by Allan Joyal
I coughed to cover up a laugh. The two dwarves just stared at Heather for a second, but she smiled innocently.
"There's one more problem," Serglim said. He moved the pointer to the region of the map between the second fork and the city containing the Wizard's Academy. "This is an area of rich farmland, and last I heard three different monarchs were claiming it. There will be armies in the region. Travel with care, and be willing to leave the road."
"Leave it? Wouldn't they pursue us as spies if we left the road?" I asked.
Kolfaex snorted. "You've got a trade token right?"
"How? What?"
"If you didn't have one, you wouldn't have found our offices so early in the morning," Kolfaex said. "In fact you might still be outside trying to enter the city. But that's not the issue."
Serglim held up his free hand. "What my clan brother is saying is that no merchant or trade group would remain on the road if an army was approaching them. The army might pursue you, but as long as you have that token and some goods to trade, you'll be safe."
I sighed. "We don't have anything to trade."
"Nothing?" Kolfaex said.
I emptied my pockets onto the map. The pouch of coins was opened and spilled. It was clear we were down to eight of the silver drachma coins and the one red gold one. Beyond that I had the trade token, and the token for Montferlyn's. I pointed to the Montferlyn's token. "I was hoping to use that to obtain travel food and boots for everyone. We have some other things we'd like to get if we can."
The dwarves frowned. "It that all?" Serglim asked.
Herfin came back out; he set a hammer on the ground next to my chair and then looked back at Serglim. Serglim just pointed at the floor.
I thought. "We have two knives, a spear, an axe, but those are our only weapons. We do have some packs and food, but not enough for a two-week walk. That's about it."
Kolfaex looked at Serglim. "That crossbow they returned is worth quite a bit, and the information on the armor even more," Kolfaex stated.
Serglim frowned. "I know. Ron, how much can your group carry?"
I sighed. "We have fifteen people, and no pack animals. However, Steve and I have been going without packs so we can protect the group. And we have one member who was attacked by an animal and is still recovering her strength. With the gear we already have, I have to admit we can't carry that much."
Serglim sighed causing his beard to flutter. "Herfin, these humans have done the dwarves a big favor, and we need to pay them back. Go to the secure storeroom and bring back three jars of glow weed, one of phantom caps, and a bag of mithril nuggets."
"Mithril?" Heather asked. "Isn't that really valuable?"
Serglim laughed. "Sure if you put it in a furnace and melt it down, but that requires having enough to make something. This bag won't weigh as much as that pouch of coins you brought into the room. I guess you could forge it into a hairpin for a lady to use as a last resort defense, but that would be a waste. There are some spells the wizards cast that require mithril. So you should be able to get a decent price for that small bag when you reach the Academy. And having it will prove you are traders."
"And paint a big target on us," I said. "If it's that valuable."
Serglim shook his head as Herfin dashed off. "Not really. Not many humans can obtain mithril, and your having it will show that you've met with dwarves and are considered a dwarf friend. No king will be happy if his men cut you down. We can't protect you, but they know we will happily avenge you."
"None bears a grudge better than a dwarf," Kolfaex muttered.
I nodded at this. "Thanks, this will definitely help. Is there anything more we can do for you?"
The two dwarves looked at each other. They sat quietly for a moment and then Serglim shrugged. "You did a lot already. Many humans would have demanded far more for the crossbow and the news about the armor."
Kolfaex growled. "Definitely for the news about the armor. The armor belongs to the families of the dead. Stupid Lord Jestwyn. He was warned that several large tribes of troglodytes had invaded the mountains. I'm surprised the village up there isn't attacked."
"Well, we found the dead a full day's travel away from the village, and the other group took even longer to arrive. They may have tried to follow the road. All we know is that we didn't see them again until the morning after we reached the village," Heather said.
"Never mind," Serglim said. The two dwarves got to their feet. Kolfaex started to fold the map as Herfin brought out a small pack and handed it to me.
The dwarves were walking away from the table, so Heather and I gathered up the items. Heather held onto the crossbow and quiver, while I picked up the hammer. With the pack in my hands the hammer was awkward, but I managed to slip it under my left arm. I was trying to figure out if we could carry more when Heather spoke.
"We need to take this back to the inn and then come back to visit Montferlyn's," she said. This matched my assessment and I sighed.
"I really don't want to have to fight through those crowds," I admitted.
"You staying on the trader's lane?" I heard Kolfaex ask. I looked up and he had taken up a position near the entrance.
"Yes, at the Gilded Bass," I said. "It was recommended to us."
Kolfaex snorted. "They aren't very friendly to dwarves there, but we could have Herfin and a couple others take the gifts there."
"You are doing too much for us," I said.
"Nonsense!" Kolfaex snorted. "If you don't leave town with our gifts, it would dishonor our clan. And all the dwarves know of the thieves that swarm the chaos that is the human market. Allow us to ensure the safety of our gifts."
Heather looked at me and shrugged. "It would help," I admitted. I held out the pack as Herfin and two other dwarves walked up. They collected the goods and turned to the door.
"Do you have others of your party at the inn?" Kolfaex asked.
"Several," Heather said in a huff. "But the best ones to hand the items to would be Steve or Lydia."
Herfin nodded as the trio of dwarves left the room. I stepped up to follow them, but instinctively stopped to hold my hand out to Kolfaex. He stepped back, but then reached out and grabbed my forearm. "Go in peace," he said.
I was going to say more, but he turned and walked away. Heather slipped out the door as I watched him disappear into the back of the building. When it was clear he was not going to return, I followed Heather back into the street.
Chapter 14: At Montferlyn's Warehouse
Heather was waiting for me outside in the street. She smiled as I stepped away from the building.
"Well, that went far better than it might have," she said. "They gave us some items we can use."
"It's still not enough," I said. "The trip to the Wizard's Academy will be difficult."
Heather nodded. "Well, perhaps we can get the rest of the gear we need at Montferlyn's. I know I'm looking forward to having something on my feet."
I nodded. Heather just giggled and put her arm through mine. She nudged me forward, and we walked arm-in-arm the short distance down the road to the merchant's building.
Several people walking by stared at Heather as she walked alongside me. More than once the looks had a hint of disapproval. I ignored the glares, but once we got to the door of the warehouse, I slipped my arms free.
Heather snorted and stomped her foot as I opened the door and stepped inside.
The inside of the house was constricted. There was an open area just inside about ten feet deep. Then there was a long countertop. A man standing on the far side of the counter was leaning against it while reviewing a scroll. He looked up as I stepped through the door.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Ron. A couple of days ago, my companions and I ran into a caravan. There was an altercation. After the altercation the master of the caravan gave me a token," I said. I was speaking quickly as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the token, laying it on the counter.
The man pi
cked up the token and looked at it. He appeared a bit surprised. "Montger!" he shouted, turning his head to throw his voice deeper into the warehouse. "We have a token!"
There was a moment of silence then a deep scratchy voice replied. "A token? What did my idiot grandnephew get involved in this time?" A faint tapping could be heard from the chambers behind the counter.
The tapping slowly became louder, and then a long staff emerged through an open doorway. The taps were synchronized with the movement of the staff as it inched forward and was set back down. The motive power of the staff was the oldest man I had seen since we first arrived in Jord.
He was bent and stooped with age. His full height was impossible to judge. His skin was gray and wrinkled. He took slow and measured steps as he made his way to the counter. The man there waited until he had finished approaching and put out a hand.
The token I had set on the counter dropped into the old man's hand. He lifted it up until it was perhaps an inch from his eyes and then slowly scanned it.
"It's Montcern's," he said with a snort. "Where did it come from?"
The man from the counter waved a hand towards me. "This man here brought it."
The old man turned his attention towards me. Heather stifled a gasp as he stared at us. His eyes were almost pure white, the iris and pupil faded and hard to discern. "You?" he demanded.
I sighed. "Two days ago we were traveling on one of the caravan roads, approaching Linktrum. We encountered a caravan, and several of the guards accosted us. There was an altercation. After that, the master of the caravan gave me the token."
"Montcern and his inexpensive guards," the man snorted. "They end up costing us more due to the fights they start than my idiot nephew saves. He should just accept that he needs to pay more and get rid of the rogues he uses."
Heather touched her hand to my shoulder. "What does the token mean?" she asked.
"A woman!" the younger man spat. "Sir, this is a respectable establishment! We don't traffic in whores here. What is the meaning of this?"
The old man smacked the younger over the head. Heather lunged at him as well. I grabbed her around the waist and spun her around. She was hissing in fury.
"Heather! We need their goodwill. Calm down! He doesn't understand!" I commanded.
My young friend refused to calm for several seconds, scratching at my arms and pounding against my hands. I struggled as I pushed her towards the door. Finally, I reached the door and shoved her through. "Stay out until you calm down," I hissed.
I slammed the door and then turned back to the two men. "You insulted that young lady," I informed the man flatly. "She's no whore."
The old man looked more closely at me. "And you aren't from any of the nearby kingdoms. Neither is that young lady. My grandnephew isn't a complete fool. Tokens like that one are only given to other trading bands. Are you part of one?"
I looked at the young man. He had a look of disgust on his face. The old man seemed quietly interested. I pulled out the token the road guard had given me. "I had this and showed it to your grandnephew, if he was the master of the caravan we met."
The young man snatched the token from my hands and examined it. He gave a snort of disbelief and handed it to the old man. Once again the man had to bring it close to his eyes to view it.
He seemed a bit puzzled. "Daytona Trade? I've never heard of that outfit," he said as he placed the token back on the counter.
"A road guard gave us the token the morning of the day we met your grandnephew."
The old man nodded. "And am I right? Are you from far away?"
"Farther away than most can imagine. We aren't sure, but we think a miscast wizard spell somehow summoned us here. Well, not to Linktrum. We arrived in the mountains."
"So what do you want for the token?"
"Boots, travel gear and food that can last three weeks or so," Heather said from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her standing there glaring at me.
"Get out whore!" the young man spat.
The old man smacked him with the staff. "Montwil! Have you not paid attention? They are from someplace far away. It's obvious that women have more opportunities there."
I coughed to cover a laugh. The young man glared at me. "What?"
"Montger is right," I replied. "The land we are from offers a lot more opportunities to women. Our group actually has nearly twice as many women as men right now."
Heather giggled. "True, but we're just the escorts. Ron here has handled the trading so far."
I turned to say something, but she grabbed me and whispered. "It would be impossible to explain Elizabeth."
I nodded. The old man was rubbing his chin. "So you need boots and travel gear? That does not seem impossible. Boots might be difficult though. I'm assuming you want them sized to fit the feet of the wearers."
"We only have a few days before we plan on traveling on. We plan to travel to the Wizard's Academy to see if they can help send us home," I replied.
Montger looked at the young man. He seemed to be considering something. "Where are you staying?" he asked.
"The Gilded Bass," I replied. "One of the guards at the gate recommended it. We have claimed a room for the next four days."
"Montwil," the old man commanded. "You'll need to get some porters. Go over there with thirty pair of boots in different sizes and make sure every member of Daytona Trade finds one that fits. After that, you'll make another trip with trade goods and rations." He looked at the clothing we were wearing.
"How many in your group?" he asked me.
"Right now we will leave Linktrum with five men and ten women," I said. "We had one more woman, but she is going to stay at the Gilded Bass as a serving girl."
Montwil gasped. Montger just tapped him on the head again. "And go find that seamstress sister of yours and have her bring clothing for all."
"That's too much," I gasped.
"Let me decide that," Montger said. "If we don't do right by the token, it affects trade negotiations in all lands. You're asking a lot less than you could."
Heather grabbed my arm. Her insistent pull got me to turn my head to look at her. "Demand more," she hissed.
I shook my head. "No. The insult was not that great," I said. "We should not become greedy."
The old man laughed. "Keep that thought while you trade. My family has been running caravans for seven generations, because we understand that turning our suppliers and customers into beggars is bad for business. For now, go to the inn, we'll bring everything there."
Montger turned to the young man. Instructions about what to take to the inn spewed from his mouth. I could see Montwil's eyes glaze slightly as he tried to keep up with the pace of the conversation. Quietly I tapped Heather on the shoulder and then headed to the door.
She followed me out, looking back at the duo as the door closed. Once it did, I started walking towards the main street and the crowds. "Why didn't you demand more?" she asked.
"We're already getting more than we expected," I replied. "If they come through with what they say, we'll have enough to get to the Wizard's Academy."
"True, the dwarves did help by showing us the map," Heather said as we reached the edge of the street. "Fuck, I don't want to claw my way through the crowds again."
"It must be market day," I said. "Well, we can't avoid it; sharpen your elbows and let's make like Moses."
I thrust myself into the crowds, using my elbows as levers to push people aside. The crowd parted reluctantly. Heather followed close behind me, cursing when someone stepped on one of her feet.
We continued to fight our way through the crowd. Hands grabbed at my belt as I shoved people aside. I tried to target the grabbers with swinging elbows. There were some muttered curses uttered as I moved on, but if they were for my elbows or the lack of a pouch that could be cut, I did not know. Finally, the last rank of people parted, and I was able to step into the alleyway where the Gilded Bass had its back door.
I turned around to
see Heather knee one man in the crotch and then follow up by smashing her other knee into his jaw. He fell over with a groan and two rotted and brown teeth tumbled to the ground. Heather ignored his fall, stomping past me while shouting about the questionable ancestry of her former attacker as well as the rest of the city.
I stood and watched her as she headed directly to the back door of the Gilded Bass and disappeared inside. Her monologue of curses and complaints stopped once she was inside. Turning back I found the man she had fought off still lying on the ground. I was about to walk over to him when I felt a hand on my arm.
"Ignore him," I heard one of the guards say. "He's not going to want to admit to anyone how he got hurt. If you wake him, he might decide to kill you to keep the story quiet."
"What story?" I asked.
The guard pointed at the man lying on the ground. "The story of how he ended up lying there, missing teeth and with a very sore..."
I held up a hand to stop the talk before he completed. "Say no more. I get it. If he thinks no one noticed, he can claim he fell."
"And with that in mind, you should not be here when he wakes," the guard said before fading away into the shadows.
I turned and started walking to the inn, looking around and not spotting the three guards I knew were watching.
Leaving the guards behind, I entered the courtyard area of the Gilded Bass.
"I can't believe this!" I heard Lydia moan quietly. "Eddie gets dragged back here from wherever he stayed and dumped in the courtyard."
Looking up, I found Lydia and Steve standing around and looking at the prone body of Eddie. He was on his back, but the slight motion of his stomach showed that he was still breathing. "What's up?" I asked.
Steve looked over at me. "He was brought back about a half hour ago. From what I can tell he's passed out drunk."
"He better be," Lydia snorted. "His breath has to be flammable. I don't know where he found the alcohol, but he drank way too much."
Steve snorted. "The men who dragged him in said he spent the night with some wealthy widow. The way they said it, he better not try to go back."