Octavian rolled first, the chipped dice rattling across the table. The faces showed a five and a two. The gypsy shrugged his shoulders; not bad for a first roll. Kerian winced, then looked at the magical dice and tried to think. How did Octavian make these things work? He picked up the dice weighed them in his hand and threw them.
A two and a one stared back at him, making Octavian laugh aloud.
“Oh dear.” The gypsy smirked. “Guess you are going out there on your own.” Kerian mentally kicked himself. How did the smug youth make these damned dice dance?
“For the sword.” Octavian laughed rattling the wonky battered dice across the table. A two and a four stared back. Kerian closed his eyes willing himself to roll a good score. If he had a good sword at least he could skewer the arrogant man to the wall.
A four and a two stared back at him.
“A draw. Too bad.” Octavian winked. “First roll wins. Maybe if you ask the barman, he will lend you a butter knife to use on your travels? I believe it’s the transport next.” The dice clattered again. A five and a four this time, the four having three dots in black and one coloured in with blue ink. Kerian could not believe his eyes. What was with this man and dice. He felt himself flushing. Felt the heat rising beneath his clothes. Why was it so hot in here? He threw the magical blue dice watching the golden dots spinning on the utmost faces. A six and a two.
“Three for three.” The gypsy taunted. “I hope you have a sturdy pair of boots, because by my reckoning wherever you are going to, it’s going to be by foot. There is only one more roll to go. The important one. The information. It all rides on this one.” The dice clattered on the table, the upper face showed a five and a six. Octavian’s face broke into the widest grin possible.
Kerian looked at the dice that had betrayed him so badly and realised this was his last chance. He thought about the time they had spent in jail together. Tried to remember anything that gave him a clue as to how the man had made the dice respond to his wishes. He knew, whatever he did now would live with him forever. His life, his very future all depended on this roll. He went to open his hand then paused, a visible shake present in his fist.
“What’s the delay?” Octavian joked, licking his lips in anticipation, his eyes moving towards the saddlebags imagining the wealth within.
What was it? What did Octavian do. Was it the way he held the dice when he threw them? Did he stroke the face he wanted to roll up? Could it be telepathy? This was his last chance. He closed his eyes trying to ignore the dryness in his mouth as his mind replayed the last dice roll that he had seen Octavian do. He replayed it in his mind; the gypsy sitting on his bunk in the jail cell, lifting his hand to roll the dice. What did he do? What was the secret of the dice?
“Come on Kerian. I don’t have all night. There is wine song and women awaiting me now I have the funds to spare.” Octavian moved to reach for the saddlebags causing Kerian to reach over and grab him tightly by the wrist.
“You haven’t won yet.” Kerian snapped. “You don’t get as much as a crystal until I have rolled.”
“Then get on with it!” Octavian replied. “The suspense is killing me.” Kerian moved to throw the dice once again, then suddenly it came to him.
“If I throw my boat in as well would you let everything ride on this last roll.”
“I thought your boat was being repaired.” Octavian smirked.
“It is,” Kerian replied. “But all the repairs are paid for; I understand the Tulip will be fully refitted when I collect her. As good as new.” Octavian studied Kerian intently; looking for a sign the old man had the upper hand. A tick, a wandering eye, a sweating brow, any kind of tell or clue that would give the gypsy an inkling he was about to be ambushed by the desperate man before him but he could see no sign of anything suspicious.
“Okay.” He nodded his head. “It’s your funeral. Now cast the dice.”
Kerian sat back on the stool. He offered a silent prayer to himself that he was right, promised any gods who wanted to listen a thousand things if they would simply guide his hand and help him be in Colette’s arms once more. Then he threw a smile at the gypsy and rattled the dice in his hands, leaning forwards to make his roll. Octavian also leaned forwards; anxiously awaiting the roll that he hoped would change his future and release the funds he needed to return to his clan and save his family.
Kerian brought his closed fist up to his face then kissed the dice he held, before letting both of their futures fall from his hand.
Chapter Nine
Octavian brought his finger to his lips and motioned that Kerian remain quiet before he stepped out from the shadows and scanned the empty street ahead. He gestured for Kerian to join him and then turned to face the large set of closed gates that blocked their path back into Wellruff’s market.
“What are we doing here?” Kerian hissed. “The people I need to catch left here hours ago.”
“Don’t you think I already know this?” Octavian turned with a frown across his features. “Just be quiet. There is a night watchman in the square and we need to avoid being seen.”
“But why?”
Octavian ignored him, stepped over to the centre of the gates and pushed lightly on the wood, hoping against hope that the guard had not locked them. The thoughts of boosting the old man over the top of the obstruction did not bare thinking about. The gate creaked slightly, the sound amplified by the tension the gypsy felt inside him, then it swung ajar, revealing a dense darkness within. Octavian ducked his head inside, scanning for the lantern the watchman used to light his way and upon seeing no sign of it, beckoned for Kerian to follow him.
“Where are we going?” Kerian whispered. “If you work here why can’t you just walk in as usual?”
“That’s not going to work at this time of night.” Octavian replied. Thinking to himself that was especially true with what he was planning to do. He continued muttering under his breath as he stepped lightly into the deserted marketplace, cursing the fact that Kerian had won the roll of the dice, tricking him into meeting his four demands.
The information on the market traders was not a problem; he knew their names, where they were going and how to catch up with them. The sword and armour were an issue that Octavian did not even want to consider. He had a few ideas where he could get a decent blade and a suit of chainmail but knew this would be an expense he could good ill afford. Acting as a guide also meant taking valuable time away from his own problems but at least he was a step closer to resolving these than a few days ago. He just had to lose his new shadow somehow. The gypsy patted his pocket and tried to calm himself, confident his dark secret remained close to his chest.
This just left transportation. A wry smile played across his lips. He knew just the transportation Kerian could use. If he were lucky, maybe the old man would break his neck, leaving Octavian guilt free to follow his own destiny. He paused in the shelter of an empty stall, listening out for a clink of keys or the fall of heavy footsteps to warn him of the man he knew would be patrolling the market somewhere in the darkness. He really needed to ensure no one saw him here.
Satisfied no one was near, he pulled Kerian after him and arrived at the doors to the equestrian and livestock stalls. A large padlock and chain frustratingly stared back at him.
“I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock?” he whispered.
“I’m afraid not.” Kerian replied. “I do know… no, make that knew, someone who would have managed this in seconds.” His mind flashed back to the time when he had travelled with Ashe and smiled. He remembered how he had once taken the HaIfling to one side and scolded him about stealing from others, yet here he was now, wandering around a deserted market at the dead of night likely to do the same thing. If only Ashe could see him now! He could almost envisage him waving a little finger and tutting loudly.
Muted sounds from within the stables indicated that their proximity had been detected as animals shuffled and moved within. Octavian
held the padlock in his hand then turned and set off along the outside of the building.
“Follow me,” he whispered. “There’s another way in around the back.” The two unlikely figures slinked along the wall, trying to move inconspicuously from shadow to shadow, until they reached the paddock fence. Octavian placed his hands on the top bar then vaulted over the beam with ease, landing lightly on his feet and slipping silently under the awning to the back door.
Kerian looked at the fence and considered his options. He debated climbing over after the gypsy but then he reconsidered. The truth was that since he had lost the enchanted emerald pendant his joints had been aching terribly. He had recently discovered the necklace shielded him from extreme temperatures but it also helped stave off the effects of old age and protected its wearer from the more debilitating effects age could have. This was the initial reason why he had taken it so ruthlessly all those months ago.
Despite the fact the ageing curse was reversing on his body, making him look younger, the loss of the pendant had made all his aches, pains and stiffness in his joints return tenfold. He rolled his neck, feeling the creak of the bones in his spine and reconsidered the jump, pushing his hand against the fence to see if it would hold his weight and sending vibrations running along its length.
He swung up one leg, balancing precariously, preparing to hoist himself over and then noticed two fencing panels along, a gate slowly swinging open.
“Come on!” hissed Octavian from the shadows. “We don’t have all night.”
Kerian looked back at the fence, then over to the gate and decided to take the easy option, walking casually over to the gate, stepping through and then shutting it behind him, placing the latch back in place.
“Don’t you think that was sloppy for your livestock staff to leave the gate open?” Kerian whispered as he crept over to join Octavian at the door to the stables. “Some of the animals could have escaped.”
“What do you care?” Octavian snapped. “Just keep close and don’t make a sound.” Kerian nodded silently in agreement and stepped into the stables, the musky smell of animal hair, sweat and dusty straw, assaulting his nostrils and threatening to make him sneeze.
The stables were about thirty feet long and twenty feet wide, arranged with stalls either side of a central aisle. Each stall contained livestock of some kind. Octavian tinkered about in the darkness with something by the door and then a warm glow flickered to life within a shuttered lantern he held high in his hand.
Kerian allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness of the lantern and gazed into the pens. Orange hued pigs lay curled together in one stall; the baby piglets all lined up in a row within the curled body of the mother sow, contented snuffles rising from the little creatures as they slept. Another stall held ewes and small lambs that bleated at being disturbed. One particularly vocal lamb issuing a protesting ‘baa’ when Kerian moved closer to take in the sight. Horses stood to attention alongside camels and birds roosted with heads tucked beneath wings. The low-lit scene appeared quite surreal in the shuttered light and Kerian found it even more haunting because of it.
Octavian walked into a nearby stall, lifting a blanket, saddle and tack from a stand before turning to the black and white stallion stabled there. With a skill clearly obtained from spending time with horses, the gypsy carefully applied the horse blanket and then slung the saddle over the horse’s back, ensuring the pommel of the saddle was just in front of its withers. He slowly eased the saddle back into place, just behind its thick black mane, then cinched the straps tightly to keep the saddle secure and pulled the harness carefully over his mount’s head, seating the bit in its mouth. Satisfied all was in place, Octavian turned to walk out of the stall, only to notice Kerian watching him.
“Your mount won’t saddle itself.” He gestured, pointing to a stall at the far end of the stable.
“Oh… sorry, yes of course.” Kerian replied, walking to the rack and collecting a saddle, blanket and harness. “My horse is down there then?” Octavian nodded, barely containing his smile.
Kerian turned down the aisle and walked with the saddle slung on one hip. He had forgotten how cumbersome these things could be! He backed into the stall, securing the gate behind him and turned to come face to face with the pale forehead of the massive horse he had seen charging around the corral that morning. The stallion took one look at the intruder in its stall then head-butted him, sending Kerian crashing into the gate he had just closed. Not a stranger to obstinate steeds, Kerian knew he had to step right back in and show the cream and black horse who was boss. He shook his head, rolled up his sleeves and advanced with a steely look of determination in his eye.
Octavian chuckled as he collected some eggs from the chicken coops, carefully gathering them as the thuds and scuffles from the end stall reached his ears. A particularly colourful curse made him pause and look down the passage, expecting to see Kerian come flying out of the stall. A lone figure did stagger out of the darkness but it was from the opposite stall and the man held aloft a lantern, exposing a pale face with bleary eyes and ruffled hair complete with errant pieces of straw. A wicked wooden cudgel swung low to the ground from the man’s right hand. Of all the luck! The night watchman had been sleeping in here! What if Octavian was recognised? He could not afford to be seen stealing horses. He was quite sure they hung people for that around here.
“What’s going on?” the guard asked, staggering closer to the gypsy and completely ignoring the grunts and yelps coming from behind him. “Octavian, what are you doing with those eggs? Is it morning time already?”
So much for not being recognised!
Octavian plastered an innocent smile across his features, throwing his arms wide in greeting as if the two of them were long-lost brothers. The night watchman smiled in return, lowering his guard, presenting the opening Octavian wanted. The gypsy’s right hand swung up, throwing the eggs he held in his hand straight at the guard’s face, before following through with a clenched fist that cracked the man soundly against the side of his head. The lantern in the guard’s hand fell to the floor and smouldered, momentarily forgotten amidst the straw.
The gypsy followed up with a shoulder charge, knocking the man off balance and onto his back, before Octavian landed hard on the man’s chest, hearing the air grunt out of his body. Eggs exploded, showering them both with viscous egg white and golden runny yolk.
“I think my horse has a problem with authority.” Kerian yelled from his stall, unaware of the wrestling match occurring mere feet away as he dodged vicious kicks and sharp bites from the stubborn mount. “He doesn’t seem to want to have a saddle on him and won’t stay still for a second.”
Octavian lifted his head to reply, a long strip of egg dribble dangling from his chin and received a jarring blow to the jaw from the man beneath him. He staggered back enough for the guard to roll free and scoop up his cudgel. The club whistled through the air delivering a serious dent to the woodwork inches from where the gypsy’s head had been, the bang echoing loudly throughout the stables awakening some of the sleeping animals. Octavian charged back in, punching lighting fast jabs to the guard’s ribs and abdomen, desperate to keep the guard breathless and prevent him from calling out an alarm.
“I’m moving as fast as I can.” Kerian replied angrily. “Banging the wood won’t make me move any faster. It has been a while since I have saddled a horse.”
The straw around the lantern sprang into flame.
The animals in the stalls reacted instinctively as a thin curl of smoke spiralled towards the rafters and warm flickering light multiplied. Birds shrieked, horses stamped and neighed, pigs squealed and lambs ran around madly trying to find a way to escape. A hobbled camel tried to lunge for the door in wide-eyed panic and instead found itself crashing through the gate of the stall, its leg unable to support it due to the length of cord that restricted movement. The camel’s head landed heavily on the egg-soaked wrestlers rolling about in the straw, its h
uge stained teeth lashing out, biting down hard on the night watchman’s exposed backside covering his breeches in thick slobber.
“Okay… okay! Give me a moment! Are there any apples out there I can bribe him with?” Kerian shouted growing frustrated at the impatient noises Octavian was making and the way his steed kept trying to push him to one side of the stall and squash him up against the wall. He stuck his head out of the gate and stood mouth ajar as he witnessed the surreal scene of wrestling figures, flailing camels, flames, smoke and penned animals going berserk.
Toledo took this opportunity to break for freedom, crashing out of his stall and knocking Kerian aside before coming up short at the scene, his nostrils flaring at the scent of the fire. The huge stallion turned about in the narrow confines of the walkway and ended up facing Kerian again.
“Get back you dumb horse!” Kerian snapped trying to force the stallion back into its stall. Toledo was having none of it and kept coming, its head crashing solidly into Kerian’s chest, making him grab hold of the horse’s reins in reflex as he was hoisted into the air and barrelled along the stalls. The knight’s boots scrabbled across the ground, trying to find a grip as the stallion charged forward, its head pulled down under its uncooperative passenger’s weight.
“Whoa!” Kerian shouted to no avail. There was nothing for it. He had to do something swiftly or risk being smashed into a beam or crushed into the wall. He let go with one hand and punched the horse as hard as he could on the nose. Toledo skidded to a stop, eyes rolling leaving Kerian hanging from one side of its neck gasping for breath.
A terrifying growl rose from the far end of the stalls where the fire was now really taking hold. Kerian felt his heart skip a beat as the bestial sound reached his ears. What manner of animal was that? He peered through the dazed stallion’s legs and made out several large shapes thrashing about in the smoke, then one of them lifted the other and sent them flying through the air into a stall. A mass of panicked birds took flight at the intrusion, wings cutting through the smoke like scythes, tail feathers igniting as the flames kissed their plumage and marked their trails into the night.
The Labyris Knight Page 16