by Robert Evert
Then an idea shot to mind.
Running to the building, he cast open its door.
Inside a fire burned brightly in a center fire pit, illuminating rows of wooden tables, many on their sides or tipped over. Scantily clad women strutted around, serving drinks to burly men with muscles covering their mountainous bodies. There was shouting and steins of beer crashing across the room. Several of the men were entertaining women sitting on their laps.
Are you sure this is wise? They might turn you in.
We need men who can fight and they can fight!
Setting Thorax down, Edmund climbed on top of one of the tables and waved his arms.
Nobody paid him any notice.
He pushed back his hood, hoping that none of them were on the lookout for a one-eyed man who stuttered.
“Excuse me,” he said, trying not to stammer.
The uproar continued unabated.
“Ex-excuse me,” he repeated louder.
Still no one took notice of him.
Come on, get their attention!
Edmund screamed, “Hey!”
Everyone fell silent. A room full of enormous men and the serving girls peered at him, startled.
“I, I, I . . . I’m, I’m terribly sorry, sirs,” Edmund began, not really knowing what to say. “But I need your help. You see—”
One of the knights shouted, “A song!”
Everybody began clapping or banging their fists on the tables.
“Yes, give us a song, master dwarf!”
“I’m not a dwarf,” Edmund called out, to little effect.
More cheering and thumping shook the room. Somebody started singing. Others joined in. Soon the entire tavern bounced with an old drinking tune.
“Hey!” Edmund screamed even louder.
They quieted.
“Good sirs, please listen!” he said. “I need your help rescuing a w-w-woman!”
“Is she pretty?” someone shouted.
Several knights snickered.
“How big are her breasts?” somebody else asked, to even greater laughter.
This is of no use. They’re all drunken louts.
I have to try.
You’re never going to get their attention.
Maybe I can . . .
Reaching into his pocket, Edmund snatched the Star of Iliandor and held it aloft for all to see. Bewildered, the men around him stared at it, murmuring.
“What’s that?” a man with flaming red hair asked, standing up with an effort. The woman on his lap fell to the floor.
“This,” Edmund announced, trying to sound as awe-inspiring as he could, “this is the Star of Iliandor!”
“What the hell is that?”
“The, the . . . the King, King Lionel, has issued an edict,” Edmund called out, pausing for dramatic effect. “Whoever brings him the Star of Iliandor will be granted lordship over Iliandor’s former fiefdom!”
This got some of their scattered attention.
“So why don’t you just give it to Old Yellowhair?”
More giggling.
“I’d like to give it to him,” somebody grumbled. “Right between the eyes.”
“Why? You wouldn’t hit anything he uses.”
The room exploded into drunken laughter. Several of the knights rolled around on the beer-sodden floor.
“Good Sirs!” Edmund shouted. “Good Sirs! Please, it’s a matter of honor!”
Most of the knights quieted down again.
A knight with tattoos of snakes intertwining around his bulging biceps said, “Go on. What’s this all about?”
“My love—” Edmund stopped, fighting back the emotion surging up in him. “My love is being held by goblins. I need your skill, your, your . . . swords. Whoever helps me can have this!” He shook the Star over his head. “And will become Lord of the Highlands!”
“Highlands?” somebody repeated. “Who the hell would want to be Lord of the Highlands?”
“Who would want to be a Lord, period?” another knight replied.
The knight with the tattoos actually seemed interested, and relatively sober. “Goblins, you say? Where? We crushed them into pulp.”
A great cheer went up, twenty steins rising into the air at once. Calls for more drinks rang out.
Don’t blow this.
“In the . . . in the northern mountains,” Edmund hollered over the cheering. “There are still a few goblins to the far north. Just a few here and there, you see. They hide in deep caves.”
Nobody seemed to be paying attention. Two knights in the far corner began singing. Another knight grabbed a serving girl who was walking by and lifted her high into the air. She squealed as the tray she was carrying fell clattering to the floor.
“As, as, as I was saying,” Edmund said, trying to shout louder without having his voice go shrill. “I need . . . I need skilled mercenaries to rescue her!”
More knights joined in the song. The serving girl who had been hoisted into the air was now being passed around from table to table, her insincere demands to be put down being ignored.
“Who, who, whom . . . whomever helps me . . . whomever helps me can have this!” Edmund shook the Star of Iliandor above his head again.
The serving girl being passed around the room fell through somebody’s upraised hands and thudded on the floor, her face bouncing in a pool of beer. The knights around her howled, falling off their chairs and benches in the process.
“I have a question for you,” a drunken knight said to Edmund, his head wobbling on his thick neck. “What’s stopping us from just beating the crap out of you, taking that thingamabob, and turning it over to Old Yellowhair right now?”
Uh oh!
I hadn’t thought of that . . .
Edmund’s mouth went dry.
Many of the knights were grinning, all blurry-eyed, at him. Several exchanged knowing glances. One winked.
Do something!
With a shaking hand, Edmund drew forth his scimitar and said, “My sword! And my love for Molly. That’s what would stop you!”
All motion in the tavern stopped.
Oh no. What have I done?
Twenty knights blinked at Edmund. The ones lying on the floor got to their knees. Benches creaked under the weight of their occupants as they leaned forward. For several heartbeats, they all stared at Edmund.
Then one of the knights slowly got to his feet, pointed at Edmund, and shouted, “Get this man a drink!”
Suddenly a shower of beer flew at Edmund from all directions.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Edmund stepped out of the Knights’ Tavern, dripping beer.
Another colossal failure.
It was worth a try.
Limping next to him, Thorax shook herself, spraying people passing by.
Is there anybody in this damn city who isn’t insane or a drunkard?
“Master Edmund,” Toby exclaimed, opening the stable door. “What happened with the enforcer? Did you get everything cleared up? Is everything okay?”
Then he noticed that Edmund was creating a sudsy puddle in the street.
“What the heck happened to you? Oh, I know! You were celebrating your lordship, weren’t you?” Even greater excitement leapt into his voice. “Tell me about the King! What happened? What’s he like? Tell me everything! When can you make me a knight?”
“Hello, Toby,” Edmund said, brushing the beer from his eye. “It’s a . . . it’s a long story.” Pulling the sopping hood over his head to hide his face, he glanced around. “Listen, I need your help.”
“Sure! Name it.” The boy beamed. “By the way, I have your packages at home. I didn’t want them to get dirty in the stables. If you need them, I can run and get them straight away. Just say the word!”
“What? No. No, in fact, you can have them.” Edmund said. “Sell them if you can.”
“Really? They cost you a fortune!”
“They’re all yours. As a matter of fact . . . ” Edmund pulled out t
he pouch of coins he had conned from the charlatan shopkeeper. “Here.”
Toby opened the pouch and gasped.
“By the gods! Where did you get all of this?”
“Never mind about that. It’s all yours. You’ve earned it.”
“How?” Toby asked, fingering the gold coins.
“By helping me when I needed help the most. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”
Toby started counting the gold coins, struggling once he got past thirteen.
“I need you to have Blake saddled and ready to go tonight,” Edmund said. “By the middle of the night, in fact. Can you do that?”
Still clutching the pouch, Toby looked sidelong at Edmund.
“You aren’t in any trouble with the law, are you? I mean . . . you, you aren’t a killer like that enforcer said, right?” He fingered the pile of coins in his hands as if they had blood on them. “I mean, you didn’t rob anybody or anything like that. You’re a, a lord now, right? A real lord who can make people knights and everything!”
Lie.
“Yes, I’m now Lord Edmund of the Highlands,” he said, with a flamboyant bow.
Toby laughed, his expression easing considerably.
A couple blocks away, a bearded man in a grey cloak fought his way through the crowd, his head twisting and turning as if he was looking for somebody. Edmund motioned for Toby to walk with him to a less busy side street.
“I’m a lord,” Edmund repeated, getting out of view. “That’s how I got the money. The King gave it to me. You know, just to get things started up north and all.”
That seemed to make sense to Toby.
“But I can’t take office yet. I . . . I have to rescue that woman I told you about.”
Edmund guided Toby to the grazing yard behind the stables.
“What about Sir Hanley and the bandits?”
What?
“Oh yes,” Edmund said quickly, glancing back to make sure they hadn’t been followed. “The, the King has sent reinforcements. Everything will be fine. I’m going to return Sir Hanley’s horse straight away.”
Starting over, Toby resumed counting the gold coins.
“But I need Blake ready and everything,” Edmund asked. “Can you do that for me?”
“Okay, but . . . why in the middle of the night?”
Yes, why?
“Because I need to leave as soon as possible, but I . . . I have a couple of errands to run first. I have to get supplies and all of that.” Edmund’s stomach grumbled. “And I’m famished. Not to mention I have to get cleaned up.” He gestured to the soaked clothes clinging to his body. “I won’t be ready to depart for several hours, but I’d rather leave earlier than later, if you get me.”
Coins in both hands, Toby nodded, as if mulling over Edmund’s logic.
“So can you have him ready?” Edmund asked again.
A doubtful look seeped into Toby’s face. “Are you still going to make me one of your personal knights?”
Poor kid. He’s going to be devastated.
“Absolutely. But you have to wait until you’re sixteen. Finish your apprenticeship and then come see me in Rood.”
Toby grinned ear to ear. “Then Blake will be ready to go! He’s been pining away for Sir Hanley, anyway. He’ll race all the way back north like he’s on the wind.”
Good, because I’ll need all the speed that I can get.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Edmund paused, scanning the dimly lit street down which he and Thorax had just crept. For the second time that night, he thought that he was being followed. Thorax seemed to sense it as well. She kept turning around, ears perked, body stiff. However, after waiting many still moments in a dark alley, he couldn’t detect anybody else out and about.
Come on! Get the book and get out of here.
Edmund shot up the stairs to the doors of the book lenders, Thorax in his arms. If somebody stopped him, he’d insist that he was merely out for a midnight stroll, him and his lame dog. Maybe he’d pretend that he was drunk. That wouldn’t be too hard. He still reeked of the knights’ beer.
Stepping up to the double doors, he gave one last fleeting glimpse around. There was nobody in sight, but he still wasn’t sure. After being in the mines so long, he learned to trust his instincts.
What are you so afraid of? You’re alone. Get the book and get out of here!
He touched one of the doors.
“Forstørre nå!”
The thick wooden door attempted to expand, but the masonry around it wouldn’t budge. The door cracked and buckled inward, splitting the yellow “Book Lenders” sign in two. Shoving the fractured door open, Edmund slipped inside.
Feeling his way through the darkness with outstretched hands, Edmund found the storage rooms and bumped into the ladder that Edith had used to reach the top shelf. Setting Thorax down, he pushed it to where he guessed the book was hidden, the ladder’s legs sending a muted screech through the darkness as they vibrated across the unseen floor.
You’re noisier than Pond!
I’m fine. There’s nobody around.
Climbing up, he swept his hands about the top shelf. They hit something, a square box made of flimsy wood.
A crate.
Yes, but is it the right one?
Fine dust caked the scrolls jutting out of its top.
Hopefully this is it.
He pushed the crate aside, sending another screech of vibrating wood slashing through the utter silence. Extending his hands further into the blackness, his fingertips felt the familiar sensation of worn leather. They latched onto the book’s binding and dragged it from its hiding spot. With his arms clutching the sizable tome to his chest, he carefully descended the ladder.
Now you’re a thief! You’re hardly turning into the heroes you always worshipped.
Better to put it to good use than to let it rot on some cobweb-infested shelf.
“Edmund,” a female voice said, matter-of-factly.
Edmund halted, his feet perched three rungs above the storage room floor somewhere in the darkness below.
Edith?
It sounded like the librarian’s voice. Yet it had an assertive quality to it, a sharpness that Edith had never shown.
“Thorax?” Edmund said, alarmed that his companion hadn’t warned him of the newcomer’s presence.
“She’s fine,” the female voice said. “She’s right here with me.”
“Who . . . who are you?”
“First answer this,” she said in a calm, yet firm, tone. “Do you know how to read the runes in that book?”
Edmund’s right boot found a lower rung. He stepped down, wondering if moving would place him or Thorax in greater peril.
“No. No, I can’t. But I’ve seen them before. In a tome I found in a troll’s la-la-lair up north. They’re quite exceptional.”
“Indeed, exceptional is an apt description.”
There was a silence. Edmund strained his ears, attempting to determine whether anybody else was nearby. But all he could hear was shallow breathing a few feet from his left leg and his heart pounding against the heavy book.
“Look,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed. “I’ve dealt with enough unseen voices to last a lifetime. So, if you don’t mind, can we discuss this in the light? I can explain everything. There’s n-no, no need to call for the authorities.”
There was blue flash and the subtle aroma of oily smoke. When Edmund’s vision adjusted to the light, he saw Edith standing beside his ladder, stroking Thorax’s stomach, a curved dagger in her hand.
How did she—?
“You’re a magic user!” he said, the tome nearly sliding out of his startled grasp.
“As are you,” Edith said, still petting Thorax’s stomach.
She’s holding that knife like she’s used it before.
If she wanted to kill you, she would have done it by now.
Don’t be too sure.
Edmund stepped off the ladder, clutching the book to his ch
est as if it were his last possession.
“I need this. I’m, I’m sorry . . . but I have to take it.”
“Why?”
“It’s a matter of life and death.”
“Whose life?” she asked, softly. “Whose death?”
You don’t have time for this. Hit her with the book and run like hell out of here.
Hit a woman? Shall I burn her eye out as well?
“There’s, there’s this . . . this woman,” Edmund said. “Molly. She’s being held captive by goblins up north. I know that sounds crazy. But they still exist up in the mountains. Thousands of them!”
Edith’s expression grew grave. “And you plan on giving them the book in exchange for her freedom?”
“What? No. No, I need the maps . . . the layout of the tower where she’s being held so I can rescue her.”
“Tower?”
“It’s a long story. Please . . . I need this book.”
The knife lowered slightly. “You’re risking your life to rescue a woman?”
“I have to,” Edmund said. “I love her.”
“You’re probably going to die in the attempt,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Edmund found himself saying, his voice cracking in his desperation. “But I have to try. Please . . . ”
Edith patted Thorax’s belly and stood. Rolling over, Thorax shuffled to Edmund, smiling.
Traitor.
“Don’t think too harshly of your friend,” Edith said, as if reading Edmund’s thoughts. “She a noble breed and there’s more to her than you realize.”
Thorax peered up at Edmund, pink tongue hanging out of her mouth. She pawed at his leg. Begrudgingly, Edmund scratched her ears.
“Had I listened to you,” he said, “I’d still have my eye . . . and Molly would be safe.”
Edith sheathed her dagger.
“Edmund,” she said, “copy the pages that you need and go save your love. If you survive, we’ll meet again. There are other, more pressing, matters I’d like us to discuss with you.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. Thank you.”
“And we’ll take care of the enforcer looking for you,” Edith said.
We?
“But stop using your abilities so frivolously. Your trick on the shopkeeper drew far more attention than you can imagine, and not just from the authorities. As will what you did to the front door.” Her brown eyes grew cold. “There are far more dangerous entities in this world than Kar-Nazar, Edmund of Rood.”