by A C Rae
“But that Wilkins man wore me down along with my wages. He’d complain that I was slow, or lazy, or that business was bad and he couldn’t afford to pay me. To my shame, I started playing card games again pretending to your father that I was seeking my fortune in Aelin, when in fact my periods of absence were due to visiting taverns.”
“And that’s how I met Abershaw. Seeing the desperation on my face when people started refusing to pay me my winnings, he took me to one side and explained how he was looking for a partner. At first I refused, just like you Quinn. But then one day, staring at my hand of paltry coins that had been given to me that morning by Wilkins, I snapped. I realised that there was a way for me to get back at that man and at others like him. Ferrying all those lords and ladies back and forth between Aelin had made me realise how rich and how easy they had it compared to the people who were struggling in the village. I handed my notice in there and then, telling your father that I had finally found a lucrative position in Aelin.”
“I started on my first hold up that night. If Abershaw wasn’t there I would’ve died that night. I had failed to mention that I had no knowledge of how to use a sword and pistol. He pulled me right out of the way of a bullet. Somehow, we still managed to take the gentleman’s money. And the first thing I did with it was visit your father to give him some money. I told him it was a present. He refused it until I reminded him that without him I would have been gambling still. The words almost stuck in my throat when I told him I was now a respectable businessman.”
“The shame and fear of being caught turned into a thrill over time as I saw how I could help others by giving them money. It sounds daft saying it out loud but the risk involved made me feel like I was earning it somehow, it still does. I even found a way to give your father money without him suspecting what I was up to. Through the help of a forger and a lawyer, I faked a will from a distant relative who had ‘bequeathed’ him a lump sum from his estate and your father accepted that.”
“However, afraid that he would find out how I was gaining my money, that he would get hurt if he tried to help me or was associated with me, and afraid that he would try to stop me, over the years I began seeing your father less and less. I began blaming the business in Aelin for not being able to see him. Soon the only way we spoke to each other was through letters until they became so infrequent that I never noticed when they stopped. I told myself it was for the best... I deeply regret that. I understand if you can never forgive me, never speak to me again.” Pryce leaned back in his chair against the wall, eyes weary.
He looked at Quinn, who had squeezed his eyes shut and was silent. Pryce looked at him intently.
His blue eyes opened suddenly, burning fervently. “I want in.” He said, simply and determinedly.
“What?” Pryce exclaimed.
“I want to be a highwayman too. Teach me. If you don’t, I know that Abershaw will.”
Abershaw held up his hands in protest. “I don’t want anything to do with this!”
Quinn turned his attention back to Pryce. “I think I get why you did it. I’m even grateful for what you did for me and father. You need to face the fact that whether I like it or not, I’m a fugitive now and cannot go back. I don’t belong. That’s why I need this.”
Pryce interrupted. “You can move to another part of Avarria. No-one will recognise you if you changed your clothes, your hair—”
Quinn shook his head violently. “This is the best way for me to make a difference to my life. I wasn’t exactly happy riding coaches all day either. I’d just got caught up in what I thought my father would want. It’s my turn now. I can do this.” He clenched his fists. “This is the only way that I will feel that I am not running away. I will be fighting head on, helping people. I can do this.”
Pryce still shook his head. “You can re-train. Be a carpenter, a builder, anything!”
“And what would I do with Bessie? I’m not leaving her behind- and I’m certainly not making her lug any more loads around, wood, bricks, or otherwise. I’m certain she would agree with my decision.” There was a snort of defiance from the open window. Bessie had walked up to the window and was listening in.
Pryce groaned. “I won’t do it.”
Quinn sat up in bed, wincing. He pulled the blanket off him and let it fall to the ground. “Right, then. Well, thank you for your help; I guess I should be off then.”
“Where are you going?” Pryce asked, puzzled. He moved to the bed to pin him down.
Quinn pushed his hands away. “I’m off to learn from someone the art of highway robbery. Even if I have to learn on the job.”
Pryce sighed. He stared into space for a few seconds, weighing up which was the worst decision and then exhaled sharply. “I'm not sure who the greatest idiot is. Yes, but only on a trial basis mind you. You have to obey any instruction I give you to the letter and if I have the slightest concern for your safety, I don’t care if I have to tie you to a bed to stop you going out. We can at least learn from my lesson- you will be training very hard before I even let you near a coach.”
Abershaw nodded in agreement, his arms crossed. He rubbed his hands together. “Well never mind Pryce, it’ll be easier to take down coaches with three men.”
Pryce snapped in reply and looked pointedly at Quinn. “At least one of those men, however, would seem to have taken leave of his senses. If not two, since I’m fool enough to agree to the whole thing.” He raised his eyebrow towards Quinn. “And I’m not certain that you had any sense in you to begin with!”
Quinn grinned anyway.
CHAPTER THREE
“Any visit to Aelin must include a visit to the Temple of the Ancestors. Residing in this temple is an ever burning flame, said to be a conduit to the Ancestors. It is forbidden for any but the King or a priestess of the high order to gaze upon it. Legend says that if the flame goes out Avarria is almost certainly doomed to fall.” Book III, A Guide to Avarria
The Guide to Avarria Jacob had lent Quinn was laid open, almost sliding off the bed. Dozing with the sun warming the blanket covering him, he felt more relaxed than he had felt in a long time, having spent the past three years working for Wilkins non-stop in one form or another. He could remember Wilkins making him work on Feast Day. Even Molly got some of that day off, and the tavern where she worked was definitely the village place to celebrate festivals.
He sighed. He hoped she was alright, although he was confident her life would start being easier once he found a way to give her money from his highwayman activities.
He smiled. It felt like he was on the cusp of finally starting to experience some excitement. He would be on the other side of the pistols in future and wouldn’t have to listen to gentlemen and ladies sitting in the back of the coach, moaning about the latest costs of the masquerade balls, or where to buy a new wig or hat. He sat up as Jacob walked in with a bowl of water and a cloth.
“Evening.” Jacob moved soundlessly to the side of the bed. “I need to check under the bandages. I should be able to remove them now.” Quinn sat up as Jacob peeled part of the bandages away. He looked closely at his chest. Satisfied, he unwound the bandages. “Right as rain. Healed up nicely.”
Quinn peered down at his chest. It was covered in brown gunk. He poked at it gingerly. “All the bruising has gone. You are amazing!” He grinned at Jacob.
“It wasn’t me; so much as the ingredients in the poultice I applied.” Jacob explained. “You’re welcome though.” He moved the bowl to a table that was next to the bed. Quinn saw that there was a folded flannel resting on one side of the bowl. “Ok then, I’ll leave you to clean up. I’ll bring you a towel in a minute.” He cleared his throat and left the room.
Quinn marvelled for a second at how quietly he moved. He placed the flannel into the pleasantly warm water and wiped the brown mess off his chest in amazement; there wasn’t a mark on him. Jacob’s healer talents were exceptional. Most remedies he’d heard of involved sitting in a pond under a full moon while wearing a
toad around the neck. Some of the healers evidently had a wicked sense of humour as well, since there were rumours that some insisted that the toad-wearer sing about cows jumping over moons whilst submerged in the pond.
Jacob came back in with a towel and a steaming mug. Quinn eyed him suspiciously. However, every drink so far had turned out well for him, so he decided whatever it was, he’d drink it anyway.
Jacob put the mug down on the table and passed Quinn the towel. “Hot mug of grogle, that is. Right expensive stuff.” His green eyes twinkled from his wise face cheerfully. Quinn observed that Jacob had an unnerving habit of looking both serious and merry at the same time.
Quinn looked at the mug as he wiped dry. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“That’s because it’s not going to be discovered for at least a hundred years. Not by normal folk anyway.”
Quinn decided not to ask where he had found it. Experience had taught him that it was a lot easier to drink something if you didn’t think too hard about what it was or where it had come from. Drinking in the tavern Molly worked in taught him a lot about that too. Thanking Jacob, he put the towel down and picked the mug up.
He took a sip. He couldn’t decide what it tasted like but settled on deciding it was delicious. He certainly didn’t have anything to compare it with, as far as he knew. If he had asked Jacob, Jacob would have mentioned how the taste reminded him of ansugre and something else but as that was undiscovered too, Quinn would’ve been none the wiser as to what that was either.
As he put the mug down, Quinn began to feel lethargic. He lay back against the soft springy bed. Just before he drifted fully asleep, he thought he heard Jacob mutter as he left the room, “Got the right dosage that time, should be awake in the morning.”
When Quinn woke, he found Pryce and Abershaw waiting in the doorway. Pryce looked at him. “At last! You’re awake. It’s nearly mid-morning. We’re setting off for our place in Aelin now as we’ve intruded on Jacob’s hospitality long enough.”
“Is it safe there?” Quinn asked, pulling on his shirt.
Abershaw answered. “Aelin’s the best place for highwaymen, at least the part we live in. No-one asks any questions there.”
After thanking Jacob, the three men walked out into the clearing in front of his house where their horses were tethered. To Quinn’s delight, Bessie was wearing a saddle.
“A loan from Jacob.” Pryce explained, pulling himself onto his horse. “I’ll give it back when we’ve got you another one.”
Quinn smiled. Bessie was pleased to see him, and nibbled his arm affectionately.
The ride to Aelin was short and Quinn soon found himself staring at the main City gate nervously. Usually, getting into the City was just a formality for him as he rode the coaches back and forth. But for the first time he was painfully aware that there were manned towers along the wall which towered several feet above them.
“Never mind those,” Pryce remarked. “They’re just for show in the daytime. I know full well that the Watch likes to play dice this time of the day. It’s at night when they’re dangerous. They get so drunk they’ll shoot at anything just in case. Not that the King minds, I hear he believes it’s better to have all wandering people shot rather than no-one when it comes to the City security. He’s probably partly right, though I’d argue that they usually only catch the stupid crooks that way. All the smart ones are already inside the City when they do their business and it’s certainly not in full view of the streets the Watch patrol either.”
They passed calmly through the gate. “Follow me then Quinn.” Abershaw turned his horse to the left and disappeared down a side street, Pryce close behind. Bessie followed him without needing Quinn’s direction.
They went deep into the City, the road pitching steeply upwards at points. There was a reason Aelin was also called the City of Rolling Hills. As Bessie followed Pryce and Abershaw, Quinn had the opportunity to look around. He had only stuck to the main routes before; the coaches were really too wide for the larger streets as well. Yet as it was fashionable to ride in a coach, everyone ignored the impracticalities and simply got down to the business of being fashionable.
The main street houses had been made of stone and were in a straight line. Quinn was surprised to see that as they moved further back from the main roads, a lot of the buildings looked like the ones in his village and were made of wood. As they went on, the houses became increasingly cramped together in no particular pattern.
After a few minutes it soon became evident to Quinn that they were entering a poorer district. Not because the houses looked more run down, although many of them were, but because of the smell. Quinn had originally thought that Aelin didn’t smell half as bad as some people had made out and was now rapidly being forced to reconsider that opinion. He pinched his nose but the smell managed to invade his nostrils anyway. Giving up, his face settled into a pained expression.
Pryce, who had turned around, laughed. “You get used to the smell. It’s a million times better inside our house though. I do go elsewhere in Aelin for a drink. The others round here on the outskirts of this district are cleaner than the one in your village but there are ones in this area that make yours look almost sanitary.”
A man was thrown out of the tavern they were passing, landing in front of their horses on his rear. The landlord bellowed at him. “Think it’s alright to empty your bladder against the wall in my tavern do you!”
Pryce whispered to Quinn, “It probably made that part of the wall look cleaner than the rest. He’ll have to clean it now or people will point out the difference.”
Quinn barely managed to suppress a laugh. “Are we nearly there?” Pryce nodded in reply.
After turning a corner, Abershaw stopped and dismounted, Pryce and Quinn doing the same.
Abershaw waved at the house with a flourish. “Welcome home!” He announced.
Quinn was pleased to see that his new accommodation was made of wood with a thatched roof; even if a closer inspection revealed a few cracks in the bricks and that the roof needed replacing.
“Can’t live in a place too tidy, people would ask questions.” Abershaw explained, rubbing his hands together. “The horses go in a stable a few minutes up the road. We’ll take them there and then I’ll show you inside our humble abode.” He winked.
Quinn was worried that the stables would be a shabby, downtrodden mess but was surprised to find that although they looked fairly rundown, they were impeccably clean. Bessie was satisfied, especially when the stable boy fed her a carrot.
On the way back to the house, Quinn questioned Pryce. “So when do I start my highwayman training?”
“Steady on, Quinn. There is something else I have to train you in first.”
Quinn looked at him quizzically. “What’s that?”
“How to survive in Aelin.” He replied cryptically as they walked into the house.
The house was much better on the inside than the front, and Quinn was relieved to find that it did in fact smell better inside, though that probably had something to do with the incense burning away in the corner of every room.
Luckily for Quinn they had a spare room, complete with a bed and a cupboard. His new room had a rather unspectacular view of another street with houses crowded very close behind it, and smelled a little bit too much of Aelin, but Quinn decided that it was still better than the small room he had occupied in the village. The memory of the village was tainted with the remembrance of late events anyway. He frowned and then straightened his shoulders. He was in Aelin now, not there. And, even better, there was no Wilkins here to give him lots of work in return for paltry wages.
He walked down to the ground floor. Pryce was drinking a pint of ale and Abershaw was sat smoking his pipe. The smell of tobacco was stronger inside the confines of the house. Quinn resisted the urge to wave the smoke aside, fearing it would be rude. He found it hard to believe that Abershaw’s smoking was healthy, no matter what popular opinion stated.
Pr
yce looked up. “Ah ha. Quinn. I’ve just set up a deck. We are going to play cards and then dice. You might find it will come in handy if we hit on a rough patch and you’ll be looked on suspiciously in this area if you don’t indulge in some gambling every now and then. Certainly there are fewer coaches to rob at certain times of the year and we can’t rob every coach successfully. If that was possible we would have retired already!”
“For example, the Feast Day is one of those times. For two weeks the streets are so crowded you can’t get into Aelin. The rich people don’t tend to bother coming up here and stay in their walled section of the city to the East for at least a month. Though I expect you know that already, since Wilkins probably used those weeks to get you to spring-clean his house. I know he used to make me do that anyway.” At Quinn’s nod of confirmation, Pryce beckoned for him to sit down and continued.
“Now, at first look the rules are simple. I expect you to pick up the rules of Three Knights and Knaves, the most popular card game in Aelin, pretty quickly. I shuffle the cards and deal out nine cards each. I then spread these six cards out face down on the table, and place the rest in a pile…”
Several hours later, Quinn’s head started to droop down onto the table. Pryce might have considered the rules to be fairly simple but judging by how worn his deck of cards were, he had certainly played hundreds of times. Quinn found the rules of dice much easier, although Pryce had argued that it was easier to win with cards. The dice relied on luck, yet you could win a game of cards with a certain level of skill. After cracking a huge yawn and being excused by Pryce, Quinn crawled upstairs to go to sleep, taking off his jacket and breeches and crawling into bed.
Quinn awoke in the middle of the night to a faint rustling noise outside. He pulled the blankets closer. It felt cold, and he could feel a breeze coming in through the open window.
He was certain that he’d closed it and was wondering if he was still asleep. He was further convinced he was dreaming, when he saw his breeches lift from the chair by the window where he had left them. They rose gracefully into the air, started twitching and jumping towards the window, and then disappeared straight out of it. Quinn pinched himself. He was awake. So what was it? Magic? In this district?