by K. F. Breene
Boas gave him a constipated look as the guard shifted.
“You’re not from around here,” the guard said.
“No,” Boas answered. “Can you point us toward a good inn?”
The guard squinted. He pointed off to the right. “Head that way until you get to the blacksmith. Turn left. There are a few inns right up that way. Ha-Ra Inn isn’t far beyond that.”
“Thank you, good sir.” Boas nodded and clicked his tongue to get his horse moving.
“Mind yourself,” the guard called after them. “Outsiders are watched pretty closely around here.”
“He does not favor the Graygual,” Boas said as they walked their horses away. Hooves on cobblestone echoed against the buildings. “When I said I killed them, I felt his mood shift.”
“I doubt many people like the Graygual.”
“True. But he was not afraid. That is good.”
“We should’ve asked him how many there were in the city. It would’ve saved us some time.”
Boas glanced down an alleyway. Leilius couldn’t see his eyes, but the way his head turned as the horse walked on told him he was looking at someone.
“See anything?” Leilius asked softly.
“See? No. But someone is there, lurking. They are up to no good. There is crime in this city.”
“There’s crime in every city.”
“True.”
When they turned left, smaller dwellings slowly turned into storefronts with hanging signs. While the usual city grime was evident, this one seemed cleaner than most. The streets were mostly swept, shops lined their windows with their wares, and signs boasted fresh paint.
“S’am once said that the Graygual officers make the townspeople keep their town clean. I wonder if some higher-level officers were here.” Leilius leaned to the side, trying to peer in a window. Knives and various weapons called to him, asking him to buy something sharp and light. “I need to get a new knife tomorrow.”
“The guard at the gate wouldn’t have acted the way he did if the officers were still here. So then, if they were once here, why did they leave?” Boas watched a drunk man stagger down the road. The man burped loudly before staring down Boas.
“Problem?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Boas didn’t answer, just continued to stare.
“Don’t pick a fight, please,” Leilius murmured. “Let’s just get to an inn.”
“He is spoiling for a fight. Seems a waste not to engage.”
More people wandered the streets now, most of them swaying from their card games and drinking. One man had a buxom woman under each arm, only pausing in his talking to take in their delighted laughter. Their efforts to keep him upright were unmistakable.
Boas huffed out a laugh. “He will pay them to tuck him in.”
“I’ll doubt they’ll go that far. They’ll probably drug him and just drop him on his bed.”
“You are very knowledgeable for one so young.”
“At first I was interested in the stories Tauneya’s women told. Kind of exciting, know what I mean?”
“No.”
Leilius scowled at him. “Well, anyway, they started getting really raunchy when they found out I was a virgin. I couldn’t get away from them then. Now I know all the swindling tricks, whether I want to or not. Any desire I had for a prostitute has been shattered.”
“I wonder that you ever had any in the first place. They don’t even excel at pretending. They are nothing more than a warm body for a desperate man.”
“Clearly you have been a desperate man, huh?”
“No, but I was curious. The question was answered. I had a rash to show for it.”
“Why would you share that?” Leilius shook his head and pointed at the first inn up the way. “That place looks okay.”
“It looks expensive. We’ll go further.”
“The cheaper ones have fleas.”
Boas smiled. “You and they will have something in common.”
“I’m not the one that just admitted to a rash.”
“It went away.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s probably what everyone says.”
“Yes.”
Leilius ignored Boas’ grin. He was probably lying about the whole encounter. One never could trust his stories when he had that grin.
Yelling drew Leilius’ attention. Two men fell out of a doorway, wrapped in each other’s arms and writhing. They rolled over before one got his arm free and started pummeling the other. A woman screamed and ran out after them, holding her skirt with one hand and a mug in the other. She stooped and struck the aggressor on the head. He grunted and slowed, allowing the other man to get free and jump to his feet.
The freed man brought his foot back before delivering a kick, catching the downed man in the ribs. The woman grabbed the standing man’s shirt sleeve and started to pull him away down the street.
“That is the right place. Let’s stay there.” Boas started toward the stables attached to the inn.
“Nope,” Leilius said, crossing his arms. “No way.”
A big-bellied man filled the entrance to the inn. A hard expression coated his flat face. He crossed his arms, much like Leilius had, and leaned against the doorway, looking out.
“No way,” Leilius said again under his breath, hunching a little. He was on a fine horse, leading two other fine animals, in front of what must be the roughest inn in town. There was no way he’d blend in.
With a change of mind, he straightened and dropped his arms, now holding the reins with feigned confidence in an air of nobility.
The man in the doorway spat. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand before recrossing his arms. Smears stained the white apron spreading across the expanse of his stomach.
That man wouldn’t be impressed by much, Leilius had a feeling. He might just go back to hunching.
“Let’s go.” Boas sauntered out of the stables with his natural killer’s grace. The man in the doorway’s facial expression didn’t change. “There is room for all the animals.”
“No,” Leilius said in a low tone. He didn’t want the man in the doorway, who was probably the cook, to hear. For all Leilius knew, the man would get offended, pull a knife out of nowhere, and throw it at Leilius’ head. “Let’s go back to the other place.”
“Here we go.” Boas took his horse’s reins.
“No!” Leilius said through clenched teeth. “This is my show. I call the shots, and I say we’re not—” Pain rolled through his body and seized up his jaw. Waves of agony vibrated his bones, freezing him in place. Boas took the opportunity that he had obviously created to calmly lead Leilius around the side and to the stables. There, without letting up on the body-consuming horror that coursed through Leilius’ veins, Boas pushed his shoulder and knocked him off the horse.
5
“We’ll need to board this one as well,” Boas said to someone wearing shit-stained boots.
“Is that guy okay?” someone with a young-sounding voice asked.
“Yes. He’s just suffering from a momentary case of idiocy. Soon he’ll think with his brain instead of his shriveled nut sack.”
“If you say so,” the stable hand said.
Another pair of boots walked over and stopped by Leilius’ head. Boas looked down on him. “Are you playing dead?” The pain receded, and Boas bent with his hands on his knees. “I have not seen that before. But look, it clearly works.”
That was why Leilius always fell back on that approach.
He shook off the pain. “I realize you want to stay here because the men are obviously drunkards, and drunk men talk…” Leilius opened his mouth wide before rotating his jaw to loosen it up. “But when they are fighting, they don’t say anything worth listening to.” Leilius straightened out, jittery with the remnants of pain that the mind took longer than the body to forget. “We’d be better off in a less violent place.”
“Fighters are wary of those they cannot easily dominate. They steer clear enough to stay
out of a fist’s reach, but not so far as to miss weaknesses. They will know the most about the Graygual, I should think. Besides, you are not limited by the inn. You can go wherever your heart desires, as long as you bring back information.”
Instead of heading into the inn through the stable door, as normal patrons would’ve done, they walked back around to the street. Boas stood there for a moment, staring straight ahead.
“What are we doing?” Leilius asked, slinking to the side.
“Just looking.” Boas glanced right, stared for a moment longer, before turning in that direction and heading toward the inn door. He stopped in front of the man in the doorway. He’d made no move to clear to the side. “Do you work here?”
The man shook his head.
“Do you work here?” Boas repeated in the traders’ dialect.
“No. I wear a dirty apron for the love of it,” the man replied.
“Do you also stand in doorways, blocking patrons, for the love of it?”
The man surveyed Boas for a moment. His arms lowered slowly and he took a step back. “It is not wise to think you are the best warrior in the room before you have entered the room.”
“This is true. Luckily, I think I am the best warrior in the whole city. Since I have already entered the city, and have not yet found my equal, I am confident this room will be no different.”
The man turned without a word, leading them further into the hovel that did not, even remotely, match the relatively well kept exterior. The banister of the staircase had pockmarks and missing spindles. Suspicious brown patches stained the floor, hinting at the results of various fights. Through an archway with peeling paint lay an expansive room with rickety tables and chairs, a couple of booths, and a large bar lining the back. Jeers and laughter rolled through the smoke-filled air. Glasses clinked. A woman cackled.
The man gestured toward a ruddy-faced woman behind the bar who was cleaning a glass. Her breasts were pushed up to her neck and held there, ample cleavage for any eye to get lost in. Of course, there were probably weapons lost in there too, hidden until the need arose.
“Maggie’ll get ya sorted,” the man said, walking behind the bar and looking out at the rowdy game players. Wood screeched against the floor. A man stood, knocking over his chair. He swept the cards to the ground and yelled something in a language Leilius had never heard before.
The woman’s gaze focused, tracking the disturbance. She muttered something.
The man shrugged and leaned against the bar, watching two men square off by the fireplace.
“How many rooms?” the woman asked, scanning Boas and then Leilius. Her gaze touched each thing of value, big and small, on their persons.
“Two,” Boas answered in a bored voice. “Boarding for six horses.”
The woman’s gaze locked with Boas’ as yelling erupted behind them. She didn’t seem to notice. “Six horses, you say?”
“Yes. Graygual horses. It would be best that they remain in my possession.”
“It would be best if they were not in my stable.”
“Better that you keep them safe than if you allow someone to take them.”
The man, who could have been the woman’s husband, shifted. His gaze wasn’t on Boas, though. It was on Leilius.
Leilius edged away a little, unsure of why he was suddenly the object of scrutiny.
The woman tsked and raised her eyebrows. “Such a big ego for so slight a man. This city looks nice, but it is rough. I think you’ll learn that the hard way.”
“Why does it look so nice, then?” Boas asked.
“For someone with a few Graygual horses, you don’t know too much.” She pushed two keys across the bar. “That might work out badly for you in the end. You’re in room eight. Your friend is in seven. Pay upfront. I don’t want to be out of money if you turn up dead.”
The man was still looking at Leilius. It was becoming disconcerting.
“Two meals, two pints, and two baths.” Boas laid out more than the amount needed. The woman’s stare intensified. “Keep your silence, and there will more.”
The woman huffed and wiped the money off the bar, muttering something. Boas grinned as the man slowly took two mugs from a shelf and began filling them.
“She doesn’t think I’ll last the night.” Boas looked out at the common room. “Where will you start?”
“Bed. It’s too late to get anything meaningful now. I can start in the morning.”
The mugs landed on the counter with solid thunks.
“The Chosen will be eager to get on the way. We’ll work tonight and send a message early.”
“Sit. I’ll get you some gruel.” The man wiped his hands on a dirty towel and turned toward a half-door and the kitchen beyond.
“Gruel?” Leilius whined.
They sat at a table in the corner of the room. The gruel tasted about as good as it looked, and after Leilius choked his portion down, he wiped his face on his sleeve and glanced at the sleeping man at the table next to him. “Will you be coming with me?”
Boas finished his pint. He wiped his mouth and set his mug to the side. “In a way. I’ll be near you, but not with you.”
Leilius rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll head out, then. Where will I meet you?”
“Depends on what you find.”
“Do you make my life more difficult intentionally?”
“Yes.”
Why the captain had chosen Boas, Leilius had no idea. It was a hindrance more than a help, especially when he left Leilius to fight instead of just stopping the battle before it began.
Annoyed, Leilius reached the front door and saw the familiar figure standing in the doorway. As Leilius approached, the man looked back, met Leilius’ eyes for a moment, and then resumed his previous pose. “I know you.”
Leilius paused, now standing behind the girth of the man.
“It is safe for the Wanderer here. We keep our eyes out.” The man crossed his arms over his chest, still looking away. “We are doing our duty.”
“How do you know me?”
“Your description has been passed along. Word is that you, and others like you, help people. You travel with the Wanderer. We’re here to help, though the missus will probably still make you pay. She’s a hard one to talk around.”
Leilius shifted. “The Graygual are gone?”
“Yes, as far as I know. They pulled out as one. We didn’t chase them; they left on their own. There’s talk of a big battle about to be waged. It is away in the west.” The man turned, leaning his back against the door frame. He coughed into his fist, then left his hand there, picking at his nose.
“There are rumors,” the man said into his hand. “Shapes moving in the night, barely seen. Just lately. The gates haven’t seen anyone. Could be just talk. Fear.” He flicked his finger. Whatever was on it flew off.
Leilius grimaced and looked away.
The man went at it again, his hand covering his mouth as he indulged in cleaning his nose. “Keep your eye out. If you need information, or help, ask after Easy Bernice.”
“That’s the name you came up with? Easy Bernice?”
The man wiped his finger on his apron. “Your friend is not what he seems, eh?”
“No, and unless a bunch of Inkna come through, he doesn’t even have to lift a finger to be the best warrior in this city.”
“Ah.” The man wiped his face, covering his mouth again. “He is one of those. The strongest only until his power is taken away.”
“He is still excellent, even without that. You are standing in a darkened doorway. Who do you assume can read your lips?”
“He is excellent, but maybe not the best.” The man turned, finally glancing at Leilius. “Better safe than dead. Leaking knowledge is as good as dead. Let it not be said that I plunged the land into ruin. Now go. Chase the shadows. Make way for the Wanderer.”
“A little over the top,” Leilius muttered as he drifted into the night.
He moved along the wall, openi
ng up his senses to what lay in wait. Something tugged at him immediately, a presence drifting behind him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Boas had taken up stalking him. Why he didn’t want to look around together was anyone’s guess.
Moonlight glimmered atop a rivulet of water leaking from a shop drain and into the cracks of the cobblestone street. Away from the inns, the noise of the city died down. Something scurried underfoot. Leilius froze until he identified a cat leaping up onto a fence and quickly jumping over.
He wound his way to the guard station, wondering about the vigilance. There he saw the man from earlier, still standing on the wall and looking out. Leilius could barely see his head moving, scanning from side to side.
Wondering about the ease of getting into the city any other way, he slunk through the quiet streets until he reached the wall behind a row of houses. Getting over the small, rickety fences was easy, and scaling the barrier, twice his height, wouldn’t be too big a challenge either, not with the vines and trees crawling up and reaching over. So much for the gate and guards.
The star-filled sky twinkled above, stretching out over him like a blanket. He marveled for a moment, never getting tired of the beauty of a clear night. That presence lurked just up the way, no doubt wondering what Leilius had gotten up to.
Sighing softly, he took off down a small lane, glancing at the dark windows of shabby homes. As he continued along, the dwellings improved until they were quite large and stately. The city had social levels, and judging by the front yards and walkways, most were occupied. They’d struck it lucky with the Graygual that had inhabited their city.
Growing steadily bored, Leilius wandered back toward the strip of inns, the only place still lively so late. At the corner of the strip, with the glow of the interiors spilling out into the street, something new stroked the edges of his mind.
He stopped and slid into a shallow shadow, ready to watch and wait. A man laughed as he stumbled out of a building ahead. He patted himself down and looked around, almost as if something had gone missing. Before he continued, another man walked out behind him, straight and tall.