by Jim Galford
Dalania smiled back at the man. “Or that Jnodin still resists Turessi from within and that they are using your house as a relay for information to the resistance. Apparently the whore houses and several other groups are working together in this.”
That snapped Raeln awake immediately. “Resistance?”
“Yes,” Dalania said, with most of the humans smiling wickedly. “Officially, the city has been taken by Turessi without a fight. This treaty was made without any consultation of the people. As a result, a large portion of the population is waiting for the right time to fight back. They even allowed in a Turessian so that they could study him before engaging him in battle.”
Raeln studied the faces of the men and women and saw a hardened resolve, similar to that on the faces of slaves he had met near Lantonne. They were not warriors, but they were willing to risk themselves in whatever way they could find to help further the causes of those who would be warriors. He was willing to bet they would fight in their own ways from the shadows when the time was right.
“Do you know where Yoska went?” Raeln asked, but Dalania shook her head.
“I do,” the man beside Raeln told him, putting his hand back on Raeln’s knee. “I can show you what you need.”
“Just show me where Yoska is,” snapped Raeln, a little more harshly than intended. Apparently his words did not insult anyone, as the man and most of the other humans laughed.
Getting up, the man who had spoken motioned for Raeln to follow. “You can’t blame me for trying,” he told Raeln, waiting for him to stand as well. “Old habits die hard. Besides, we don’t exactly get wildlings around these parts. I haven’t even seen one since I was a child far west of here. There’s something about exotic people…”
One of the woman added, “He’s leaving out that we placed a wager on who might be able to draw your interest. So far, I’m winning my bet.”
“However, I do know where your friend is,” the man beside Raeln noted, giving the woman a somewhat catty and annoyed glare. “Follow me. They’re outside and down the street a little. Not far, I promise.”
Raeln looked down at Dalania, surrounded by the group of men and women. “Will you be all right here? I want to be sure Yoska’s not selling us to the highest bidder.”
“I’ll be fine, Raeln,” she said, smiling. She did appear more comfortable than he had seen her since she had stopped hiding in plain sight as the fox. “Go and check on him. Hurry back, though.”
Following the human man out of the inn and onto the dark streets, Raeln was surprised by the number of different scents that were still strong so late into the night. Many cities tended to become as mild as they were quiet once the sun set, but Jnodin smelled more active than most. He could smell the stables, but he also picked up a lot of humans having passed by recently…and dogs, though that scent was partially concealed by incense. It was somewhat bewildering, but he guessed one of the neighboring homes had something burning that was throwing off his nose.
“Down here,” the man told him, walking toward the stable. “They only arrived here about half an hour ago, so they should still be arguing, if I know anything about their people. They may not have even moved past insulting one another. I believe they have to insult every one of their ancestors before they can begin haggling.”
Sure enough, as they passed the stables, Raeln could hear two men bickering. The human led him to the far side, where a wide shadowed area for storing supplies between the inn and the city walls had been occupied by their wagon. Standing behind it was Yoska, having changed back into his blue silks with brown trim—despite the hole in the side where he had been wounded long ago—and another man, dressed in maroon silk with grey accents. The two were arguing, but in soft voices that did not carry far.
“Is a fine wagon!” Yoska was saying, gesturing broadly at the wagon. “You have no finer among yours, no?”
“Is stolen!” the other man snapped back, pointing at a dried bloodstain near the door from their battle with the undead patrol. “You wish to sell me stolen goods so that I am target of law, yes?”
“Stolen does not make it any less of a fine wagon.”
“It makes it worth less.”
“It makes it worth more, as it has character, yes?”
“Burns are not character, Yoska.”
“You have scars you claim give you character. How are burns different?”
“Wagon is not built for winter. Will be very cold this far north.”
“Why do you think I sell? We are going north and need something better-suited. You already say you head south. Is much better for you.”
“You still owe me for getting me arrested in Thindor, Yoska. You should give me the wagon, no?”
“Is not my fault you cheat badly at cards. Besides, I made it up by finding a husband for that cow of girl you call niece. Boy I find was great choice and save her from cross-eyed cousin from Erasha.”
“That—” The man in maroon stopped and thought a moment, going from anger to mild annoyance. “—is true. I raise my offer to thirty.”
“Thirty-two and no lower.”
Making a show of appearing wounded, the man begrudgingly took Yoska’s hand. As soon as he did, Yoska added, “And warm clothing for our journey for myself and my companions.”
“You will get thirty and clothes,” the man conceded. “Do not push luck, cousin. That price will get you small wagon that is built for the winter and a few horses.”
“I have pushed all I wish,” Yoska replied, grinning.
The two men seemed to finally notice Raeln and the man with him. The maroon-silked gypsy eyed the human beside Raeln and then turned his attention to Raeln. “Big one is your companion, yes? He keeps small toys for such big man. My cousin would say he is likely to break small toys.”
The human at Raeln’s side grinned and stifled laughter, while Raeln clenched his fists, glad that his kind could not blush the way humans did.
“Yes, big one is companion,” Yoska agreed, leaning on the wagon. “Little one…I do not know where he found that. We do not keep that one. I throw him back.”
The other gypsy replied, “I see you have pretty fae-kin with you. I could not help but see who you travel with when I hear you wish to barter. Is almost like old days, no? Traveling world with exotic people to see things that our clans have forgotten. She is with you in very familiar way?”
Yoska reacted swiftly, punching the other man in the throat just hard enough that he coughed and gagged. “No, is not like old days,” said Yoska as he lowered his hand, looking older than Raeln had ever seen him. He appeared genuinely tired, and the laughter lines on his face deepened, truly showing his age. “In old days we travel because we could. Now, we travel to stay alive, while our families die. All of my companions are to be treated as family. I am sorry about throat, but you know better than to speak of people like this, cousin.”
Patting Yoska’s shoulder as he straightened, the other man told him in a somewhat hoarse voice, “Not all the clans are so scattered. There is hope for many. Do not trouble yourself so, cousin. I will see to it that your clothing is delivered within the hour, on my honor. I apologize for speaking so of the woman. Will not happen again.” Excusing himself, the maroon-clad gypsy placed a jingling bag of coin into Yoska’s hand and hurried off onto the streets.
“Leave us,” Raeln told the man from the inn, who bowed his head and went back toward the inn. Once he was out of sight, Raeln walked over to stand beside Yoska, leaning on the wagon.
“Is getting harder to do this,” Yoska said, shaking his head sadly. “My cousin, Gunari, he brings news that his clan is nearly as decimated as my own. They were on the road when Turessian army swept south. Many dead. The rest, they fled. There is talk that some of the oldest families may soon join Turessi in hope of keeping our people alive through ill-advised bargain.”
Raeln looked around the dark walled area uncomfortably, unsure what to say. As he did, he thought he saw movement out near the stre
et. He could not spot it again when he searched, but he swore he saw robes. After so long running from Turessians, he guessed it was becoming habit to see them at every turn. Again, that hint of incense and fur.
“Is there anything I can do?” Raeln asked, once he was sure there were no Turessians about to attack them from the shadows.
“No,” replied Yoska, picking at the hole in his shirt. “You already do it by coming along and tempering my moods. Is a rough life being alone, yes? Almost enough to drive a man to drink. Oh wait…is definitely enough. I am going back inside. I have good drink in there. You are welcome to join. You have as much excuse as I do.”
“I never drink,” Raeln admitted, following Yoska as he made his way to the inn door. “It clouds the head and slows reactions.”
“You need to get better at drinking if that is the case,” Yoska noted, chuckling. “My reactions are plenty quick, though clouded thinking has led to many good days in my memories.”
“I’ll pass.”
Raeln stopped at the door of the inn, hesitating as he felt eyes on his back. Turning, he scanned the street and saw several robed figures slip into the shadows. He waited there for as long as he felt comfortable doing so before finally going back inside and closing the door. Turessians never ran and never seemed willing to hide, but the idea that they were being watched was still disturbing.
He would be happy to be out of the city again. At least outside he could see the enemy coming. Even if they were heading into the heart of danger, he wanted to see it well in advance so he could face it head on.
*
Having been unable to sleep further after seeing the robed people outside, Raeln sat in the front room of the inn well past dawn, meditating as he faced the door. At his side the human man that had been so adamant in trying to draw his attention lay sleeping with his head propped against Raeln’s thigh, something Raeln had given up on objecting to. Dalania had been right: hiding behind fear and feigned disgust was pointless, even if he had no interest. If this man could be open about who he was, Raeln certainly could, too.
The inn had been quiet for hours, its business obviously suited more toward later in the day, leaving the mornings for sleep. Raeln wanted to wake the others, to get them moving, but he knew his own nervousness should not be pushed onto them as well. Without a solid reason to think they were in any more danger than usual, he would wait for them to wake in their own time. Hurrying them along would only leave them all waiting for Estin exhausted, which did nothing to help them if they were attacked.
So, with nothing better to do and his anxieties about threats keeping him awake, he had struggled with his meditation. He was partially successful, managing to relax his body if not his mind. In that state he was acutely aware of every sound, both inside and outside the building, so when On’esquin got up and came to the main room, Raeln heard him coming long before the orc spoke.
“Did the gypsy complete his work last night?” On’esquin asked, sitting down in one of the room’s chairs. The padded seat creaked under his weight but held him.
“He did,” replied Raeln, without opening his eyes. “We are to pick up new horses on our way out of town. A fresh wagon waits with the horses. Yoska’s friend dropped off winter clothing for us outside the door. I heard him sneak up about an hour ago.”
On’esquin grunted in acknowledgement, and Raeln heard him tightening the straps on his armor. Soon, the orc said, “I have seen no indication of the Turessians here. I think that bothers me more than the places where they made their control more obvious.”
“They are definitely in charge. Dalania tracked down the local resistance. It seems the Turessian who rules this city has attempted to do so through politics rather than force. It’s a change from their usual tactics.”
“Not at all, Raeln. This fits Dorralt’s usual pattern. He sends his more radical generals to the regions least likely to bow. In the last war, he gave control over a region to whichever general conquered it. They were to rule it however they saw fit. Given that war against this city would have taken years, he was probably wise in choosing to conquer it with words rather than swords. The greater fear is that in time, another Turessian will seek to take it from this one and any deals these people made to survive may be unwritten.”
They remained quiet a while, until On’esquin lowered his voice and asked, “How extensive was your training, Raeln? I have seen you fight, and it reminds me of a particular form of education that was used in my time. Where we are going, I need to be sure you are ready.”
“I trained under every swordsman, archer, spearfighter, and brawler that my father could find to teach me,” Raeln said, still keeping his eyes closed. “They focused on teaching me to fight with a wizard, given my sister’s intention of becoming one.”
“Did they teach you to fight one?”
“Yes. That’s about the only reason I survived the fight with that Turessian back in Pholithia. Stay ahead of them, disrupting arm movements whenever possible. Aim for the throat if given a chance.”
“Raeln, I have seen the Turessians miss you with spells at close range twice.”
“I’m fast, On’esquin.”
“No one is that fast,” warned the orc. “They had you. You may not understand magic, but I do. Shy of miscasting a spell, it is nearly impossible to miss. Some people seem more resilient to magic than others, but you avoided the spells entirely. Who taught you that?”
Raeln opened his eyes and thought over the fights in the last few months, trying to remember which battles On’esquin might be referring to. “The only times I can think of, I just got out of the way. A last-moment dive for the ground can—”
“Can do nothing against magic. Magic follows people around corners and hits targets leagues away. The one who taught you to meditate…did this teacher also educate you in combat?”
“He did,” admitted Raeln, not really understanding where this was going. “He taught me to avoid attacks with my mind before my body. Know where your body will be and know for certain that it will not be hit. If you do not believe, you will keep getting hit. He was drunker than Yoska most days, so it’s probably nonsense. Half of his lessons turned into religious rants about dragons.”
Chuckling, On’esquin leaned back in his chair. “Trust that teacher more than the rest. You have talent, Raeln. You and I together could likely face down the best the Turessians can throw at us, if you learn to have more faith in yourself.”
The clomping of an uneven stride made Raeln look back down the hall, where he saw Yoska stumbling toward them, rubbing his temples. Behind him, Dalania trailed after, keeping her distance while following him into the main room. From the look of her, Dalania was barely conscious.
“Fresh horses are waiting at north stable,” Yoska mumbled, sitting down hard enough on the nearest chair that the human beside Raeln woke with a start. The man sleepily got up and wandered off to one of the side rooms. “Assuming our clothes are waiting outside, we can leave whenever everyone is ready. Wagon will take half hour to prep, once we have horses.”
“He dropped them off an hour ago,” Raeln told Yoska, getting a half-hearted nod in reply.
“Do we have everything, then?” asked On’esquin, looking around at them all as he placed his spear across his lap.
With his eyes still shut and one hand covering his face, Yoska twirled a knife from his belt into the air, caught it, and then slid it smoothly back into his sheath. It was his typical way of saying he was ready, even if he was severely hungover.
“Then there is no reason to delay,” On’esquin said, standing up. “Given that our guide is nearly dead from drinking, I can lead the way for now. This city might have been in its infancy the last time I was here, but I can certainly find the northern gate without a guide.”
“Is good plan,” murmured Yoska, his hand still covering his eyes. “Tell me when drums stop, so I can die in peace.”
Raeln rolled onto his feet and Dalania came over, bleary-eyed but more co
herent-looking than Yoska. With everyone else standing, Yoska slowly stood and stumbled after them as Raeln headed for the door.
When he opened the door onto the street just enough to peek out, Raeln was struck by how many people there were, now that the sun was up. The whole city seemed to move, looking as alive and vibrant as Lantonne had been before the war. To think this was likely the first city conquered by Turessi and it appeared so intact and healthy, Raeln could have forgotten the war had even happened, were it not for the memories that kept him from sleeping most nights.
Raeln suddenly noticed there were some people out on the street who were not moving. They stood at the edges of the buildings, watching him even through the barely-open door, as though they had known he would be there. They were all robed and hooded, though their outfits were brown rather than the sleek black robes the Turessians preferred.
“I’ve been seen,” Raeln announced, stepping back into the inn, where he knew he would be out of sight. “I count five robed people, all who knew we were coming.”
Any discomfort Yoska was feeling disappeared instantly. He hopped up alongside the other edge of the door and peeked outside. Reaching out, he grabbed the lip of a large barrel there, dragging it inside as quickly as he could.
“Gunari is not sneakiest man I have ever known,” Yoska said once the barrel was inside. He pushed it toward On’esquin. “Was probably seen dropping that off. We will need to hurry to stable if we are to get out of city with them looking for us.”
On’esquin quickly tore open the barrel and pulled piles of woolen clothing from it, throwing them over his shoulder or into his pack. Raeln saw garments of many different sizes, mostly in black, though a shirt and a few other items were white.
Once he had everything out, Yoska returned his attention to the street. “Fuzzy and green stay along building, where shadows will hide you. Pretty lady and I will walk on street and draw attention, because who cannot look at two lovely people, no? Make way to north gate, I get horses, and we go. Wagon may have to stay behind. Any questions?”