Farrell twisted his lips into a smile and stared down his nose. “I sense you have an idea you feel will work better.”
“I do.” Wilhelm returned the smile with a slight nod. “Allow me to hire you.”
“Hire us?” That was not what he expected to hear. “We aren’t really turning into mercs, you know.”
Wilhelm chuckled but kept it low. “I understand, but hear me out. For months I have been searching for the right opportunity to send Peter off to sea, but I’ve feared for his safety. Meglar has been busy on the west coast. In addition to the overtures he’s made to the other city-states seeking an ally, he’s been funding pirate attacks on merchant vessels from every nation. I can’t send Peter on his first overseas voyage without the right protection.”
“Why send him at all?” He realized the moment he spoke he shouldn’t have questioned his friend. “Sorry, it isn’t my position to inquire.”
The older man waved his hand absently. “If you’re going to accept my offer, you have a right to ask any question you feel important. Peter should have gone before his sixteenth birthday, but with his mother’s death, I didn’t know if the time was right. My people will never accept him as heir if he hasn’t had at least one long ocean voyage under his belt.”
“Won’t?” Somehow Farrell doubted anyone in Belsport disagreed with Wilhelm for long.
“Politics being what it is, there are plenty of pretenders among my more distant relations. Given his attraction to men and the issues producing an heir it will create, it would be one more reason not to support him as prince. He needs to put this behind him. These are dangerous times we live in. If something happens to me, Peter needs to be able to step into my place with as few distractions as possible. Your request presented me with an ideal solution—hire you and Miceral to guard my son. It will give your aliases instant credibility, and I’ll know he’s as safe as I can make him.”
Farrell took a long pull from his steaming mug. The suggestion had merit. “I like the idea, but I have a condition.”
Did he detect a hint of amusement in Wilhelm’s eyes? “I’m listening.”
“When we arrive at Dumbarten, I want to send Peter back by way of a Door.”
Wilhelm took a nibble on a chocolate cookie. “That’s not a problem, but may I ask why you can’t sail back with him?”
“We don’t know how long we’ll be in Dumbarten, and it could be too dangerous for us to ensure his safety.”
“Too dangerous?” He cocked his head, eyes squinting just a bit. “Even Meglar wouldn’t dare attack Dumbarten, not when he’s still warring with the remaining nations of Ardus.”
Draining his cup, Farrell rose, nodding toward the table with the coffee. “You know as well as any that just because Meglar hasn’t declared his intentions, that doesn’t mean he won’t send his wizards to attack specific targets. Dumbarten would almost surely attack Zargon if Meglar created an incident.”
“A valid point.” Wilhelm poured himself a glass of red wine and took a sip. “If I agree to your condition, do we have a deal?”
Farrell laughed. “You make it sound like a sale of timber or a bolt of cloth.”
“Or a unique shield?” He peered over his cup.
“That too. If Miceral agrees, we have a deal.”
“Excellent!” Wilhelm clapped Farrell on the back. “This will ease my fears greatly. And Peter will be so thrilled to travel with you both that he might not even complain about ‘his duty as a prince to go to sea.’”
Farrell nodded. “Let me speak to Miceral, and we can discuss the details in a day or two. Right now I need to find my life partner and embarrass him by telling everyone how happy he’s made me this last year.”
“Newlyjoineds.” Wilhelm smiled and motioned for Farrell to lead the way.
Chapter 7
“BRING IN those two.” Master Darius motioned toward Miceral and Farrell, who stood quietly in the small anteroom. “The prince will see them now.”
Four guards snapped to attention and the sergeant nodded crisply. “Yes, Master Darius.”
Farrell avoided looking at his partner, instead focusing his attention on the throne at the end of the long aisle. Peter sat next to Wilhelm on a slightly lower throne. Barely looking at the pair, Wilhelm handed a document to Darius when he arrived. The wizard turned and handed it to Miceral.
“If you look over that document, you will find everything is as we discussed,” Wilhelm said.
Leaning closer, Farrell pretended to read the note. He already knew what it contained, but he tried to stay in character. With the alterations he’d made to his appearance the last few days, few if any in Belsport would recognize him.
“Everything appears in order, Your Highness.” Miceral bowed respectfully. “Prince Peter will be well protected during his trip.”
“Good.” Wilhelm waved absently and turned to speak to his ministers.
Accepting their dismissal, Farrell turned and left without looking back. At the front gate, they retrieved their weapons under the watchful eyes of the palace guards. They took a ferry south toward the more commercial areas of Belsport and retrieved their horses when they reached the mainland.
“Which way to the Sword and Shield Inn?” Miceral asked the ferryman.
Barely acknowledging them, the man pointed south. “Two streets and make a right. It’s a few blocks down on the left.”
Farrell handed him a coin to pay for their ride and nudged his mount forward. Wilhelm had booked their room at the inn, telling them it catered to well-paid soldiers, not common thugs. Run by two brothers who’d been mercenaries themselves, the inn had clean rooms, decent food, and reasonable rates. Not that Farrell cared about the rates since Wilhelm paid the bill, but the room needed to be clean.
Located on a busy commercial street, the inn occupied the left side of the block. Several competent-looking swordsmen stood at various places, ensuring no one thought to relieve the inn of a few highly prized horses. Darius told them the “guards” were mercenaries working to earn their keep, a practice not uncommon for those between jobs.
The big U-shaped inn bordered the street. A simple sign with the inn’s name adorned an iron post at the head of a semicircular gravel path. Near the entrance, two unarmed, bored-looking lads sat among a quartet of alert guards.
“Four guards?” Farrell asked Miceral. “Have things gotten that dangerous since we were last here?”
“No, I doubt that. These are mercenaries between work. They’d be working mercs if things were that bad.”
They dismounted before the entrance, and Miceral pulled the letter Wilhelm had given them for the innkeeper from his saddlebag. Farrell fished out a silver coin and handed it and the reins to the boy closest to him.
“There’s double that if you take good care of them.”
The teen took the coin and smiled. “They’ll be well cared for, sir, but I can’t board your horses ’til Dad says so.”
He winked at the boy and silently made for the door.
Light filled the common room through numerous open windows. Although he felt certain Wilhelm had weeded out most of Meglar’s agents, he searched their surrounding just in case. Three long tables with low wooden benches on either side ran the length of the large room. Numerous small tables lined the far wall, affording small groups a modicum of privacy. To the right, the fireplace sat unused on the warm spring day. A staircase dominated the far wall, bisecting it almost in half.
Three loud and boisterous guests, who appeared to have consumed a decent amount of ale, sat at the end of a long table. Passing over them, Farrell quickly scanned the two who sat at a small table in the corner, speaking in low voices. Finally, his gaze noticed a lone warrior at a table close to the staircase. The man stretched his legs and seemed to watch them as they entered, letting out occasional puffs of smoke.
A lifetime of keeping secrets kicked in, and he decided this man bore watching. Before he could alert Miceral to his concerns, a middle-aged man dressed i
n the nondescript clothing mercenaries favored walked out of a small room immediately to their left.
“Good day, gents. What brings you to the Sword and Shield?” His eyes ran up and down both of them. A large gray wolfhound to Farrell’s left stirred after the innkeeper spoke. Standing closest to the dog, Farrell reached out a hand to say hello.
“I wouldn’t do that, sir!” The man’s urgent warning nearly caused Farrell to jump. “He doesn’t take to folks the first time he meets them.”
When the dog stood, his shoulders came up to Farrell’s hips. The shaggy hair that covered the animal made his true size hard to determine, but Farrell guessed the hound weighed well over a hundred pounds. Farrell ignored the man’s warning, leaned his staff against the wall, and squatted down to be eye level with the hound.
“Really, sir, you best not get down like that. He will bite you!”
“No, he won’t.” Farrell projected calm as he grabbed the dog behind both ears and scratched gently. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”
A broad tongue licked Farrell’s face, causing Miceral to snort.
“Well, don’t that upside down everything.” The man rubbed his chin. “How’d you know Thorn wouldn’t bite you? Neblor’s gates, I don’t know that he wouldn’t bite me if I got down like that, and I raised him from a pup.”
Farrell continued to scratch the contented hound. “I have a way with animals.”
“Being the chosen of Lenore and Nerti’s rider also helps,” Miceral said.
Farrell kept his attention on Thorn to avoid giving away that he’d heard Miceral.
“We were referred to your establishment by our employer,” Miceral said, drawing the man’s attention to him. He held up Wilhelm’s letter. “I’m Elgin, and that is Kelvin. I believe our lodging has been paid for in advance.”
The proprietor accepted the document, glancing occasionally at Farrell happily playing with Thorn. When Farrell stood up, Thorn batted him with a big meaty paw, prompting Farrell to reach down and scratch his head some more.
Scanning the document, the man looked up once, then reread the paper. “My apologies. I’ve been expecting you, but I expected someone a bit older and fiercer-looking.”
Looking past them, the innkeeper nodded to the boy standing in the doorway. The lad winked at Farrell, leaped down the stairs, and led their horses around the building.
Farrell knew most men who lived by selling their sword would take offense at the comment, but since they had already been “hired” and the man meant no harm, he let it go.
Perhaps the lack of response made the innkeeper realize his mistake, because he quickly held up both hands in front of himself. “Not that you have to impress me. Thorn seems to approve of you. That, and your employer is known to me and paid good currency for your accommodations.”
He walked into the office and returned with a key. “First meal tomorrow is included in the price. All others come from your purse. Food is available from breakfast ’til midnight or until we run out, whichever comes first.”
Walking with a slight limp, the man led them toward the staircase. “Top floor, left side, last room at the end of the hall.” He handed Miceral the key but kept his gaze on Farrell. “Still wish I knew how you did that with Thorn. He never took to anyone like that before.”
“Strange things happen when you deal with wizards, Vernack,” the warrior smoking his pipe said, rising to his feet.
Farrell tried not to stare at the man, especially now that his suspicions seemed confirmed. Better not to acknowledge the remark and pretend he’d ignored it entirely.
“This really ain’t any of your business, now is it, Leo?” Vernack snapped, glaring at his guest.
“Nope, sure isn’t. I was just pointing out the obvious.” He stretched his tall, lanky frame and resumed his seat, puffing away at his long-stemmed pipe.
Vernack shook his head and turned back toward Miceral and Farrell. “Top of the stairs, last room on the left. Number eight.”
Key in hand, they ascended the switchback stairs toward the fourth floor. Farrell stopped at the landing on the third floor. “Keep going, Ral. Someone is following quietly behind us. I’m going to see who it is.”
“Be careful and let me know what’s happening.”
“Of course. I’ll need you to help me question Leo when I catch him in the act.”
“Leo? How do you know who it is?”
Farrell moved a few steps into the third-floor hallway and engaged a spell. He magically added the sound of a second set of boots as Miceral continued up the stairs. “Call it a hunch.”
Moments later, Leo appeared, barely making a sound. Farrell silenced his real footsteps, then fell in behind the man. “It’s Leo. Head to the room, but be ready to come out when I say to.”
“Are you sure you’ll be safe?”
Leo paused and appeared to listen. He gave no indication he sensed Farrell’s presence. Instead, he looked right and then left, glancing directly at Farrell before he walked up the last flight.
“Positive. The man’s not a wizard.” Farrell heard a door open and shut before he crept up to the fourth-floor landing. Leo stood a few feet ahead of him, peering down the hall at room eight. “He’s standing in the hallway, looking at our door. Let me get behind him, then come out when I tell you.”
“Agreed. Just be careful.”
Leo inched closer to their door, seeming to listen intently. Farrell stepped into the hallway, closing the distance between him and their stalker.
“I’m ready.”
He heard Miceral stomp to the door and turn the knob. As he expected, Leo quickly turned and made for the stairs. Farrell released his spell and created a shield around himself that touched both sides of the hall. With a startled look, Leo reached for his weapon.
“Any reason you’re spying on us?” Farrell tapped his staff on the floor, and a pale blue nimbus erupted from the tip and outlined his shield.
“Who’s spying on whom, Master Kelvin? Any reason you silently made your way behind me with your shield raised?”
“I’m asking the questions.” He let the blue light pulse a bit brighter. “You can willingly answer them, or I can make you.”
Leo stared at him, but Farrell didn’t flinch.
“It wasn’t wise to follow after us like that, sir.” Miceral stood behind the man, sword in his left hand. “Silently walking up the stairs, listening and looking about as you went, made plain your intentions.”
Farrell noted a hint of fear as the man tensed. “A Muchari and a wizard are a conspicuous couple. One might wonder if you are really Elgin and Kelvin and not some other famous friends of the prince.”
While not prepared for Leo to have made the connection, Farrell kept his stoic expression. “One might wonder if we were Khron and Falcron, but it doesn’t answer my question. This is the last time I will ask you to explain yourself.”
Leo stared hard at him, as if trying to judge his resolve. When his shoulders drooped just a bit, Farrell knew he understood the situation. Leo turned to face Miceral. “One does not forget the face of the greatest warrior our race has produced. Especially not when you were present to see him best someone as renowned as Master Baylec.”
“Great balls of Neldin.” Miceral slid his sword back into its sheath. “Leothan. It’s been almost fifty years since I’ve seen you.”
“I’ve been traveling for a bit.” Although he visibly relaxed more, he kept stealing glances at Farrell, who maintained his shield.
Miceral held out his arm, and the two clasped forearms. Using a hand to turn Leo, Miceral approached Farrell. “Kelvin, this is Leothan. He and I used to spar together under Baylec’s watchful eye. Though it was many years ago.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Kelvin.” Leo bowed politely when Farrell didn’t extend his arm. “Perhaps it would be better if we didn’t speak in the hall?”
Miceral nodded and led Leo into the room. Following a few steps behind, Farrell remained wary. Despite his p
artner’s acknowledgment, he didn’t release his spell.
Their room had windows on two sides, making it well lit for such a small space. The large bed and small table with two chairs took up most of the floor. Other than a few wall sconces, a mirror, a washbasin, and a pitcher of water, there was little else in the room.
Miceral closed the shutters, and Farrell cast a spell to keep prying ears away. A soft puff of light exploded above his hand, sending sparks to all points in the room.
“Now we can speak without others listening to our conversation.”
Leothan smiled and clapped Miceral on the back. “He’s a handy friend to have about.”
Miceral laughed. “He’s a great deal more to me than just a friend.”
“Lenore finally made good on Her promise, did She? I certainly didn’t expect it would be a human, much less a wizard.”
Glaring at Leo, Farrell walked over to Miceral. “Muchari really think highly of themselves, don’t they? Next he’ll call me a silly, soft human.”
Leothan raised an eyebrow at Miceral.
“My father didn’t exactly approve at first of my being paired with a human.” Miceral took Farrell’s hand and kissed it once. “Fortunately, Father has come around.”
Surprised, Leo looked at Farrell. “You must be quite extraordinary for Horgon to be that accepting.”
Before he could respond, Miceral wrapped his arms around Farrell’s waist and kissed the top of his head. “He is that and more.”
Farrell smiled at the show of affection, then scanned Leothan with his wizard’s sight. Finding nothing, he relaxed and wiggled free of Miceral’s grasp. With only two chairs in the room, Farrell lifted his legs and sat hovering next to Miceral.
“Another handy trick,” Leothan said as he sat down.
He reaffixed his staff to his back. “It has its uses.”
“What brings you to Belsport?” Miceral asked.
“With Northhelm gone and no way to reach those who fled, this is as good a place as any to make a living.” Leothan shrugged. “They are a rich and prosperous people who appreciate the skills I offer. What about you? Are you really mercs hired by the prince?”
The Eye and the Arm Page 7