by Andrew Lynch
A modest pile of meat and water had been left within reach of the wolf, who seemed to be on the mend after a week and a half of recovery, and was moving around, if somewhat limply, testing the limits of its leash.
After the team crossed a few intersections, the first locals started appearing. Ones and twos for the first few streets, obviously the outliers. Soon there was a large crowd. Many were carrying buckets of water, plodding to and from wells and streams to the nearest smouldering building. Lucian assumed this was the effort winding down after a frantic night.
There was a man in the middle of the main square who was clearly in charge of the crisis. He was shouting directions in a hoarse voice from on top of a platform. Probably a theatrical stage until it was requisitioned for the emergency.
A small group of villagers were gathered around the platform. They seemed to be the official gawking section of the cleanup effort. Lucian decided that was a good place to start and nudged his way into the middle. Jess and Darrius were working the outside of the square where lots of tired people rested.
Before Darrius got too far, Lucian had to ask, ‘Darrius! Am I mistaken or was Jess being... nice?’
‘Well, that’s a big question, sir,’ Darrius replied. ‘I don’t think any of us really understand her all too well. In discussions we think it’s because she’s an Elf, but my guess would be that, yes, she was being nice.’
‘That’s a positive sign!’ Lucian said.
‘Having never seen it before, can’t say for sure, sir!’ Darrius said, and turned to his task.
‘Team three! Buckets up!’ At this shout from the man on the stage, activity surged from several men sitting around the outside of the square.
A large man stood next to Lucian, arms crossed, judging the man on the platform. He had a jaw like granite. A miner, Lucian guessed from his build, just like most of the people in this town, and dressed similarly with a regal red cloak over scruffy clothes. Clearly this was the local fashion, as everyone seemed to sport the same look. However while most others wore a variety of colours under their cloaks, This man’s was all red.
‘Hail,’ Lucian said conversationally, so as not to draw too much attention.
‘Wouldn’t like that now, no,’ the man replied seriously.
‘No, no indeed. Say, what’s all this about?’
‘Fire, brimstone, end of days, all the usual.’
‘It can’t be that bad,’ Lucian said, hoping this wasn’t the general consensus. ‘I heard it was a well known Hero?’
‘That it was, yup. Famous hero and some giant squawking bird. Started all friendly, but it turns out giant birds can’t hold their drink.’
‘Giant birds burn down stables when they get drunk?’
‘Who knows. Never seen one before. Why do you want to know?’ With this the man turned to face Lucian. The man was in the crowd of gawkers not to gawk, but to sell food at this spectacle. ‘Markun’s the name.’
He could be a great source of information as he would have been there the whole time to maximise profits, but negotiating was not Lucian’s forte. He wished Khleb had been there to handle this for him.
‘Markun? And you are selling...’ Lucian looked at the assortment of things shoved in various pockets. ‘Meat?’
‘That’s right, Markun’s meat. I sell other things of course. If you see it, I'll sell it.’
‘So... if I wanted to buy, say, the stage that man is standing on?’
Markun sucked in air through his teeth, the classic appraisers breath. ‘I can do that for you, sure. Won’t be cheap. I know the local carpenter, he sold that particular stage a while back. Technically, due to a bizarre local law, he couldn’t actually sell the stage to the local officials and could only rent it. Anti-corruption laws from the capital, you see. Subsequently, the rental agreement can be broken with a week’s notice. Fifty silver and it’s yours in a week. One gold and it’s yours in an hour. Either way, I’m letting you rob me blind!’
‘I hadn’t expected you to be quite so... legitimate. I was expecting you to steal it,’ Lucian admitted.
‘I am offended, yet take no offence. An understandable notion, but I assure you I am nothing but an honest purveyor of goods. Also, stages are notoriously difficult to steal.’
‘Well then, how about a straight up sale. I want information, you want my money.’
‘Hmm. Can’t be done. Information selling is squarely out of my remit. Trader’s license doesn’t allow for it.’
‘Oh. Well, where would I find an information vendor?’
‘Now hold on, friend, hold on. I have an excess of stock, and there’s nothing wrong with two friends talking. I suppose if you were to buy several of my wares, I wouldn’t be opposed to talking to an old friend,’ Markun suggested.
Lucian knew this game and needed the information. At least the team would end up with some extra... meat. The wolf would be happy. And Khleb.
‘Very well, Markun. I suppose I do find myself in need of some miscellaneous goods. Perhaps I could purchase them while we talk about the local situation regarding passing Heroes, and their crimes which resulted in messengers being sent out to warn surrounding cities and the capital. Old friend.’
‘Here’s two meats on sticks. That will be ten silver. I'll have to sell my horse to be able to recoup my losses at this price, but it’s worth it for a friend!’
Lucian baulked at the price, but reminded himself he was paying for information, not the seven-copper meats on sticks. As he handed over the silver, another order was barked by the man on the platform.
General chattering from the gawkers rose up at this order. Lucian had no idea why.
‘So as I understand it, and I’m really only guessing here,’ Markun began, his arms winding up to really get involved in his speech. ‘A chap named Moxar and a large bird creature - never seen the like of it before, but we're a very accepting community, just ask Francis - came into town yesterday about midday. They rented two rooms at “The Little Pony”, one a normal room and one “king’s suite”. Because it had lots of shiny baubles hanging in it for the bird, apparently. They rested a bit before heading to a local stable on Cobble Road, specifically the one now burned to the ground.’
He was a gesticulator, and Lucian couldn’t help but notice that his main arm motion seemed oddly reminiscent of stabbing someone with a knife. Maybe the meat on stick industry was more cutthroat than he thought.
‘And why did it find itself burned to the ground?’
‘Ahh well. Not there yet, my friend. First, why not try this delightful...’ Markun dug around in an inside pocket and pulled a small contraption out. ‘Pocket watch. Only ten silver for a friend.’
Lucian handed over the money with a sigh, and pocketed the watch, allowing Markun to continue.
‘The owner assures me nothing occurred but a genial chat regarding the purchase of his finest stock. Apparently they then took in the local sights - as the rather fetching couple that they were - and then headed over for a late night tipple in “The Midnight Stallion”, a well regarded local watering hole and tavern.’
At this point, a small man dressed in the same red as Markun appeared out of nowhere, put his hand on Markun’s shoulder, and said something Lucian couldn’t hear. Markun turned and bolted out of the crowd, the smaller man hot on his tail. Clearly the information merchants enforced their business seriously. Although those red robes did seem familiar to Lucian, but he couldn’t quite place them. They must have just been the local traders garb.
After the commotion, Darrius and Jess appeared at Lucian’s side.
‘What have you done now, Lucian?’ Jess accused.
‘I don’t think it was me,’ Lucian said. ‘Did you find anything?’
‘An in-depth knowledge of how the fire defence system works,’ Jess said.
‘Apparently having a stable or two burn down isn’t that uncommon,’ Darrius admitted. ‘Heated rivalries between breeding stocks.’
‘Good effort, and you neve
r know, it may come in handy.’ Lucian consoled them. ‘However, I think I found out where we need to go next.’
The Midnight Stallion was surrounded by horses on all sides, and the trio had to barge their way through. The inside was well lit and doing a roaring trade, literally. All conversations had to be shouted. Several tables were set aside for gambling in one form or another - dicey cardy was the big game these days. A good thing Khleb wasn’t here. Darrius and Jess mingled with the crowd and tried their luck at digging out information, hoping for more success this time.
Lucian searched for the owner, but after several minutes with no luck, found a certain meats-on-sticks vendor sitting at the bar. Markun.
‘What happened back there?’ Lucian asked, after catching his eye. Although he’d proven to be a vendor of undetermined meats, Lucian couldn’t shake the feeling he was something more. He was built like a slab of marble.
‘Haha! Nothing to worry about. As I said, those shadowy buggers don’t much approve of others muscling in on their business,’ Markun replied. ‘Don’t worry. Turned out I had something to take care of. All worked out for the best. That’s how it is in this tight-knit community.’
‘Okay... Well, what brings you here?’
‘Oh, this and that, nothing to concern yourself with... what was your name again?’
‘Lucian. Lucian Huxley.’
‘Huckers! I suppose you want the rest of your information?’
‘Clearly you’ve got me pigeonholed,’ Lucian said, not too thrilled with the change of his last name. ‘So tell me, what did Moxar get up to here?’
‘Don’t need to ask me, everyone saw it!’ Markun shouted over the racket.
‘Right, but what was it exactly?’ Lucian shouted back.
‘Hold on, hold on! Come in here.’ Markun led him to a cramped back room, with a desk taking up so much space the door didn’t fully open. The big man slid round the side, crushed between the desk and a tiny bookshelf that was being used for everything but books. Lucian closed the door behind him, awkwardly, and found a fold-out chair was pinned to the back of the door. Rather ingenious, he felt...
‘Five silver for the chair,’ Markun said flatly, not having to shout any more.
Lucian sighed and handed the money over, taking a seat. For the first time, Lucian noticed that Markun also sported a chain around his neck. A chunky braid of hemp ran around his neck with a bronze shield dangling at his chest. It looked plain and boring aside from a single smudge of blue, barely visible.
‘I was made aware that the recent commotion was caused by a passing Hero, Moxar and his companion, but I don’t know what happened,’ Lucian explained. ‘Also, why do you own a room in this tavern?’
‘That’s how far we got was it? Huckers, I’m a fan of the arts, as you can tell.’ Markun pointed to a stamp sized drawing hung on the wall. ‘Who wouldn’t be? So, when I see a bonafide work of art walk through my tavern door, I find myself intrigued. I offer a few free drinks and ask some questions.’
‘Your tavern door?’ Lucian asked.
‘That’s what I said. Keep up!’ Markun chided. ‘Moxar tells me about some epic quest, a messenger, a dark presence, the Gods being laid low, all the usual. Then, it happens.’
‘Yes, go on,’ Lucian said eagerly, finally getting to learn what happened.
‘The bird thing he was with? Went by the name... well, we just called him X. Decides he’s going to try some of my gambling tables, but has no money.’ Markun thought for a second. ‘Isn’t it odd that heroes have no money? I mean, I can buy a tunic with Moxar’s face on it, but he can’t afford to buy more than a few ales.’
‘That’s odd,’ Lucian said a bit too quickly. ‘Wouldn’t know anything about it.’
‘Anyway, after losing a few rounds of dicey cardy, at one of the tables X offers to pay with a golden bangle.’ Markun whistled at the memory of it. ‘This was... wow. Being the upstanding folk we are, of course, we explained that it was far too much and we were playing for coppers. I did offer to sell it on for him at a reasonable price, but he declined.’
‘So, someone stole this treasure from under his nose - uhh, beak - after he revealed it?’ Lucian guessed.
‘What?’ Markun asked, confused. ‘No, what’s wrong with you! I run good security in here, and these are decent folk. No, X offered us a song to repay his debts. He said it was something that his people rarely showed outsiders.’
‘Oh,’ Lucian replied. He had expected something rather different.
‘That was most people’s response, yup. Enchanting.’ Markun’s eyes looked into the distance, which was quite a feat in this two metre square room.
‘Right. Umm - about the fires and the messengers?’
‘Hmm? Oh yes. Well, after his song converted several of my patrons to the God’s shrines, and a few more vowed to seek out the Aviq and live among them, they told me they were retiring for the night. I offered them a room for free, but they already had one elsewhere.’
‘So... to clarify, nothing had happened that would explain any of this by the time they left your tavern?’ Lucian asked, feeling a bit deflated.
‘Nope. Great guys they were.’
‘Do you have any relevant information?’ Lucian asked.
‘I most certainly do not! However, if you were to buy this...’ Markun rummaged around on one of his shelves, after looking around the room suspiciously. ‘Small figurine. Had this junk lying around for ages, no idea what it’s supposed to be, so having a friend take it off my hands would loosen my lips. Plus five silver, of course.’
Lucian sighed. ‘I can’t think of anything more useful than a small whittled figure.’
‘They said they were turning in for the night. However, I have it on good authority that they actually returned to the stable that ended up being burned down. You should talk to the owner. He’d probably know what happened next.’
‘Super,’ Lucian said tersely. ‘I’d better get on that quickly. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Markun.’
Lucian and Markun spent a solid minute trying to negotiate the two of them getting out of the office. Lucian was suppressing his anger at being led on a wild goose chase by this odd man who was clearly just trying to swindle him. Once again, Lucian wished Khleb had been there to sort this out - cutthroat-based negotiation skills had proved surprisingly useful on the Quest so far.
Darrius and Jess had reported nothing but ear-destroying renditions of people trying to replicate the song Xly’dia had sung the night before.
‘I just don’t see the fascination,’ Darrius admitted as the trio walked through the square again, sparing a glance for the man on the platform still shouting orders to the fire fighters.
Lucian had almost forgotten that Darrius was a bard until this moment. He never seemed to have an instrument out, and he never sang. Until now. The occasional ear piercing shriek sounded from his throat as they walked.
‘It doesn’t sound comfortable, let alone good,’ Darrius said. ‘Hardly even bearable.’
‘You must be getting it wrong,’ Lucian said.
‘He is replicating what we heard perfectly,’ Jess said.
‘Well, maybe let’s wait till we hear the song from the bird itself,’ Lucian said.
‘It’s an Aviq,’ Jess corrected.
‘Yes, I must say, sir, awfully impolite of you,’ Darrius agreed.
‘But he’s just a giant...’ Lucian protested.
‘Aviq,’ Jess and Darrius said together.
‘You’re almost as bad as Khleb, sir.’ Darrius shook his head.
Lucian thought of the implications. ‘Aviq. He’s just a giant Aviq.’
It was easy to find the stables. The ruins were still releasing embers to the wind, even as the sun was going down.
‘Shouldn’t they be done by now?’ Darrius asked.
‘The flames are out, there’s not much more for the villagers to be done with,’ Lucian replied. ‘A bit of smouldering just gives them a nice glow. A highlight for
anyone trying to find them.’
‘I meant Gar. And Khleb, I suppose.’
‘I'd been wondering that too. Maybe they handled the messengers, but can’t find us?’ Lucian guessed.
‘It is far more likely that something has gone wrong,’ Jess said.
‘Yes, thank you, Jess,’ Lucian said. ‘I was trying to stay positive.’
‘There is no point worrying about it now. Our concern is which stable owner to interrogate first.’
‘Firstly, we don’t interrogate, we question,’ Lucian said, surveying the smouldering stables. ‘Secondly, I don’t think that will be an issue.’ He moved towards one where the owner was relaxing against a partially burned wall.
‘Should I even ask?’
‘Ask what?’ Markun said, his voice gravelly. Lucian wondered why he kept thinking of rocks whenever he saw the man.
‘You own this stable, don’t you?’
‘I like to keep my finger in many pies, sure.’
‘Do you feel this would perhaps have been relevant to mention earlier?’ Lucian asked, almost relieved to get confirmation that his previous feeling that Markun wasn’t on the level was correct.
‘Now that you mention it, I suppose it does have some relevance. Oh well, hindsight, wonderful thing, and all that.’
‘So, after they talked to you about buying horses, they went to your tavern, and after they left there, they went back to… talk to you?’
‘That’s about how it happened, yup!’ Markun admitted.
‘Right. So what do I need to buy to get the rest of the story?’
Markun had begun rummaging through his pockets, when a shout came from behind the trio. ‘Magistrate! Magistrate!’