a secret had been given away.

“Ummm…no. No thank you. We have all we need.” Drath smiled at her as he handed her the balance of their bill.

The girl winked at Vaun as she cleared off their empty plates. When she left, everyone at the table popped back into motion, as if released suddenly from one of Merdel’s spells.

Vaun stared after the serving girl until she was lost in the press of tavern goers. “What’d she mean by that?” His voice slurred and sounded a bit too loud, but that didn’t stop him from trying to find out what was going on. He thought her words strange indeed but had really been wondering how to use what she thought of him as a way to pick her up. He shook himself at that, shocked to discover he’d half-risen to try out his method, and sat back unsteadily in his chair, looking to his friends for an answer to his question.

“What did she mean by what?” Drath tried to appear ignorant of what Vaun referred to.

Vaun glowered, convinced Drath hid something. That, and he wondered if Merdel had put another spell on him, despite the wizard’s promise not to. “You know exactly what I mean. She called me a Swordsman!”

“Keep your voice down.” Drath glanced around to make sure no one had heard the outburst. “Rumors of Swordsmen spread quickly, and false ones tend to bring bad luck on those believed responsible for them. To some, lying about being a Swordsman is a worse crime than being one.”

“I know that. But she still called me one.”

“I believe you, but I don’t know why she said it. Perhaps she was only flirting.” The tall man shrugged. “Maybe you should go ask her.”

“Thash a good idea.” Vaun lurched up to go after her but didn’t make it halfway out of his chair before the room swayed unnaturally. Anger rose momentarily at the impudence of the room in trying to keep him from talking to this girl, but it was quickly followed by a wave of nausea. Clutching his head, he lost his balance and fell, banging his forehead on the table top as he went down. He had a brief glimpse of Dart handing something shiny to Rush before the world exploded.

*
*
*

Vaun’s face was pinched in a painful grimace when he came down for breakfast the next morning. Awakened by a vicious headache, he discovered Drath had let him oversleep and dressed hurriedly to make up for the lost time. He attempted to straighten his disheveled clothing, but his head protested the extra movement. He had an ugly knot in the middle of his forehead whose origin he couldn’t figure out. He felt ready to face the new day, however, if he could stand the grin on Thorne’s broad face. The dwarf was the only one he recognized at the table. None of his other friends were present.

“Happy Birthday, Vaun Tarsus.” Thorne smiled even wider. The other people sitting nearby smiled at Vaun and murmured similar greetings. The dwarf seemed terribly amused at something.

Vaun grinned wryly, making his head pound even more. His mind tried to replay what he’d done last night, but he found the memory too painful to hold. He also found that pieces of it were missing, and those pieces struck him for some reason as important. He did, however, thank the dwarf for his dubious gift and realized he’d forgotten that yesterday was his birthday.

Thorne smiled again. “No need to thank me. ’Twas Drath’s idea. He felt, as did I, that every man should get excessively drunk when celebrating his survival for another year.” He paused. “How’s your head?”

The dwarf’s grin stretched across his entire face while the others at the table began sniggering and laughing. Vaun winced in embarrassment and swallowed several times in an effort to find his voice, which was noticeably strained. “Could you cut it off for me?”

Thorne nodded. “I could, but then we’d miss all the fun.” He couldn’t hold back anymore and bellowed with laughter, as did the men around him. They all consoled the young man about his hangover and assured him it would pass. Some even suggested drowning it with more ale. The thought of that nearly made the youth vomit on the spot.

As Vaun lowered himself gingerly into a seat across from him, Thorne nudged him. “Soon as you finish your breakfast, we’ll head t’the market. Drath’s assigned us to gather travelin’ equipment, while he and Merdel get some horses. They left earlier, as did Rush and Dart.”

Vaun nodded and looked down at the stew placed before him. He had to suppress a convulsive urge to retch and turned it into a belch instead. He heard a few people chuckle, but couldn’t risk the pain it’d cause his head to see who it was. If this was what it was to be an adult, Vaun decided he’d rather remain a teenager forever. Inhaling deeply to calm his stomach, he discovered his body odor was nearly enough by itself to make him vomit. He decided he needed a bath and a very long nap as soon as possible.

Vaun tried to eat quickly but found his stomach wouldn’t let him. If he put two spoonfuls of stew into his mouth at once, he had to fight to keep it in. Thorne noticed this and told him to take his time, since they weren’t planning to leave until the morrow. Vaun sighed gratefully and went back to eating slow enough to appease his delicate insides.

When he was almost done, it surprised him he’d been able to eat all of it. Thorne handed him a pouch that clinked. While the high-pitched noise sounded somewhat appealing, it pierced Vaun’s ears terribly, and he grimaced.

Thorne shook his head knowingly. “Drath wanted me t’ give you that, since you don’t have any money. He said you were welcome to buy whatever struck your fancy, but to be aware that you no have an endless supply.”

Vaun murmured thanks as he finished his meal and had to bite down hard on a surge of nausea. Swallowing roughly, he wondered if that were any indication of how his day was going to be. The town smelled of horses and precious little else. The aromas of horse sweat, horse dung, and anything else even remotely associated with horses permeated Vaun’s hungover senses. It wasn’t a truly bad smell as much as it was completely overwhelming.

When he had first stepped out of the tavern that morning, he had nearly gagged on the powerful odor. It surrounded him wherever he turned, making his head hurt worse and his stomach turn somersaults. It only began to weaken after a couple of hours as his body became familiar with it, and he only noticed it when he and Thorne walked through a particularly thick-scented area. Thankfully, his hangover also was receding by that time.

The streets were not overly crowded, but Vaun still found it difficult to avoid bumping into people as he followed Thorne. Each jostle made his head pound with renewed pain and his stomach lurch. He swiftly decided he could do without drinking.

He saw many travelers besides himself bearing weapons and haggling with the myriad of merchants that dominated the squares. The volume of the sellers’ voices increased even more when a potential buyer stopped to inspect their wares. One such merchant nearly screamed at Vaun when the youth had stopped to look over some traveling equipment, the most common items being sold. The man’s foul breath and loud voice nearly caused Vaun to retch on the “rare and valuable items.” He swallowed deeply, however, and managed not to ruin the leather goods displayed before him.

Even though Landsby was a small town, it boasted some rare silks and rugs for sale at rather outrageous prices. Vaun guessed that the fame of the town’s horses brought enough people that even these costly items found buyers. The youth became curious to know from where all such merchandise came, and he hoped someday to be able to identify the origin of every item sold in any town he visited.

The young man did little more than aid in carrying everything Thorne bought. The dwarf purchased item after item, making Vaun wonder how it was all going to fit onto the horses. Thorne seemed to know his business, though. He moved rapidly from one stall to the next, carefully inspecting the merchandise before choosing the best and bargaining heatedly for a lower price. The dwarf seemed to be a good haggler, as he paid what price he wanted almost every time, and he instructed Vaun on the fine points of the art as well as a few other things as they continued their shopping.

Vaun found that the only things he tended to buy were various food items. He couldn’t seem to slacken his hunger, despite his earlier reluctance to even look at food, so he kept buying a piece of fruit, a wedge of cheese, or a meat pie to appease his constantly rumbling belly. To wash down what he devoured, he bought water or wine. Thanks to the headache that was only just now diminishing, he couldn’t bring himself to drink any more ale, ignoring Thorne’s claims that it was some of the best to be found. After a brief period, the cycle of eating would repeat itself, and Vaun wondered if food was going to be the only thing he ever bought. That was until they passed a stand selling better weapons than most others, and sharpening stones as well.

Vaun handed the three well-stuffed bags he carried to Thorne before inspecting the daggers and whetstones arrayed on the table. A yellow canvas awning stretched over four poles covered the stand, blocking out most of the sun’s blinding glare. Its bright color also helped dampen the heat, and the cool breeze blowing through it carried away the thick stench of horses and people.

The seller, spying a potentially easy buy, glided smoothly over to where Vaun stood. “And what will you be wanting?”

He was a portly, balding man with a broad face and a long black mustache. A large patch of pink skin above his left eye covered the front quarter of his head. He rubbed his hands together and played with the ends of his mustache as he waited for Vaun to choose something.

Vaun ignored the man, trying to imitate the way Thorne did it, and intently studied the dagger he’d picked up. It was larger than his throwing dagger, although it had good balance and could probably be thrown with some accuracy. He tested the edge, point, and make, finding all quite good. He wasn’t sure how he knew; he just did. He liked the small red stone embedded in the hilt best, though he doubted it was a real ruby. That would surely make the price go up, real or not, but Vaun was pleased with his selection. He looked up at the fat seller as he sheathed the dagger. “How much?”

The merchant paused, as if recognizing someone who knew what to look for in his weapons. But the gleam in his eye revealed he still assumed he could dupe someone so young. “Four silvers.”

Vaun was glad Thorne had explained the monetary system and the basic worth of things. It was a good knife, but the price the seller asked was easily twice its actual worth, even if the ruby was real. Quickly recovering his surprise, Vaun smiled amiably. “Noble sir, you misunderstood me. I merely want to purchase this one dagger, not a dozen.”

Thorne guffawed from behind him, amused at the gibe. Vaun ignored him as he tried to think of a more reasonable price; he decided to take the dwarf’s advice and start much lower than he was willing to pay. “I will give you
one
silver.”

The merchant looked surprised at Vaun’s brashness in naming a price so low, and his companion’s laughter was horribly inappropriate. He passed one pudgy hand over his mottled scalp and recovered his astonishment, determined not to be out-bargained by a mere youth. Archibald the Haggler never admitted defeat.

“One mere silver?” he moaned as if the world was ending. “You seek to rob an honest merchant. I could not part with it for less than three.”

Vaun was again surprised at the high price but remembered Thorne’s lessons.
They start high, you start low, ’tis how the game begins. Frustrate him with a teasing remark, and you can easily triumph.
He wondered if he could out-maneuver this obviously experienced merchant, and took a second to think of a strategic riposte. “’Tis a good dagger, indeed, but worth no more than a single silver.” He wondered if he’d managed to sound like Thorne.

The merchant wailed at the prospect of accepting such a modest sum, and inquired of passersby if they noticed how horribly this wretched young man tried to rob him. No one listened, and neither did they answer the man’s inquiry into what kind of dark, unforgiving conscience the youth had. He then named another price, only slightly lower, which Vaun countered again with his own complaint of being robbed.

After almost five minutes, Vaun managed to win the dagger and a whetstone for one silver and eleven copper pieces, just a few shy of its actual value but still more than the merchant had probably paid for it.