A Sellsword's Valor

by Jacob Peppers

  “Finally,” May said, turning to the tailor—a thin, gaunt-looking man with gray hair who was smiling wearily. The club owner gave one firm nod. “It’s about time you brought us something to match my sister’s beauty. Better than those rags you showed us before.”

  “Which rags were those, May?” Adina asked dryly. “Were they in the first batch of one hundred or the second? I’m afraid I’ve lost count.”

  “Just stunning,” May said, turning back and examining Adina in the mirror once more, “Fields, but if you’re not careful men will take you for a goddess come to visit the city when you’re walking the streets. I’d be surprised if you don’t have priests following you around before long asking to swear oaths to you,” she said, winking, “or forsake those they’ve already taken, if that’s more of what you’d like.”

  Adina sighed. “May, honestly, I think there has to be a better way than this. And this dress is so tight I can barely breathe.”

  “It’s perfect, dear,” May said distractedly, then turned to the tailor. “Now, how much do you aim to set us back to buy this dress, and the shoes along with it? And I warn you,” she said, somehow looming over the thin older man despite the fact that he stood several feet away, and she hadn’t moved any closer, “we are no country bumpkins to be taken advantage of. I know a fair price when I hear it, and I won’t be swindled by the likes of you.”

  The man blinked, a nervous look on his face as if he’d just woken to find himself holding the cub of a very large, very angry she-bear. Which, of course, wasn’t that far from the truth. “I…madam, I’m sure that we can come to some arrangement, and I would never think of ‘swindling’ anyone, I assure you. I run an honest business and—”

  May snorted. “In my experience, thieves don’t advertise their occupation to those they intend to rob, mister.”

  “Honestly, May,” Adina said, “the man is just doing his job, that’s all. And I feel like you’re not even listening to me.”

  “Now,” May said, not listening to her, “why don’t you tell me how much you’ll charge for the dress and the shoes—and some pretty bauble for her to wear. One that will set off her eyes—my but they are lovely—and be quick about it. I won’t sit here while you come up with some extra charge to steal what little money we might have. Tell me your number, and I’ll tell you just how much of a thief you are.”

  It was another half an hour before Adina and May stepped out of the tailor’s and into the street. Adina took a deep breath of the cool air, grateful to finally be out of the shop and done trying on dresses. She wondered idly if a person could spontaneously become claustrophobic. If the club owner noticed the princess’s sigh of relief, she gave no sign. Instead she grunted in satisfaction, closing her coin purse and sliding it into a dress she had somehow picked out during the interminable length of time it had taken for Adina to try on all the dresses May had wanted her to. “That’ll teach that old swindler. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I won’t be giving up my coins just because a man says ‘silk.’”

  “May,” Adina tried one final time, “do you really think this is the best way? I mean, I was thinking about it, and there are some other options we might pursu—”

  The club owner clucked, waving a hand dismissively, “Oh never mind that, dearie. This will work you have my word. Why, once he sees you in that dress, that guard would abandon his post, his family, and anything else he had, if that’s what it took to have a drink with you. Now, stop worrying so much. Do try to have a good time.” She grabbed Adina by the shoulders and held her out at arm’s length. “Relax, dear, you’re not exactly marching to your own execution, are you?”

  That was true, at least, but Adina thought that if she’d been forced to try on any more dresses, the execution would have been preferable.

  The club owner studied Adina, looking her up and down as if she was a child examining her favorite doll. “My, my, my,” she said, shaking her head as if in wonder, “That dress is truly remarkable.”

  Adina rolled her eyes. “I guess you’d know considering the fact that you seem to have purchased some for yourself as well,” she said, motioning to the bag of clothes in the other woman’s hand.

  “What, these?” May asked innocently. “Well, dear, I don’t expect you to understand, but plain, simple women like myself well, we have to have our fun too, don’t we?”

  Adina snorted. “You’re a lot of things, May, but plain and simple aren’t among them. As for having fun…” She smiled. “I wonder what Thom would think.”

  May turned her nose up with disdain. “That old fool can think whatever he likes, I’m sure, just so long as he keeps it to himself.” She frowned. “It isn’t as if we’re married, after all. That old stubborn bastard wouldn’t know how to find a wife, if he pulled one up in his fishing net.”

  Adina’s smile slowly faded. “Is everything alright with Thom, May?”

  The club owner waved a hand. “Oh, it’s fine. Don’t you worry about your old, May. I’ve conquered harder opponents than some gray-haired first mate, I can promise you that.”

  Adina gave the woman a smile. “If it makes you feel any better,” she said, glancing back at the tailor’s shop, “I’m all but certain that poor tailor is feeling conquered at the moment.”

  May smiled back. “It’s sweet of you to say so, dear. Now, we had better hurry—we don’t want you to be late for your big date.”

  No, Adina thought, not late. We want me to miss it completely. But she followed the club owner as she started down the street, if somewhat reluctantly.

  ***

  Adina was all too aware of the stares that followed her as she entered the tavern in her new dress and shoes, her hair prepared and fixed at May’s insistence, the necklace the tailor had sold her glittering in the lamplight. She forced herself to avoid fidgeting as she walked toward the bar. She was, of course, accustomed to wearing such fine clothes from her time in her father’s court as well as her own castle, but they did not seem to fit the same as they had before. She felt as if she were being somehow pretentious, as if even being a princess, she did not deserve to wear such finery while others in the world struggled to find enough food to feed their families.

  A dress like the one she now wore—not to mention the shoes and necklace—would sell for enough to feed such a family for a week or more. Unless, of course, she thought wryly, remembering the harried, frightened-looking tailor, the seller is unlucky enough to find May as his buyer. In that case, he’ll be lucky if he makes it away with the clothes on his own back. The thought did little to distract herself from the sense of being an imposter, though, or from the anxiety she was feeling. She wondered what Aaron would say if he saw her meeting some guard she didn’t even know for a drink, and decided it would be better if he never found out about it at all.

  As she weaved around tables toward the bar, she inwardly cursed May for picking the tightest dress the tailor had shown them. Any tighter, and Adina would have passed out before making it a dozen steps. The woman behind the bar looked up from where she’d been wiping down the already spotless counter and smiled. “Hello, how may I help you?”

  “I’m…” Adina cleared her throat and tried again. “That is, I’m meeting someone.”

  “Looking like that,” the older woman said with a kind smile, “I do not doubt it. Is there a particular lucky gentleman that you’re after, or would you like for me to just give a shout? I’m certain that there are a dozen men at least that would be happy enough to fill the role.”

  Adina felt her face heat, glancing around the tavern self-consciously. Some of the men watching had the grace to look away when she turned but most did not, and she felt her face heat more, focusing on the inside of the tavern in an effort to distract herself. Whatever else the guard had said, he had not lied. The tavern was a fine establishment. Instead of the bellowing, drunken laughter and angry shouts that usually filled the places she’d gone with Aaron and the others recently, there was only a low murmur of subdued voices
here as people spoke quietly in conversation.

  There was a stage in the back of the tavern and while the places she’d visited of late would have had a scantily-clad woman shifting her body in ways that made Adina hurt just to watch, this stage held only a single harpist, a woman. She was little more than a girl really, in a fine if simple dress, who strummed lightly on the strings of her instrument creating a soft, melodious sound that filled the room.

  Adina was surprised to find herself missing the loud boisterousness of the taverns in Avarest and the Downs. True, there had been dangers in those places. Perhaps there had been angry men, but there had also been happy ones and whichever they were, they had owned it completely with a passion that bordered on desperation. A very different approach to drinking than the one she saw in the reserved faces of those sitting at the tables of the tavern, whispering in quiet voices, their expressions neither angry nor sad—nor happy for that matter—instead appearing only bored.

  “Miss? Did I lose you?”

  “Ah, forgive me,” Adina said, turning back to the barkeep with a nervous laugh, “I’m afraid that, for a moment, I might have lost myself. And no, thank you for your offer, but I am meeting a particular person.”

  The woman smiled, nodding her head politely, “Of course, miss. And this lucky man’s name?”

  Adina opened her mouth to answer and realized with embarrassment that she didn’t remember the guards name—if that was, he’d ever told her. “I…” She hesitated, not knowing what to say, and she felt her face flush once more at her own foolishness. I’m going to kill May, she thought.

  “Oh, never got around to exchanging names, I suppose?” the woman asked, grinning. “Well, the gods only know I had such difficulties in my youth as well. Tell me, sweet one, can you describe what this man of yours looks like for me? Perhaps, I’ll be able to help you find him.”

  Adina started to answer and realized that she couldn’t remember a single defining feature about the man. He’d been wearing a helmet, of course, and the uniform of a guard, but she couldn’t recall anything else, and she already felt foolish enough without telling the woman she was looking for a man in a guard’s uniform. She opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, but was saved by a voice behind her.

  “I can’t believe you actually came.”

  She turned to see a man standing behind her, a smile on his face. It didn’t take her long to realize it was the guard from the gate as he still wore his uniform, though without his sword and helmet, at least. “If you don’t mind my saying so,” he said, “you look lovely.”

  Adina glanced down at her own dress, feeling ridiculously overdressed next to the uniformed guard. “My sister’s idea,” she said, “she can be quite…forceful.”

  He laughed, and Adina had to admit that the man wasn’t terrible looking, and he seemed kind enough. Things she would most definitely not share with Aaron even should she somehow tell him the rest. “I’d noticed that,” he said. “Anyway, let me first apologize again for accosting you at the gate as I did. After you left, I realized I must have sounded like a fool or some cretin who uses his role as a guard to flirt with women. I swear neither is true.”

  “No?” Adina said, reminding herself that she needed to win the guard over. “And here, you seemed so good at it.”

  He laughed at that, a deep, melodious sound that was not altogether unpleasant. “You mock me, but that’s alright. I deserve it and more besides, I don’t doubt.”

  “Do you mean to tell me,” the woman behind the bar said, “that this is the man you were wishing to meet?”

  “Yes ma’am, this is him. Although, I’m afraid,” she said, turning back to the guard, “I never got your name.”

  It was the guard’s turn to blush, and he ran a hand through his curly blond hair, “Ah, yes. I really am a fool. Forgive me, it’s Raste.”

  “Oh, go on,” the woman behind the bar said, “nobody’s called you Raste in years, and you know it.” She winked. “Why don’t you tell this fine woman what your friends call you?”

  The guard winced, obviously uncomfortable. “Ah, I’d rather not. She already thinks I’m fool enough.”

  “Oh come on now,” Adina said, smiling, “it is the very least you could do after you, how did you put it? Oh yes, accosted me at the gate and used your position as a guard to flirt with me.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she felt an unexplainable sense of guilt. Gods, it wasn’t as if she were actually interested in the man. She was here on a quest to win back her kingdom, that was all, and he was the best way of doing that.

  No matter her justifications, the guilt lingered but the man, at least, didn’t’ seem to notice. He sighed heavily. “Right. Well, my name is Raste,” he said, giving the barkeep a mock frown before turning back to Adina, “but most people around the city, they just call me ‘one-pint band.’”

  Adina raised her eyebrows. “That’s a mouthful.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell them,” he said ruefully, “but the basta—err, the guys, well, once they get a hold of something, they don’t tend to let it go.”

  “And may I ask,” Adina said, amused despite herself at the man’s obvious discomfort, “where such a name came from?”

  “Very well,” the man said, sighing heavily and running his hand through his hair once more. He really did have fine hair, she was forced to admit, soft and a golden tone of blond that most women would kill for. “But it’s a story best told over a drink, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “That would be alright,” Adina said. She wasn’t interested in the guard of course, but now that she was here, with him, she wasn’t as nervous as she had been. He was nice, if in a bumbling, almost childish sort of way.

  Smiling, he led her to one of the empty tables against the wall and waited for her to sit before taking his own seat. “Now then,” he said, “where were we?”

  She offered him a small smile. “I believe you were preparing to make a fool of yourself, if I’m not mistaken.”

  He cleared his throat. “Right, that. Well, the thing is, I’ve sort of got a thing about drinking.”

  Adina raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—you do it too much.”

  The guard laughed. “No, no but I wish that was it. In fact,” he said, pausing to take what was an almost dainty sip of his ale, “this is the first drink that I’ve had in no less than two months.”

  “And now I feel guilty for driving you to drink.”

  “What?” He blushed. “Oh, no that’s not what I mean, not at all. You see, my problem isn’t with drinking too much but drinking…well, poorly.”

  “You drink poorly,” Adina said dryly.

  The guard winced. “Right. Anyway, as for the reason why they call me ‘one-pint band.’ I can’t swear to any of this as…well, I don’t remember much of that night. But a few years ago, me and some friends of mine went out for drinks and…well, I had too many.”

  Adina nodded slowly. “How many did you have?”

  “Well…two.”

  Adina raised her eyebrows. “Two drinks?”

  “Yeah,” he said defensively, “but they were abnormally large drinks.”

  “Aaah, were they then?”

  He ran a hand through his blond hair once more, giving out a little laugh. “To be honest, I don’t remember. Like I said, I don’t remember much of that night. But according to what my friends told me, I apparently decided that it would be a good idea to jump up on the stage in front of the tavern’s singer and, well…perform.”

  Adina found herself laughing. There was something about the man’s bumbling demeanor that made her want to trust him. After the things she’d seen in the last months, the people she’d dealt with, his innocence was refreshing. “You sang, then.”

  He coughed. “And danced.”

  “Well, were you good at least?”

  “Terrible,” he admitted with a laugh, “and I somehow managed to fall off the stage onto a table. It wasn’t a particularly strong
table either, and it broke beneath my weight. I went around the next day to pay the tavern keeper for the damages, of course,” he finished hurriedly.

  “That was kind of you,” Adina said.

  “He didn’t seem to think so,” the man said, sighing, “threatened to fine me for the loss of business if I showed my face there again.”

  He shook his head regretfully and took a drink of his ale. Adina eyed the glass. “Should I be worried, then? If there is going to be a free show, I’d at least like to be warned. It will give me time to step away from any nearby tables.”

  The man laughed good-naturedly at that. “Oh, I won’t finish it,” he said, eyeing the glass of ale almost sadly. “I never do. Anyway, now you know the story, and I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself. And come underdressed too,” he said, glancing down at his plain uniform. “In truth, I hadn’t expected you to show at all. You must think me a complete fool.”

  Adina saw a chance to steer the conversation to the topic she really cared about and she took it. “Oh, your uniform is fine with me, I promise. My father was a guard many years ago. In fact, he actually spent some time in the Galian city guard.”

  “Is that right?” the man said, sounding surprised.

  “It is,” Adina said, nodding, and reminding herself to take it one step at a time. It wouldn’t do to seem too eager or too curious. “So you’ve nothing to worry about with the uniform you wear. I saw my father’s old one many times growing up in a trunk he kept in his room, along with his old sword and armor. I have found, over the years, that I’ve a special place in my heart for guards—and fools alike.”

  The guard grinned at that. “Well, I cover those two, at least. Anyone who knows me could tell you that. About your father though, that’s interesting. I haven’t seen you in the city before.”