A Sellsword's Valor

by Jacob Peppers

  “I know that,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean it has to be you.” Leomin started to raise a finger, and Adina spun on him. “Or you, Leomin,” she snapped, “Of course, I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.”

  The Parnen meekly lowered his hand, his eyes studying the ground.

  “And what if I were to say that I was going to come with you?” Adina said, her eyes filled with challenge.

  Aaron shrugged. “Then you would, that’s all. Although I’ve got to tell you, Adina, it doesn’t seem like a good idea. I need you here keeping track of what’s going on and making sure that these fools don’t kill each other before I get back. And if not that, then you should really go to Cardayum for a time. You are their new ruler, after all, and you have only been there once since your brother’s death. Besides, the mountain city is more defensible than Perennia and—”

  The princess’s expression grew dark, cold, “So I’m to hide away in some castle while you risk your life, is that it, Aaron Envelar?”

  Aaron saw the trap but didn’t know a way around it. “I…that is…I’m a sellsword, Adina. You’re a princess. If you don’t like it, I suppose you could ask Leomin’s gods. Maybe they have the answers. All I know is that if we don’t keep this army together, the entire country is going to drown in blood.”

  She sighed, some of the fight going out of her. “You’ll come back.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Aaron answered it anyway, “Yes.” If I can.

  She opened her mouth as if to say more then glanced meaningfully at Leomin.

  “Yes, Princess?” the Parnen said, not getting the hint.

  Aaron grunted. “I think we should go to our room. It would be better to talk there, away from prying eyes and ears.”

  “Yes, of course,” Leomin said, nodding, “that is a most wise decision, Mr. Envelar, within the confines of said room, I am sure that we might—”

  “We, Leomin,” he said, pointing at Adina and himself, “Why don’t you go and get some supplies?”

  “Oh. Aaah,” the Parnen said, smiling, “Why, I would be happy to, Aaron. I know of a horse merchant not far from here who has some of the finest beasts I have ever seen.” He nodded slowly. “A bit of a grumpy man, I must admit, though he is not given to idle chatter, and that is something I respect greatly in a person. His daughter though…why, she is most hospitable, a very kind, giving soul. Would you like for me to tell you the story of our first meeting? It was truly—”

  “No,” Aaron and Adina both said at the same time, and the Parnen winced.

  “Very well,” he said with what dignity he could summon, “though I must observe that it is a shame that not everyone enjoys a good story. And speaking of good stories, I should tell you about this woman I met—Anna or no, wait, was it Amy…it was something like that I’m sure of it. Abby, perhaps? Wait, it’ll come to me…”

  The man was still speaking as Aaron led Adina from the audience chamber, his voice carrying on a monologue to an empty room as the doors closed behind them.

  CHAPTER

  FOUR

  “Son of a bitch,” Sergeant Wendell muttered, tossing his cards onto the table in disgust. “Really figured you were bluffin’ there.”

  “I never bluff,” the gray-haired swordmaster said, smiling and raking the coins toward his increasingly large stack and beginning to organize them. The bastard had so many that it was taking some doing. Wendell frowned at his own quickly diminishing pile of coins. Not enough to be called a pile, not really.

  “That a fact?” Wendell said sourly, staring at his own coins. Not a pile at all. He wasn’t sure what you called an amount of coins you could fit in the palm of our hand, but he thought maybe “pittance” would work. “Seems to me,” he said, looking back at the swordmaster and his smug smile, “that you took some of my coin from me not two hands ago on a bluff.”

  “Well,” Darrell said, grinning, “you’ve caught me. Still, Sergeant, something I’ve learned is that in cards, as in battle, misdirection is one of the best strategies a man can use.”

  Wendell shook his head. “My momma used to tell me I was a fool, and by the gods I think she was right. What other reason would bring me out here to meet you at this tavern week after week to give you all my gold? And I had plans for this here. There’s a new girl over at The Serving Wench, goes by the name of Stretching Sallia, if you can believe it. Folks say she can do things to a man that’ll leave him screamin’ and beggin’ for more at the same time.”

  The swordmaster sighed. “Brothels. Friend Wendell, if you don’t mind me saying so, I think there are, perhaps, wiser things to do with your coin.”

  Wendell scowled, “Like give it to you, I suppose.”

  Darrell laughed at that, and despite himself Wendell found himself grinning as well. “Another hand?” the swordmaster asked.

  Wendell grunted, rubbing at an ache in his arm from where one of the practice swords had struck him during training earlier in the day. Wood or not, those damned things hurt. He’d spent the morning and early afternoon getting beat on then he’d come here only to get beat on again. Except, this beating wouldn’t end with bruises and shouts of pain but instead empty pockets and a lonely night. Stretching Sallia would have to wait for some other time. Unless, he thought, a flash of excitement running through him, I double up. It could happen—the man isn’t a mind reader, after all. He leaned forward and waved his hand, “Deal ‘em, you old bastard.” He watched the swordmaster shuffle and glanced again at the small pile of coins on his side of the table. Gods, I really am a fool.

  They’d been playing for a short time—and Wendell’s remaining coins were so few that they were destined for extinction unless the two that were left got together and started poppin’ out little coin babies—when the door to the tavern opened, and the swordmaster looked over Wendell’s shoulder, smiling widely. “Ah, a princess enters a tavern. There’s a joke there somewhere.”

  “Oh, you ain’t gettin’ me to look that easy,” Wendell said, keeping his gaze steady, “I turn around, and the next thing I know I’m missin’ some coins.”

  The swordmaster raised his eyebrow at him and glanced meaningfully at the two left on his side of the table. “I think you’d notice.”

  “Smug bastard,” Wendell muttered. He glanced at his cards. “Well, those two are gettin’ ready to have a couple of friends,” he said, pushing the two coins into the middle of the table. “It’s on you.”

  The swordmaster considered and was reaching for his coins when a woman spoke from beside the table. “Darrell.”

  Darrell rose and bowed. “Princess, it is very good to see you.”

  Wendell cursed and stumbled out of his own chair, nearly knocking it over as he bowed low. “You could have told me, you old snake,” he said.

  “And here, I thought I had.”

  Wendell only frowned, but Adina laughed. “Oh, please, no need for all of this fuss on my account.” She glanced around at the crowded tavern and saw several people watching curiously. “Sergeant,” she said, “there really isn’t any need to fall to both knees. I’m not a god, after all. Besides, we’re drawing more attention than I’d like.”

  Wendell’s face heated. “Sorry about that,” he said, standing once more, “I ain’t had much cause to be around royalty, as such. Gods be good, my mom was always too embarrassed to even take me to market with her. Overreacted, if you ask me. You set a horse’s tail on fire one time and all of a sudden nobody trusts you.”

  Darrell cleared his throat as he drew out a chair for the princess. Damnit, I should have thought of that, Wendell thought. He considered pulling the chair out further, but as the princess was already sitting in it, he didn’t think it’d do any good, so instead he followed the swordmaster’s lead and sat himself. “A horse’s tail on fire, you say?” Darrell asked, grinning.

  Wendell grunted, not wanting to talk about it. “Weren’t much of a tail no ways. Just a stringy, shriveled thing, hairless and all. ‘Course,” he
said, considering, “that might’ve been the fire done for that last bit. Anyhow, I ain’t sure it was the burnin’ tail itself so much that put my mother off bringin’ me with her, as it was the merchant’s stall that took a bit of a beatin’. That horse wasn’t a big fan of the fire, you understand. Fella blew the whole thing all out of proportion.”

  Darrell blinked. “A merchant’s stall was damaged?”

  Wendell cleared his throat. “Err…that is, stalls. Couple of ‘em…maybe a few more…anyhow who keeps track of such things as that?”

  “I imagine the merchants,” Adina laughed.

  “Yeah, they did too, the bastards. I had to do chores for years to pay ‘em back. Anyhow,” Wendell said, deciding it was time to change the subject, “you don’t mind me askin’, Princess, what’s got you out here? The ale tastes like dog piss.” He glanced at Darrell. “And the company ain’t nothin’ to speak of.”

  The princess’s smile faded at that, and she turned to Darrell. “As to that, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I didn’t think I was ever going to find you until one of the soldiers told me you and Sergeant Wendell met at this tavern every week.”

  “Bastard probably laughed when he said it,” Wendell muttered.

  “I apologize for the trouble, Princess,” the swordmaster said. “How can I help you?”

  Adina winced. “Can we talk somewhere a little more private? It’s about Aaron.”

  “Of course,” Darrell said, rising. Adina also stood, and Darrell pulled her chair back. Damnit again, Wendell thought.

  “This way, princess,” Darrell said, grabbing his winnings—bastards gonna have to get bigger pockets, Wendell thought—then the swordmaster turned back to look at him. “I apologize for cutting our game short, Sergeant. I will seek you out soon. You may keep your two coins, if you’d like.”

  Wendell snorted as he watched them walk away. Of course he was keeping his coins. The bastard was just lucky the princess had walked in when she did. It had been obvious the man was gonna call, and there was no way he had Wendell beaten. No way. He glanced back once more to make sure they were gone then leaned forward, grabbing the swordmaster’s cards from where he’d laid them on the table. “Son of a bitch,” he said. Sighing, he took his two remaining coins and put them in his pocket then rose.

  He considered buying another ale but suddenly found that he didn’t feel much like being in the tavern. Dark was still an hour or two away, but he found that he was tired. Maybe a good night’s sleep would be all he needed. And was all he could afford at any rate. He turned and headed out the door, and happened to see Adina and Darrell disappear around a corner.

  The way they’d walked wasn’t in the direction of his room. “Well, that’s alright,” he muttered to himself, “a walk in the fresh air will do me some good.” Decided, he set off in the direction Adina and Darrell had taken. He made it to the alley they’d gone down and a quick glance showed them about halfway down its length. Well, he thought, a walk is all fine and good, but there’s nothing quite like taking in the sights and sounds of the city. That’ll be just the thing. And if he just happened to overhear someone’s conversation? Well, that wasn’t his fault, was it? He propped his back up against the front of a tailor’s shop on one side of the alley and relaxed. He started to whistle a tune but decided against it. Not that he was hiding from anyone. After all, he was just a man out to see the city—what cause did he have for hiding?

  The two voices were low and hushed, and Wendell could only make out snatches of the conversation. “going to Baresh …” the princess was saying, but her voice grew more distant.

  Wendell cocked his head, but still almost all of the words were too quiet to make out. He grunted, suddenly dissatisfied with the view. If you’d seen one main city street, you’d seen them all, so far as he was concerned. The real character of a city wasn’t in its main street, but in its alleyways, away from the hustle and bustle of visitors. He glanced down the alleyway and saw that Adina and Darrell were walking toward the opposite end of the alley, and he followed them, keeping a quiet, respectful distance. Wasn’t his fault they just happened to be walking the same direction as him, but he didn’t want to make a lot of noise and disturb them. Based on their postures, they were talking about something serious and, whatever that something was, it had to do with the general.

  “…not such a bad idea…” Darrell was saying, and Wendell drew closer still. Finally, they turned down an alleyway, and Wendell decided to walk a little faster—good for the heart and lungs, was exercise. He made it to the end of the alley and glanced around the corner to make sure once more that he didn’t stumble into them and disturb them, and saw that they had stopped on the street right around the corner.

  Well, he thought, don’t want to bother ‘em none. Probably, I’ll just relax here for a moment. And that was exactly what he did, propping his back against the wall once more.

  “Of course it’s a bad idea,” Adina was saying. “Don’t you understand, Darrell? He could be killed.”

  “We do not know how many traitors are still in the castle, Princess,” the swordmaster said. “For all we know, Aaron will be safer in Baresh than he will be here. At least there, he’ll know who his enemies are. Besides, he’s right—we can’t afford to lose the armies. If the people of Avarest leave, we will have lost a significant portion of our strength in the coming battle.”

  “Our, you say,” Adina said, “but is that what you mean, Darrell? Tell me, truly, where does your loyalty lie? Is it with Aaron or is it with the Tenders?”

  There was a hesitation then as the swordmaster considered the question. “Can it not be both?”

  “No,” Adina said, “no, I don’t believe it can. I think you know as well as I that Tianya will not be happy with Aaron’s decision to go. After all, we don’t know where Boyce Kevlane is. If she had her way, Aaron would be locked in a padded room for the rest of his life—Leomin too, I suspect. No, Darrell, there is no middle ground here. I need to know the truth. If it comes between Tianya and the Tenders or Aaron, who do you choose?”

  The swordmaster sighed, and there was something defeated about it. “You’re right, of course. Tianya won’t be happy when she hears of it. She has tried to get me to speak with Aaron again about leaving the country, but I’ve told tell her that it’s no use. That boy’s never run from a fight in his life, and I don’t expect he’ll start to do so now.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Another hesitation, and when Darrell spoke his voice was low but full of certainty. “Aaron was—is—like a son to me, Adina. I pray that it doesn’t come to that, but if it does, I will choose Aaron. Always.”

  “Thank you, Darrell,” Adina said, and Wendell could hear the tears of relief in her voice, “thank you. Will you go with him then? Will you keep him safe?”

  “Yes,” Darrell said. “Tianya will not be pleased, but if it is within my power, I will keep any harm from coming to him.”

  If it is within my power. Wendell had seen the man slaughter several men in the space of a few heartbeats. Well, he’d sort of seen it—he’d been being choked to death at the time. And General Envelar was no slouch himself. Why, people told stories about him in the city like he was some living legend, and Wendell had seen what he did on the battlefield. The man and the Ghosts with him took on thousands of soldiers by themselves, and Wendell thought that the general must have killed at least two or three dozen people alone. He pitied the fool that would try to do either man harm, and he snorted at the thought of it. Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d done. Shit.

  “Wha—?” the princess began, but Darrell only sighed.

  “You can come out now, Sergeant.”

  Wendell winced and reluctantly walked around the corner. “Right,” he said, clearing his throat, “so when are we leaving?”

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  Aaron was in the room he and Adina shared, packing a traveling bag for his journey when a
knock came at the door. He opened it expecting it to be Adina, and was surprised to find May standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. “May,” he said, “I thought you’d be with Thom. What brings you here?” Though judging by the angry scowl on her face he thought he knew well enough.

  “You’re a fool.”

  Aaron sighed and swung the door open. “Come on in, May.” He motioned to one of the two chairs at the small sitting table. “Have a seat. If you’re going to yell at me, we might as well both be comfortable.”

  She walked past him into the room, glancing meaningfully at the pack sitting on the bed before looking back at him. “You honestly intend to go through with this madness.”

  Aaron reluctantly closed the door and turned back to look at the club owner. “Yes.”

  She shook her head angrily. “Silent, I’ve seen you survive some things no one has a right to walk away from. Do you remember when Hale asked you to join his crew and you refused?”

  Of course I remember, he thought, I’ve still got the scars. “Yes.”

  “When he sent those assassins after you, you somehow managed to survive. Then when Grinner’s men took your mother’s necklace, you rushed off like a fool and took on Grinner’s entire criminal empire. Do you remember that?”

  More memories. More scars. “I remember.”

  “Even when you tried to save Prince Eladen and ended up being chased by pretty much every coin hungry criminal in the city—which is every criminal in the city. Do you remember that?”

  Aaron nodded slowly, “You know I do, May. But that’s not fair. I didn’t know it was Prince Eladen I was rescuing. Or…failing to rescue.”

  “Just shut up and listen,” she snapped. “Now, as I understand it, you intend to travel to a city ruled by a man who would no doubt pay more coin than exists in all of the Downs to have your head on a pike. Not to mention that you’ll be putting yourself at the mercy of a pissed off mage that’s been alive for thousands of years and, as far as I’ve heard, is pretty much a damned immortal.”