Ellis
The sound of the door slamming behind me held an odd blend of satisfaction and fear.
I'd hated the orphanage, for just about as long as I had been there. But now that the wide grey building was behind me, I suddenly felt like I had nowhere to go. They had been kind enough to give me a few coins, maybe enough for a couple of nights in one of the cheap inns, along with a couple of plain grey dresses and shoes that pinched my toes, but other than that, I had nothing.
My feet carried me down the street while my eyes kept a lookout for places where I could make a few coins. I wasn't hopeful. I wasn't strong enough to swing a blacksmith's hammer, or talented enough to sing. Too proud to beg or whore, too pretty to fight, not pretty enough to perform.
It was no wonder that, in the fourteen years I had spent in the orphanage, nobody had wanted to adopt me. Time and again, my friends had gone off with beaming families, leaving me with nothing. As I got older, I only grew more and more isolated. Was it my fault that I started to lash out?
Lost in my thoughts, I nearly missed the inn I had been looking for. The building itself was in poor condition, with a sagging roof that tended to pool water, wooden walls that hadn't been painted in at least a decade, and window hinges so rusted they wouldn't even open.
But the price was right. If I was careful with the money I had, I could survive for a week, maybe two. If I didn't have a job by then - well, I tried not to worry about that.
I pushed open the door, and winced at the squeaks it made. The last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to myself. I had learned that much from the orphanage. Fortunately, the only one who noticed my entrance was the man behind the counter. The rest of the inn was relatively empty, which wasn't surprising considering the sun had come up just over an hour ago.
I stepped up to the counter with more confidence than I felt. "Could I get a room, please?" I asked quietly.
The man stared at me for a moment. "You a runaway or somethin'?" he said.
I shrugged in embarrassment and shook my head. "No," I said, staring at the counter.
"Hey, whatever," the man said. "Long as you can pay, I don't care. It's two cuvers a night."
I fished the coins out of the small pack that carried the few possessions I had and placed them on the table. The man scooped them up and carefully inspected the smith's stamp.
"All right," he said. "They seem genuine." He turned and grabbed a small key off the wall behind him. It felt surprisingly thin and delicate as he pressed it into my hand. At least some things in this inn were high quality. "Room 26, up the stairs to the left."
"Thanks," I said. I quickly scooped my things from the counter and headed up the stairs to the room. It was small, with little more than a bed, a table, and some chairs, but it was surprisingly clean. I dropped my meagre belongings to the floor and collapsed on the bed. It wasn't that I was tired. No, I just needed a chance to think.
In my head, I mentally prepared a list of the places I knew I had a chance of finding work. Much to my chagrin, most of the places turned out to be ones where I would have to interact with people - not my favourite activity.
Grimacing, I decided to put the search off until the next day. Surely I could get away with enjoying a single day of freedom. I remained in my room for the rest of the day, relaxing.
Later that evening, my stomach was insistent enough to make me leave my self-imposed solitude. I ventured out of my room like a nervous rabbit seeking food. I jumped slightly as I heard a loud crash from the direction of the common room. Still, hunger outweighed my shy nature, and forced me down the stairs.
The common room was packed with people. I honestly had not expected this inn to be popular enough to fill three of the tables during peak hours. From what I could see at the bottom of the stairs, not a single table was unoccupied, and people were even standing,waiting for a place to sit. Young girls in matching green and white outfits weaved among the crowd carrying trays bearing food and drink.
But what drew my attention was the girl kneeling on the ground beside the only floor space in the room clear of people - only clear because it was covered in shards of broken pottery, food, and wine. The girl was cleaning the mess and clearly trying very hard not to cry as the innkeeper towered over her, berating her for her clumsiness.
Abruptly, the man's eyes swung up and met mine. "You!" he shouted, pointing. "Can you carry a tray without spilling it?"
"I, uh- yes?" I stammered.
"You're hired." He directed a look back to the girl on the floor. "Finish cleaning that up, then get out of my inn. You've screwed up for the last time." Now the girl was crying.
Leaving her there, the innkeeper came up to me. I cringed slightly away from him. He noticed, and smiled. "My name's Taith. I'm not the ogre I appear," he said. "This is the third time that girl's been drunk at work. I can't employ girls who can't stay sober enough to walk straight."
I watched the girl walk toward the kitchen. Indeed, she seemed incapable of walking a straight line. I relaxed slightly.
"I meant what I said," Taith continued. "You can have a job here, if you want it. The pay's decent, at three dachals a week, plus tips, minus expenses like room and board. One condition, though. You have to start now."
A war raged in my head. On the one hand, it would save me from having to look for a job. On the other, it meant working with drunken, leering strangers on a daily basis.
I nodded. "Okay," I said.
"Good. You just saved my ass, girl. What's your name?"
"Ellis."
"Okay, Ellis, there are some spare outfits in the back of the kitchen. I'm sure something will fit you. The girls'll tell you what to do. Get moving!"
I jumped at his sudden shout, and darted into the crowd of people in the common room. I reached the door to the kitchen and pushed it open, not sure what to do next. The kitchen smelled strongly of spice and cooking meat. Four fires raged along one wall, each one heating a large pot. At a counter, a man was chopping a piece of meat that I didn't care to identify.
"You the new girl?" one of the men asked.
I nodded.
Gesturing with his head, the man indicated a door along the far wall. "Change in there. Don't worry 'bout the other girl, we kicked her wasted ass out the back door already." Chuckles passed through the cooks at the remark.
"Thank you," I said. I'm not sure he heard me over the clatter of pans and dishes. In the small back room, I quickly slipped out of my dress and into one of the green uniforms. It was a tight fit over my chest and hips, and the skirt didn't even reach my knees, but I think that was the idea. It had a small white apron attached to the front as well, which I assumed was for holding coins.
There was no mirror in the room, so I adjusted my braid by feel, hoping that it didn't look too bad. As satisfied as I could be, I stepped back outside the room, only to be swept up by an energetic looking girl.
"Hi," she said. "You're the new girl, right? What's your name?"
"Ellis," I murmured.
"Okay, Else," she said. I ignored the fact that she got my name wrong. "Here's the deal: you walk around the floor, and take orders. Then you come back here and give the orders to these guys. They give you the food and drinks, you bring it back to the table that ordered it and take their money. Got it?"
I nodded, slightly overwhelmed by it all. She smiled at me, then pushed me out the door and back into the common room.
The one thing I remember of that night was the suggestive comments, leers, and gropes from the men. I tried to ignore it, on the advice of the other girls, but I couldn't hide the blushes that spread across my face. This, naturally, only increased their attention, which increased the colour in my face. By the end of the night, I had earned the nickname of "Red" among the patrons.
Some
people would have adapted, would have hardened themselves to the constant stream of degradation. I wasn't one of those people. With each passing day, I withdrew more and more. By the time the third week had passed, I was well known among the regular patrons.
"Hey, Red!" I heard the shout from across the room, and turned to find the source. If I didn't get to the man fast enough, the calls would get more obscene. My face grew warm just thinking about it. Glancing across the room, I saw a man beckon me over. I recognized him as a guard for one of the merchants that frequented the inn. He was one of the ones who had started my nickname. I had learned from the other girls that his name was Paterik. It was a Northern name, and he looked the part, with his short black hair and prominent jaw, though his average height dispelled any rumours of him being a true Northman.
I quickly found my way through the crowd to Paterik's table. There were several other mercenaries sitting around, playing a game of some sort that involved spinning a knife on the table and rolling dice. I didn't pretend to understand how it worked, but there were a considerable amount of steel coins being exchanged between the men.
I stood beside Paterik and waited for him to acknowledge me. I had grown even more hesitant about speaking than I was before I started working here, and that was saying something.
"Well, Red?" Paterik said without looking up at me. "Ain't you gonna say hi?"
"H-hello," I managed to respond.
He laughed. "See, guys? Told ya she can speak on command." The other men around the table laughed along, and I felt my face flush.
"So, Red," he continued, "be a doll and grab us another round of ales, would ya?" He kept his eyes on the game, but his hand still managed to grope its way to the hem of my skirt. I moved away quickly to get the drinks before he could get any further.
For the rest of the evening, I was turned into Paterik's personal servant. As I brought more and more drinks to the table, his groping became more frequent, and more insistent. The other serving girls were no help - they were glad he had focused on me, and weren't anxious to have the man's attention back on them. Complaining to the innkeeper wouldn't accomplish anything either. These men were spending a small fortune on booze, and weren't causing any serious harm to the inn. I was on my own - as always.
At around two in the morning, when most of the other patrons had stumbled home or to a bed upstairs, they finally appeared to have finished their game. The other men around the table were gathering up their coins, though I noticed with some satisfaction that Paterik had nothing but an empty table in front of him. I dropped the most recent round of drinks at the table as the man was pleading with the others.
"Come on, guys," he said. "The night's just getting started. Let's play one more round."
"You're broke," one of the other men said. "What are you gonna gamble with, your clothes? No thanks."
"No, not my clothes," Paterik said, looking around the table in search of an alternative. His eyes latched on me, and his hand shot out and grabbed me by the arm. "Her," he said, grinning. "Whoever wins gets the girl. That's gotta be worth something. You don't have a problem with it, do you, Red?"
"I-"
"You see?" Paterik interrupted. "No problem. What do you say, guys?"
I snapped. With a smooth motion, I snatched the dagger from the table and plunged it into Paterik's throat before he had the chance to react. His grip clenched on my arm for a moment before falling away. Clutching the hilt and ripping the blade out, I turned to face his gambling partners, ready to fight my way past them if I had to.
"Nice moves, girl," one of them said.
"Can't say he didn't deserve it," said another, nudging the body collapsed on the table with distaste.
It was far from the response I had expected. "What?" I said. The adrenaline had already started to drain, and the knife nearly fell from my hand as I realized what I had done. I clenched my hand around it as though it were the only thing keeping me alive. Now nervous, I started to back away from the remaining men and glanced around the room. All eyes were on me.
"But now we have to replace him," the last man said.
By this time, Taith had been informed of the incident, and now raced into the room, nearly falling over himself in an effort to apologize. Not to the men standing in front of me, but to another man sitting in the corner a few tables away.
"I am so sorry, Rolan" I could hear him say. "Nothing like this has ever happened before, and I promise you-"
"The question is," Rolan said in a quiet voice, "what are you going to do about it, Taith? I'm short a guard now."
"I'll pay for another, of course."
"We leave tomorrow. There's no time." Rolan moved towards the table where I still stood, and looked down at Paterik's corpse.
"Take one of the bouncers! They're obviously no use here." He spared a glare for the men who were standing along the wall, watching.
Rolan's voice grew icy. "You want me to take a man you yourself say is useless? What kind of fool do you take me for?"
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean they're useless, I mean, nobody could have done anything, we had no idea the girl was so-"
"Dangerous?" Rolan said softly, eyes meeting mine. "I'll take the girl, Taith. She's the only one in this room - including my other guards - who has killed a man. That's worth more than anything else you can offer me."
Taith hesitated, but only for a moment. Apparently the loss of one of his employees who murdered people didn't overly upset him.
"Deal," he said. "And you won't tell anyone about this?"
"Paterik fell to a bandit's arrow. We had to leave him on the roadside to make our escape." Rolan lied.
Apparently I was to get no choice in the matter. Though, really, what choice did I have? Any option other than going with Rolan would lead to my imprisonment for murder, or worse. I shrank back, trying to make myself small and unnoticeable.
Rolan fixed his eyes on the remaining three men and jerked his head toward the body. The men took the hint, and proceeded to gather up the corpse and haul it out the back door. When they were gone, Rolan pulled Taith out of my earshot and whispered something to him. The innkeeper nodded, and whispered something back. Rolan came back to the table where I still stood. It was covered in blood, so he guided me to another table, gently, as Taith exited the room, gesturing to the other serving girls that they were done for the night.
"So, Ellis," Rolan said as we sat alone in the room. "You're okay with working for me? I know we didn't give you much choice in the matter."
"I-I guess." I kept my eyes on the table as I spoke.
"Perhaps I should at least tell you who you're going to be working for. My name's Rolan, and I'm one of the leaders of the Mercenary's Guild. Merchants and other travellers hire us to protect them on their journeys through the Attarnon forests, from bandits and such. A mercenary's life is not a difficult one, I assure you. The pay is well, and the fights are few." He paused for a moment, perhaps expecting me to say something. I remained silent. "I must say you impressed me earlier," he continued. "Have you had any combat training?"
I shook my head. "Just some fights at the orphanage," I said.
"Some fights?"
"A lot of fights," I admitted.
"I thought as much. You have instinct, and you have speed. It wouldn't be enough against an experienced fighter, but for most bandits, you'd prove more than a match. Since we'll have to equip you, what weapon would you prefer? Most of us favour swords, but with your speed and relative lack of strength, well..." He eyed the blade I still clutched in my hand. "Daggers may be the obvious choice. Lack of range, true, but with enough speed - well, it's up to you."
The man sure liked to talk. "Daggers," I said quietly, watching the blood drip from my arm onto the table.
Rolan nodded. "Good choice. Even better that you already have one. I'll find you another before we set out tomorrow. I'm sure one of the other men will be more than willing to share."
"Thank you."
"Get some sle
ep now, Ellis, if you can. I'll meet you down here in the morning. Don't worry about Taith punishing you. I made it very clear that I would be extremely displeased if anything should happen to you, and he wouldn't want to lose the Guild as customers. They're the only ones keeping this place alive."
I nodded, and rose from the table. I felt Rolan's eyes on me as I left the room. "One more thing," he said. I paused at the door. "Make sure to pack your things. You won't be coming back here."
Rolan was right about the Guild - the work was easy. On that first trip, we didn't even see anything more dangerous than a squirrel. Which was good, since I was absolutely terrified. The Guild had provided me with a second dagger, as well as some simple hardened leather armour that hung so loose I could pull it off without having to unbuckle it. My job was to walk by the wagon, looking menacing. The trip took four days, ending at a small village near the Mountains. The Guild only had a small presence here, which meant that most of us would be accompanying the merchant to his next location as well.
We had a few days to spend in the village while the merchant did whatever it is merchants do. Rolan suggested that I get to know the men I was working with. I tried. I even sat at their table once or twice. But their conversation was coarse and pointless, and if I tried to speak, I quickly found my voice drowned out by another. I found myself isolated again, as I had been at the orphanage. But at least I was used to it.
There was one thing that interested me, and I focused on it with all my energy - combat training. Rolan had insisted that we train as often as possible, and I took advantage of the opportunity. The Guild owned a small building at the side of the village, which it used for storing equipment for members, a meeting ground, and a large open space that was used as a practice area.
The morning after we arrived, I found my way there.
Not many of the mercenaries had taken Rolan seriously - either that, or not many of them were up this early in the morning. When I arrived, only two others were there. One was Rolan. The other was a man I didn't recognize. Both had removed their armour, and fought in simple clothes.
I watched for a few rounds as they sparred with wooden weapons I had spotted laying around the room. Rolan was the clear victor each time, striking the other man with strokes that would have killed had he been using a live blade.
They finally noticed me after a few minutes and broke off, to the strange man's obvious relief. He took the opportunity to sit on a small bench to the side of the room and gulp down some water. Rolan approached me. He didn't even appear to be winded.
"So," he said. "At least someone followed my advice. You'll find some practice daggers around here somewhere. Let's see what you've got."
After locating the weapons, I strode out to meet Rolan in the middle of the floor. Before I reached him, he charged at me, swinging his weapon. He must have pulled back at the last
Ellise Page 1