A Sellsword's Valor

by Jacob Peppers

  “Ah,” May said, nodding as if she understood, “I see. Well, I apologize, Princess. I had thought you were serious about taking your kingdom back.”

  “Damnit, May,” Adina said, incredulous, “I am serious; have I not shown you that already? I won’t let that bastard Ridell and the nobles sit in power for one moment longer than they already have. They are selfish men and women who care nothing for the people, only their own ambitions.”

  “Uh-huh,” May said, “so then you have some plan to speak to this loyal captain of yours this…what was his name again?”

  “Captain Oliver,” Adina hissed, “and no, I don’t have a plan yet, you know that. I needed to see what the city was like first, to see what opportunities there might be to meet with Captain Oliver privately.”

  “And this Captain Oliver,” May said, “would he be in charge of the city guards?”

  Adina blinked. “Yes…yes he is. Technically, so is General Ridell, but Captain Oliver runs the day to day. Why?”

  May ignored the question. “So, if Captain Oliver is in charge of the city guards, then it stands to reason that our amorous city guardsman there,” she said, nodding her head the guard who was now back at his position at the gate, “might very well know him?”

  Adina huffed. “Of course he’ll know him, but I don’t see wha—” She cut off, her eyes going wide in realization. “Gods, how did I not think of that?”

  May smiled and patted Adina’s hand. “I wouldn’t worry overly much about it, sister. After all, it’s not every day that a woman gets to practice leading a rebellion now is it?”

  Adina shook her head angrily. “Gods, I’m a fool. If Aaron were here, he wouldn’t have missed such a—”

  “If Aaron were here,” May interrupted, “we would no doubt have corpses at our feet and angry city guardsmen all around us. Never mind what Silent would do—the man’s the best killer I’ve ever seen, but his people skills are…well…he doesn’t exactly have what you might call people skills, and subtlety is as beyond him as flying is beyond a fish.”

  “Maybe,” Adina said, suddenly self-conscious, “but he wouldn’t have to go on a date to have a chance at taking back his kingdom either.”

  May laughed, clapping the princess on the back. “Let Silent have his weapons—you have your own. And don’t look so worried. It’s not as if you’ve been promised to the man. Besides, it will give us an excuse to go shopping—if you’re anything like me, you’re sick of wearing the same clothes and sleeping on hard ground. It’ll do you good to brush the nettles out of your hair and get dolled up for a change.”

  Adina shrugged. She didn’t care anything about shopping—growing up, it had seemed to her that shopping was all the other noblewomen had ever wanted to do, and she’d found it boring beyond belief. Still, a warm bed sounded good. Very good. “Fine,” Adina said, “but a drink and no more than that, May. If that’s not enough then we’ll just have to find another way to get to Oliver.”

  “Don’t decide so soon,” May said, “he was a handsome enough man, and he seemed nice. Who knows,” she said, grinning, “might just be you’ll enjoy yourself.”

  “May,” Adina scolded, “enough. I love Aaron, you know that.”

  “Who said anything about love?” May asked. “I was just talking about cleaning the rust off the—”

  “Well now, that was fun.” Adina, grateful for the interruption, turned to see Beth, Bastion, and Gryle walking up. The old woman was grinning, and both men were studying their feet, rubbing at their ears.

  Adina frowned. “What happened to you all?”

  “Oh, nothing important,” Beth said. “I just told the nice fella over there that these un’s here were my son and grandson, draggin’ me all the way to Galia because they want me to pay for ‘em to start up a tavern, as if the world don’t already have enough of those. It ain’t good, don’t ya know, to be draggin’ around a woman at my age. Plum selfish.” She said as she gave the two men a mock-frown.

  “You didn’t have to pinch our ears so hard,” Gryle muttered.

  “I can’t feel mine at all,” Bastion grumbled.

  “Well now, that’s just like my layabout son and grandson to be complainin’ about a little pain in their ears while my poor old self aches from head to toe from following them on some mad dream to start up a tavern so as to make sure they don’t drink up all their coin.”

  The two men looked up at Adina as if hoping for her to come to their rescue, but she only smiled, glad that they were all safe within the city. “We should get off the street and find an inn.” She took in the dirt-stained forms of her companions and nodded. “A warm bath would do us all good, I think.”

  “And a healer, maybe,” Bastion grunted, still rubbing at his ear. “I’m half sure my ear’s getting ready to fall off.”

  “Listen to you,” Beth said, shaking her head, the smile still on her face, “a giant like yourself, and here you are complaining about a little ear ache. Everybody gets them, you know.”

  “Well,” May said, turning to Adina, “where would you like to go, sister? After all, we don’t have long to prepare you for your date.”

  “Date?” Gryle said, his eyes going wide.

  Adina turned and glared at May. “Never mind, Gryle,” she said, “I’ll tell you about it, but not now—right now, we need to get off of the streets. No one’s recognized me yet, thank the gods, but that doesn’t mean they won’t if we push our luck. As for where we’re going…” she smiled, turning to them. “Follow me.”

  CHAPTER

  FIFTEEN

  Once the messenger was gone, Maladine Caulia, representative of the Golden Oars Bank, stared down at the letter of summons in her hand with something like trepidation. There had been only two such summons of the council since King Belgarin had come back from his battle with Isalla, and both had left her disturbed. A thing that was worrying in itself as Maladine had always prided herself on not being disturbed by anything.

  She had been born to a poor family in a poor town and had promised herself at a young age—after seeing her father imprisoned for debts he couldn’t pay—that she would become wealthy enough that she would never have to worry about such a thing again. What people born into riches never seemed to understand was that gold acted as a shield against the world, a wall between a person and the cruelties that could and would be visited upon a person. Particularly a young girl already displaying much of the beauty she would grow into in time, one who was desperate to find something to eat, anything to stop the gnawing of hunger in her belly.

  The rich knew nothing of such problems, nothing of the pains a woman, or a young girl, might go through to ensure that she would never go hungry again. She spoke with nobles often—in her role as the bank’s representative it was inevitable—and she knew that they coveted her and her body, could see it in their eyes, even on the rare occasions when they did not speak their desires. Men such as that often did, for they were used to wanting things and even more used to getting the things they wanted. Never needing things though. No, need was something they never really understood. They used the word as if it had no real meaning of its own, as if it were only a substitute for “want.”

  But Maladine knew the difference. She had seen the difference visited upon her, and she hated them for their ignorance, their blind, blissful ignorance. They wanted her, believed they needed her, yet they knew nothing of those tortures she’d had visited upon her. Tortures which, should she give them their desires, should she unclothe herself before them, would be all too visible to their hungry gazes. They knew nothing of what she had endured, or of what she had made others endure to get where she was.

  Maladine Caulia was not a woman easily disturbed. Yet she found that as she reread the summons once more, that was exactly what she was. The last two council meetings had been painful, tense affairs, and for the first time since she’d taken on the role of representative of the Golden Oars Bank and began interacting with the king, she had felt afraid, felt as if
her very life might be in danger.

  Belgarin, before the battle at Perennia, had been like a noble child: rich, powerful, angry but, for the most part at least, no true danger as long as you patted his head from time to time and told him what a clever, handsome boy he was. She’d even gone so far, many months ago, to sleep with him, a pathetic episode that had left her feeling like she needed to wash for days, but, in doing so, had gained herself some favor. Another connection that she could exploit when necessary. Never overtly, of course, but even the worst of men generally felt some tenderness to the women they took to their beds—that was another truth that Maladine’s life had taught her.

  Belgarin had been willful and stupid and vain, but before the battle at Perennia was lost, and he was forced to retreat with his troops, he had been manageable, a horse that would allow itself to be guided just so long as it was blind to the reins wrapped about it. Since returning from Isalla, though, the king was a different man entirely. His voice was calmer, his demeanor too, and he did not shout or scream or beat his fists as he once had. Instead, he spoke softly, sometimes almost too soft to hear, but in a voice, a tone that expected unflinching obedience, and Maladine knew that she was not the only member of the council who had noticed the change. The others rarely spoke during the meetings now, and never unless asked a direct question by the king.

  Even Caldwell himself acted different. She’d had some dealings with the man in times past, times when he’d paid her in coin for her support on one decision or another, and she had always been more than happy to oblige. Words meant little, opinions meant little, but coin meant everything. Coin was the difference between life and death, between crying your battered, broken body to sleep as you lay on some flea-ridden excuse for a mattress, and lying down to rest in a feathered bed with silk sheets so soft you felt as if you were reclining on a cloud.

  The advisor had not visited her once since the king’s arrival back in Baresh, however, and he, too, spoke little during the meetings and only when spoken to by the king. No longer did the advisor attempt to guide events. Instead, he seemed content to sit back in the relative safety his silence afforded him and leave the king to lead unhindered or guided. Yet even that was not the most noticeable change in his demeanor, the one that had made Maladine aware that she was not the only one who had noticed the differences in the king. It wasn’t even that Caldwell seemed to respect the king, a thing she had never seen from him before. It was something deep in the advisor’s gaze, so well hidden that you might miss it, if you didn’t look close enough. It was in the way he spoke and the way he bowed, and it had taken Maladine some time to realize what it was. Fear.

  The advisor—a man who had manipulated the king for years in small matters and had shown nothing but disdain for him when given the opportunity to do so—was afraid of the man Belgarin had become. That, if nothing else, would have been enough to cause Maladine worry.

  For a brief moment, she entertained the idea of sending another in her stead—one of her employees, perhaps—but she quickly dismissed the thought. No, she would go, of course. She was quite sure the king would not look kindly upon her sending someone in her place. Better to feel like one’s life hangs by a thread than to cut the thread yourself and know the truth of it.

  She read the letter once more, ensuring that she had the correct time then glanced out the window of her second story office at Baresh’s branch of the Golden Oars. The sun was low in the sky and soon night would settle upon the city.

  The meeting was set for early the following day, and she knew the wisest thing would be to spend the remainder of her day preparing for any questions the king may have, and getting to bed early to ensure that she was well-rested. The wisest thing maybe, but she found that, just then, what she wanted more than rest or preparation was a drink. A drink to steady nerves that were so rarely unsteadied. Yes, that would do perfectly.

  She rose from her desk, folding the letter and sliding it inside of one of the drawers. She took a moment to grab the key that hung about her neck from a silver chain and lock the drawer before throwing a scarf about her shoulders. She had lived in Baresh for many years, yet she had grown up in a much warmer town, and her body had never become adjusted to the cooler climate of the city. She glanced at the drawer, considered reading the letter again, as if she might divine from its contents some clue to the drastic change that had overcome the king, then, frowning, she forced herself to turn and walk out of the office.

  “Ma’am?” Her secretary, a competent if plain girl, asked from her seat behind her desk, “Is there something I can help you with?”

  “No, thank you,” Maladine said, “but it is kind of you to ask.” The woman smiled wide at that, opening her mouth as if to speak, but Maladine spoke first. “Enjoy your night, Brigitte. I will not be back in the office until tomorrow.”

  “Of course, ma’am,” the woman said, and Maladine thought she detected a hint of disappointment that whatever words she had been about to say had gone unsaid.

  And that was alright. Maladine was always kind to those under her not because she cared a whit for their thoughts or opinions but because, should anything happen and they somehow gained a position above her, she wanted to be sure that they thought well of her. Always kind but never friendly. Friends, after all, were nothing but one more weight dragging a person down. “Good night, Brigitte,” she said, heading for the door.

  “Good night, ma’am.”

  Outside, the sun had not yet set, but the air was cool against her skin, and she pulled the scarf tighter about herself as she stepped out into the street. With some day still left, she knew that the streets of the poorer districts would be crowded with men and women going about their lives, working hard to provide food and shelter for their families. But here, in the heart of the noble quarter, the streets were nearly empty, save for one well-dressed couple she saw in the distance, strolling casually down the street as if the approaching night held no concern for them.

  And why should it? Sure, there had been rumors of disappearances in the city of late, but such men and women as this, born to privilege and power—and the safety both provided—would no doubt think the rumors exaggerated if, that was, they were true at all. It was hard to believe that the shadows of night hid monsters when so much of your life had been spent under the sun. Maladine could have told them the truth of things, had she wished to, but she did not. After all, if the disappearances continued as they had been, she suspected they would learn it soon enough.

  She considered going back inside and calling for Brigitte to send for one of her body guards—men who were almost always with her when she made her way through the city. Though the nobles might not have learned it, Maladine’s past had taught her the lesson well that the quiet peace of the night was no more than an illusion, easily shattered. Still, she knew that it would take time for the man to arrive, and she did not want to wait, felt that she needed a drink now, a drink to bring her perspective back into focus, to help her find some means of turning even this strange situation with the king to her advantage.

  And with that thought, Maladine Caulia did something she made it a point never to do—she ventured forth with nothing but her hope—a hope that everything would be okay—to guard her. As she walked, she got the distinct feeling that she was being watched, but she looked around herself multiple times, searching for the not-quite normal shadows that she knew often presaged a shattering of the night’s illusion. None were in sight, and when she stopped to listen the only sound she heard was that of her own breath in her lungs. Just your nerves, woman, nothing else.

  Still, the feeling of being watched, of being followed, did not leave her, and she increased her pace the slightest bit, not a casual walk but a purposeful one, the walk of a woman who had important business to attend to—which she did. She did not run, never that, for running was a sign of weakness, a trait displayed by prey, and where there was prey there were, inevitably, predators.

  She made her way toward a nearby
tavern called the The King’s Own. It wasn’t, of course—one of the many benefits of being a king is that you had people to bring and pour your ale for you. But the tavern was a nice, clean place, much finer than those filthy, rowdy taverns that she had come to know—always to her detriment—in her youth.

  There was a man waiting outside in a well-made, expensive shirt, and trousers that did little to hide the bulk of muscle underneath. He bowed low as she approached. “Madam Caulia,” he said, “it is a pleasure to see you once more.”

  Maladine didn’t answer—the man was a simple bouncer after all, never mind what he wore—and being kind had its limits. Instead, she walked to the door. The man opened it for her, and she stepped inside with the slightest nod of her head.

  She took a moment to survey the room. Several noblemen and noblewomen she recognized sat in the high-backed, cushioned booths, but they were minor nobles and of no real concern. After all, most of them she knew from their visits to the Golden Oars when they came requiring—never asking or begging, not nobles—a loan of funds for some venture of theirs. Despite their frilly words and false talk, such ventures usually amounted to little more than young noblemen and women borrowing money to purchase new dresses or trousers for some ball or other while they waited on their parents to give them their allowances.

  In her role working for the Golden Oars bank, Maladine had loaned coin to more than a few of them, but when they glanced to the door and saw her, they looked away as if not noticing her and that was as was expected. She, after all, was not of noble blood no matter how much coin she had. And that was fine with Maladine. The coin was all she wanted, and that she had in abundance, more than any two or three of the nobles and their families combined, for her masters paid well as long as she got her job done. But the nobles, of course, did not know it.