"Easy, friend," smiled the newcomer. "I'm not so bad off that I would resort to taking a man's meager belongings. The name is Babul. Let me buy you a drink."
"Well met, Babul," nodded Antion, "but I've a few coins left. Still, I appreciate the offer. My name is Gunnar."
"Welcome to Goodland, Gunnar," smiled Babul. "Where are you from?"
The serving woman appeared and Babul ordered two mugs of ale.
"Up north," Gunnar replied vaguely. "How did you know that I was new to Goodland?"
"I saw you ride in," answered the man. "Have you come looking for work?"
"I have," nodded Gunnar. "Do you know of anyone hiring?"
"You're new to Capri then, too," laughed Babul. "You haven't done this before have you?"
"No," Gunnar replied, worried that he was not truly prepared to blend in. "Tell me what I need to know."
The man stared at Gunnar for a few moments without answering. The serving woman sped by dropping two mugs of ale on the table and scooping up the copper coins.
"You're honest," smiled Babul. "Quiet, but honest. That's more than most men who come in here can say. First off, never bother to ask another worker if he knows of anyone who is hiring. That type of information is worth money. It is never given away for free."
"I didn't know," apologized Gunnar.
"That much I understand," chuckled Babul. "There are always less jobs than workers in Capri, and getting a job is competitive, and I mean very competitive. Let me explain what is going to happen soon."
"I am appreciative," nodded Gunnar, "and I insist on buying your next ale."
"Deal," grinned Babul. "I think I might like you, Gunnar from up north. In a short while a bell will ring loudly outside. That bell will indicate that the merchants are prepared to hire. Be careful when you get up to exit the tavern. It will be a stampede. I am not sure why," he laughed, "because nothing starts until everyone is outside."
"So all of these men are looking for work?" Gunnar asked with disappointment clearly evident in his voice.
"Yup," nodded Babul. "The merchants will take turns offering jobs. Almost all of the jobs will be for wagon escorts, but occasionally there are other types. The merchant will state the wages and the route the merchant will be taking. Those that want to apply for the job cross the street and wait."
"Wait?" questioned Gunnar. "If only one of them is to get the job, what are they waiting for?"
"The contest," answered Babul with a twinkle in his eye. "While a merchant could merely choose one of the workers to hire, they seldom know the quality of the men applying for work, so a contest is held. Pairs of men will square off with staffs and fight for the job. The winners of one group will fight the winners of another group until one man wins it all. The merchant usually offers the job to the winner, but he does not have to. He is free to choose anyone he wants."
"So all of these men are going to fight for the few jobs available?" questioned Gunnar.
"That happens every day here," nodded Babul. "Are you sure you still want a job? Sometimes it is easier and safer to become a bandit."
"I must have a job," Gunnar said with determination. "I would never become a bandit and take what rightfully belongs to others."
"A man who thinks he knows right from wrong," chuckled Babul. "There are not many of you left. This is your first day in Goodland. We will see how you feel in a few week's time."
Gunnar finished his ale and placed two copper coins on the table for the next round, but just then a loud bell rang outside. The whole room of men immediately swung into action and raced for the door. Gunnar sat and watched with distaste. He saw men intentionally tripping others and other men kicked those who had fallen. Babul rose and scooped up the copper coins.
"It never hurts if your potential opponent is already wounded when the fighting starts," he laughed. "Good luck, Gunnar from up north."
As almost an afterthought, Babul tossed one of the copper coins back on the table and strode across the room. Gunnar scooped up the coin and made his way outside. The street was crowded and all attention was focused on a finely dressed merchant standing in the middle of the street.
"I have need of two warriors," shouted the merchant. "The route is from Koar to Laborg and back for two silver a day. One of the applicants must be able to cook decently or both will be replaced before Koar. Who wants the jobs?"
The crowd swarmed across the street with only Gunnar and Babul still standing outside the tavern.
"I thought you wanted a job?" questioned Babul.
"I want to see how this works first," replied Gunnar. "Why are you not across the street?"
"I can't cook," laughed Babul, "and I won't waste my time fighting for a job hoping the other winner can cook."
Three-dozen men squared off in pairs, grabbing crudely made staffs that were leaning against the wall of an inn. The fighting began almost immediately. Some of the matches were so uneven that they were over almost as soon as they started, but most were interesting bouts to watch. There were almost as many styles of fighting as there were men, and Gunnar found himself focusing on the best of the fighters.
Gunnar was well trained in the use of a staff, as he was with all weapons, but he was not sure he wanted to display that skill just yet. His desire was to secure a job with as little notice as possible. He also wanted to avoid any routes that took him to Tarent. He also needed to stay out of Anatar at least until his beard grew in. Until his change in appearance took hold, he could not afford to be noticed.
"There are a few nasty fighters among those men," commented Babul. "Are you sure you wish to do this?"
"I must," Gunnar nodded distractedly.
"It's your pretty face," Babul shrugged.
Gunnar ignored Babul and concentrated on the fighting. Eventually the two winners threw down their staffs and approached the merchant. The job seekers all trudged back across the street and crowded in front of the tavern. Within minutes the merchant and his new warriors were gone and the next merchant stepped into the middle of the street. The merchant was an older man with hair turning from gray to white, and his clothing much more modest than the other merchants. He wore a simple gray robe belted tightly about his waist.
"I need four warriors," the merchant announced, "and the jobs pay two silver a day. These are jobs for the entire season. We will be making continuous runs between Koar and Tarent until the weather turns cold. Who wants the jobs?"
Again Gunnar watched from across the street as the fighting commenced. The third merchant announced a run from Anatar to Kyland and back, and Gunnar also sat that one out. The standard rate appeared to be two silvers a day and everyone fought for the jobs. No one seemed to care where the wagons went as long as they could secure a job.
The fourth and fifth merchants were also going to Tarent, and Gunnar began to feel as if he would not get a job after all. He would have to find something else to do while he waited for his beard to grow in.
"I need only one warrior," the sixth merchant announced. "The route is Koar to Caxon through Oran and then Kyland to Anatar. The job pays one silver a day. Who wants the job?"
Some of the job seekers booed the merchant and others laughed at his meager offer, but eight men crossed the street. Gunnar was one of them.
Gunnar's first opponent was a heavyset man, and he held the staff as if he was going to beat a rug. Gunnar had seen the man fight before, and his skill was not impressive, although his strength was. There was more than one job seeker watching that had a knot on the side of his head from opposing the big man. Gunnar did not intend to be another one of them.
The big man came out swinging, and Gunnar dodged the swing. He moved swiftly to pass behind the big man, shoving his staff into the man's back as he passed. The brute roared and turned around, his staff swinging with him. Gunnar ducked under the swing and immediately slammed his staff onto the man's hands. The big man's staff fell to the ground. Gunnar immediately raised his staff over his head and threatened to bring it do
wn the moment the big man bent over to pick up his staff. The big man stared coldly at Gunnar for a long time and spat in his direction before turning and walking away.
Gunnar's next opponent was a tall wiry man who seemed full of energy. The man's feet were always moving, even when he was standing still. Gunnar stood unmoving, allowing his opponent the opening move. The wiry man came dancing towards Gunnar, his eyes fixed on Gunnar's hands to see how he would try to defend. The prince remained unmoving, his eyes focused on the other man's feet. When he saw his opponent's feet brace for the swing, Gunnar dropped to a crouch and swung his staff hard in an arc parallel to the ground. A loud crack split the air as the staff connected with the wiry man's ankles. The thin man fell to the ground, screaming in agony. Gunnar rushed over to the man and knelt beside him.
"My ankle is broken," bellowed the thin man.
"I am sorry," Gunnar apologized. "I meant only to trip you up. Let me help you up. I will find you a healer."
"Leave him be," a gruff voice declared as the old merchant knelt next to Gunnar. "I will tend to him."
Gunnar watched as the old man's hands felt the ankle. The wiry man yelped twice as the merchant worked, but he said nothing else.
"Your ankle is not broken," declared the merchant, "but you should stay off of it for a day or two. Your opponent will carry you over to the inn so you may rest."
The merchant rose and indicated for Gunnar to pick up the man. Gunnar did so, and the merchant led them into the inn and haggled with the innkeeper over the price of a room. Gunnar followed the innkeeper up the stairs and deposited the man onto the bed and left. When he returned outside, his final opponent was waiting for him.
"There is no need for further fighting," announced the merchant. "I have chosen to hire this man," he said pointing to Gunnar.
"I haven't had the chance to fight him," shouted the remaining opponent, a sturdy man with a scarred face. "I demand my chance to beat him."
"The decision has been made," the merchant said, waving the sturdy man away.
The opponent stormed towards Gunnar and shoved a staff into his hands. He then picked up another from the ground.
"You had better hold off on your decision old man," snarled the sturdy man, "because pretty boy is going to be unable to ride with you."
As the merchant turned around, the prince's opponent charged Gunnar. Gunnar moved his feet apart and gripped his staff as the man raced towards him. The attacker shoved the end of the staff towards Gunnar's face, but the prince quickly moved his staff and shoved it aside. The sturdy man immediately whirled in a circle bringing the staff around in a powerful arc behind him. Gunnar did not wait for the man to complete his movement. He shoved his staff between the man's legs near the knees and allowed the man to tangle himself up. The opponent tumbled to the ground, and Gunnar's staff was ripped from his hand and cracked as the man fell onto it. Gunnar dove over the man in a roll and snared the man's staff from his hands. He came to his feet and placed the tip of the staff on the sturdy man's throat.
"At least you can say you won fair now," spat the man. "Who are you anyway?"
The merchant stood staring at Gunnar, as did all of the spectators in front of the tavern. Gunnar tossed the staff to the ground and marched over to the merchant.
"Can we leave now?" he asked.
The merchant stood staring at him for a few minutes without answering. Gunnar began to feel very exposed standing in the middle of the street. He had not planned to make a spectacle of himself.
"Your first day's wages went for the room at the inn," the merchant finally declared. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"None," Gunnar said quickly.
"Get your horse and tie it to my wagon," instructed the merchant. "I want you riding with me for now."
Gunnar nodded and went to retrieve his horse. He found Babul standing next to it.
"You have an interesting story to tell, Gunnar of the north," smiled Babul. "I want to hear it some day."
"Perhaps you will," Gunnar replied, "but that day is not today. Take care of yourself, Babul."
Gunnar tied his horse to the rear of the wagon and climbed onto the seat of the wagon next to the merchant. The merchant started his two-horse team moving and turned onto the Koar-Anatar Road heading east.
"My name is Kerzi," stated the merchant. "Who are you?"
"Gunnar," the prince answered. "Thank you for giving me this job. I really need it."
"Do you?" mused Kerzi. "I wonder. Who are you, Gunnar?"
"What do you mean?" asked the prince. "I am Gunnar, nothing more."
"Alright," sighed the merchant. "I guess I can't force you to tell me anything, but it is hard to trust someone who hides what they are running from."
"I am not running from anything," declared Gunnar.
"One thing I will not tolerate is someone lying to me," scowled Kerzi. "If you don't want to tell the truth then just keep your mouth shut."
They rode on in silence until the town of Goodland was behind them. The prince did not feel right lying, and he was glad that the merchant had allowed him not to answer questions that he chose not to, but he was curious about the impression that he was leaving behind in Goodland. He could not afford to have Borundan spies tracking him.
"What makes you think that I am running away from something?" he asked the merchant.
"Where do I start?" chuckled Kerzi. "Should it be the three day's growth on a face that has been shaved every day since puberty, or perhaps the dirt on your clothes, which has purposely been rubbed on? No, I think I should start with warrior skills that would have put you in contention for any job offered today, but you only competed in the one that paid the least amount of silver."
Gunnar was about to say that he had just been lucky, but he remembered the merchant's admonition to avoid lies so he kept his mouth shut.
"By my reckoning," the merchant continued, "you purposely avoided any wagon going towards Tarent, but you also passed up one going to Kyland. That confuses me."
"You talk more like a spy than a merchant," commented Gunnar.
"I am just observant," shrugged Kerzi. "I would not worry about anyone following your trail. Oh, you made an impression on the boys back in Goodland, but that will only last as long as the next ale. No one will remember your passing."
"Why did you chose me?" asked Gunnar. "The contest was not over yet."
"Personally," answered the merchant, "I loathe the very idea of the contest. A man should not have to fight to earn a decent job. All he should have to do is desire to work."
"I agree," stated the prince, "but that doesn't answer my question."
"You were a good enough fighter for my tastes," replied Kerzi. "As you can see, I am not a wealthy merchant, and the chances of being robbed are not so high for me. It was your desire to help the man who you defeated that made up my mind. There is too little compassion in this world, and I rather enjoy traveling with someone who knows the definition of the word."
"Well," smiled Gunnar, "I am truly grateful for the job. I will do my best to protect you and the wagon, and I will help out in any other way that I can."
"Then we will get along splendidly," smiled Kerzi. "Have you ever been to Koar? That is the first city on our route."
"A few times," answered Gunnar. "I have never spent much time there, just a night passing through several times."
"Well you will see a different side of it this trip," declared the merchant. "The market in Koar in quite large. It is one of the finest cities of the world, much larger in scope than our next stop, which will be Oran. Have you ever been there?"
"A few times," answered the prince.
"And Caxon?" smiled the merchant. "A few times?"
"Yes," the prince said defensively.
"My," grinned the merchant, "you have traveled a great deal. This is definitely going to be an interesting trip. Have you ever worked a merchant's wagon before?"
"No," sighed Gunnar. "Do you think we could talk about som
ething else?"
"You will learn to trust me, lad," smiled Kerzi. "I am not your enemy. I am just an old man who refuses to give up the life of a traveling merchant. It is all I have ever done since I was born. My parents were merchants, as were their parents. There is nothing finer than traveling the world and seeing the sights and watching the changes that take place over the years."
Gunnar was starting to take a liking to the old man, but he was not ready to risk his life with loose lips.
"What cargo are we picking up in Koar?" Gunnar asked.
"I am going to try to pick up a load of vegetables to take up to Oran," answered Kerzi. "The Odessians are always appreciative of fresh vegetables from the south. We will probably pick up grain in Oran and ferry that up to Caxon, where I hope to get a load of wine to take to Kyland."
"The wine is cheaper in Laborg," Gunnar commented, "and it is a better quality."
"True," nodded Kerzi, "but Laborg is a long trip. It is not worth the trip from Caxon down to Laborg and back just to pick up the wine cheaper, and one does not dare try the route through Natura. The horse people don't take kindly to foreigners going to Natura."
"It is not that they dislike foreigners," Gunnar replied. "There is little in the way of civilization between Natura and either Oran or Laborg, and most foreigners end up in trouble. At times the road is not visible when the winds blow and many people have gotten lost and died of starvation or thirst."
"Is that right?" chuckled Kerzi. "So you have been to Natura as well."
"I didn't say that," objected Gunnar.
"No, you didn't," agreed the merchant, "but you are not about to lie now and just tell me that is something you heard, are you?"
"Can we change the subject?" sighed Gunnar.
"Lad," the old man patted Gunnar's leg, "I do not want to make it so you are afraid to speak. I will refrain from trying to trap you in the future. Is that better?"
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