Benjamin Ashwood

by AC Cobble

  A fat, jolly looking man called out to him from behind a grill covered in long skewers of meats and vegetables, “ho there boy, you look like you could use something to eat!”

  Ben smiled in return and stepped up to see what the man was selling. The skewers appeared to be similar to the ones sold by other street vendors at nearly every major intersection throughout the rest of Fabrizo. Ben commented on it and the man replied, “ha! Smart boy. Everyone comes to the Stranger’s Market for something exotic but what is exotic to a man from Ooswam? Not ostrich pies my friend. Fabrizo’s finest skewers are! Nice for you too. The foreign stuff is no good around here. Don’t see a lot of live ostriches in Fabrizo, do you?”

  Ben was curious about some of the things he’d seen, but the man was right. Where did they get the ostrich meat around here?

  He passed the man a few tin bits and got a paper wrapped skewer in exchange. He sat down on a bench in front of the stall and took a bite of the vegetables and greasy meat on the skewer. The crowd in the market was just as interesting and diverse as the wares for sale.

  Even from across the bridge he had been able to hear a deluge of strange sounds. Unknown languages, music, the water and sea bird sounds of Fabrizo plus the clatter of commerce all contributed to an aural equivalent of the dinner he had the night before. Once on the island, the people seemed to be from a hundred different races and cultures, each with their own unique style of dress. There were shaven headed olive skinned people in long flowing robes that reminded him of Saala, dark heavily scarred men wearing only baggy trousers, pale raven haired men and women who wore exclusively black leather, a lot of men who must be sailors, women in dresses finer than anything he had seen in Farview and some women wearing hardly any clothes at all.

  He admonished himself for staring but couldn’t help wondering what Amelie or Meredith might look like in some of those outfits. One woman walked by in a flimsy dress that covered from her neck to her ankles but when she got close he almost choked on his skewer – he could clearly see through the light material that she had nothing on underneath. He’d seen girl’s bodies before in the summer when they’d swim in the rivers around Farview, but that had been much more innocent than this.

  The craziest part was that when he was caught staring, some of the women gave him an appraising look right back. The woman in the see through dress even leaned towards him, winked and in a honeyed voice whispered, “come find me later at the Barker’s tent, half price for you.”

  These were the women Cranston warned him to stay away from.

  Ben finished his skewer and feeling a bit more settled headed back into the Market. It was early afternoon and he wanted to find Amelie’s ribbons then head back to the inn before it got dark. After spending the day navigating Fabrizo’s winding streets and bridges, he knew he’d have much better luck finding the place in daylight.

  It took him awhile but near the edge of the Market he finally found what he was searching for. A kind looking shriveled old woman was selling ribbons, buttons and sewing supplies. The woman was only asking a copper for a ribbon so Ben bought a handful of different ones and still had two of the heavy silver coins and several copper coins left over. He had more ribbons that he could ever imagine the girls needing but the old woman looked like she could use the business.

  His errand accomplished and having seen a good portion of the city, Ben started back to the inn feeling content. He had daydreamed his entire life about seeing big cities and having adventures, but in the back of his head he was always nervous about the thought of leaving Farview. Farview was familiar and it was comfortable. As it turned out, Fabrizo was different but it wasn’t intimidating or scary. Well, aside from the table full of eyes it wasn’t scary. So far, the people seemed to be friendly and helpful.

  Ben lifted his head and took a deep breath of the salty air. As he moved, he heard a few small clinks and glanced down. Around his feet he saw the contents of his coin purse and a grubby hand scooping it up.

  A boy near Ben’s age but shorter and skinnier jumped up and slashed a knife in Ben’s direction before shouting, “don’t try to follow me!”

  The boy scrambled backwards several steps then turned and bolted down the street. Ben felt by his hip and realized the kid must have cut the bottom of his coin purse. “Stop, thief!”

  A rough looking sailor wearing a loose knit hat and no shirt, chuckled as the thief ran past him and called, “well, aren’t you going to chase him?”

  With that, Ben sprang into a run. As his scabbard slapped painfully against his leg he thought his next lesson with Saala needed to be how to run with a sword on your belt. He grabbed the hilt and tried to steady the weapon as he barreled across a connecting bridge but it left him feeling off balance.

  Like any boy from Farview, Ben worked for his bread and he was in good shape. But the thief was quick and familiar with these streets. Ben found himself hurtling over low carts and dodging passersby all the while yelling for assistance but no one made a move to slow the thief down.

  The thief seemed to have no problem navigating the congestion in the streets and was quickly gaining distance. The only thing keeping Ben in the race was that they were moving over more commercial islands that had broad open streets. In some of the narrow alleyways he’d passed earlier in the day the little thief would be lost in the twists and turns in no time.

  Ben knew he had to try something or Amelie’s money and his life savings would soon disappear into the back alleys of Fabrizo. He shouted, “stop, or I’ll put this crossbow bolt in your back!”

  It was ridiculous, he didn’t have a crossbow and the thief had surely seen that before robbing him, but it was the only gambit he had.

  And it worked. The thief glanced back in disbelief just long enough for an apple cart to roll into his path. He crashed into the cart at a full sprint. Legs kicking in the air, he flipped over the cart causing an explosion of apples before he crashed down on the ground. The owner of the cart started yelling and kicking at him.

  Ben redoubled his speed, he wanted to get there before anyone else claimed his coins.

  Suddenly, right before Ben got there, the apple cart owner fell back gripping his leg and shouting curses. The thief was up again, dashing into a nearby alley with his small blade in hand. Ben paused long enough at the mouth of the alley to make sure the kid wasn’t waiting in the dark to stab him then drew his sword and strode in.

  The alley opened up to a small, empty courtyard with several closed doors, probably stairways to people’s upstairs apartments. The thief was franticly trying to find one unlocked.

  “Stop right there, thief.”

  The thief spun around with his blade out but his eyes popped when he saw Ben’s sword. Ben dropped into one of the more aggressive fighting stances Saala had taught him. The kid was quick with that knife, but the little training Saala had given him and the unbeatable reach advantage he had with his sword made him confident this fight would be a sure thing.

  The thief must have felt the same way and tossed his little knife down at Ben’s feet. “Look, I’ll give you your money back. No harm and all is forgotten.”

  He started digging into his clothing and Ben tensed, thinking he had another hidden knife, but he came out with his own coin purse tied around his neck and emptied it into his palm. “See, all here. Take it. We don’t need to have a problem.”

  Ben had the thief pinned in the alley and thought about calling for the authorities, but considering how little help he’d gotten pursuing the thief out of the Market and across several islands, he guessed that Fabrizo was a town where people handled their own business. He felt like he should do something about the thief but he didn’t know what. All of his money looked like it was held in that dirty hand.

  “Drop it. And next time, I won’t be so nice!”

  The coins clinked onto the cobblestones. The thief edged around one side of the courtyard and Ben the other. He spared a glance to confirm all of his money was lying there, and maybe
a little extra, but he quickly turned back to the thief and watched him snatch up his knife before slowly backing out of the courtyard.

  Still nervous about the thief returning, Ben laid his sword down on the cobblestones and collected his coins. He was counting them to see if they were all there when the thief appeared back at the mouth of the courtyard, this time slowly backing into it with his hands raised. Ben quickly slipped his money into his pocket and stood with his sword raised defensively.

  The thief was not paying any attention to Ben though, he was focusing on someone coming down the alleyway after him.

  “Nowhere to go this time, Renfro.” The shirtless sailor with the knit cap that Ben saw earlier was slowly advancing into the courtyard holding a long curved knife. It was nearly the size of a short sword and was wickedly serrated along the interior curve. That knife was meant for gutting. Two bulky, menacing looking men with cudgels followed behind the sailor.

  “Look, Casper, I didn’t know it was protected. I swear. I’ll pay it back. Whatever I need to do.” Renfro, the thief, kept moving into the center of the courtyard. Ben held his sword steady but other than a glance from one of the hulking thugs behind Casper, he was being ignored.

  “Doesn’t matter Renfro. And we both know you can’t pay back an entire cargo of Ishlanese carpets. The Guild’s going to pay the coin but you’re gonna pay the blood price.”

  Renfro glanced back at Ben and pleaded, “you wanna get involved in this? They’re going to kill us both man! You’ve got a sword!”

  Casper grinned and kept his eyes on Renfro, slowly waving his knife in front of him.

  Ben eyed the three thugs and shuddered. All three of the men stepped confidently and from the variety of scars and crooked noses, this wasn’t the first time any of them had been a scrap. He knew it’d be long odds, trying to face down seasoned brawlers. But the courtyard was big enough to provide all the room he’d need with his sword and he had the advantage of holding the more deadly weapon.

  Renfro still had his hands in the air and wasn’t making a move towards the small knife he had tucked in his belt. Ben figured he could count on the small thief to join the scrap if it came to it, he seemed earnestly afraid for his life.

  But Ben had no dog in this fight. The thief had victimized him minutes before and if anything, he probably deserved whatever these people were going to do to him. Clearly they knew each other well and Renfro had violated some agreement they had.

  Ben eyed Casper and asked, “I was just recovering my stolen property. You saw me chasing him. I don’t have anything to do with this, can I go?”

  Casper finally spared Ben a glance, “yeah, get out of here.” He ran his thumb along the edge of his blade to emphasize his point, “but I don’t need to tell you to forget this ever happened.”

  Ben nodded and started edging around the courtyard, just the way the thief had done earlier. Renfro made eye contact and no words were necessary, his look told Ben that he was being left to die.

  “Wait!”

  Ben couldn’t let them kill the kid. There is right and there is wrong. Ben didn’t know what should be done with the thief, but he knew leaving him to be gutted in this courtyard was wrong. And who were these men to decide? What gave them the moral authority to decide Renfro’s fate? Before he knew what he was doing, Ben had decided that Renfro should face the law. Renfro would have consequences for his actions, but it would not be determined by these men.

  “This man will be turned in to the city guards. He will face punishment for stealing from me and whatever else he’s done, but it will be by the proper authorities.”

  Casper snorted, “proper authorities. And who might that be? Renfro is one of our’s and he will face our justice. Leave now and I may not remember your face.”

  Ben raised the point of his sword, “I am not leaving unless I take him with me.”

  Casper looked to his companions then back at Ben. “How do you think you’ll take him? There are three of us boy. There’s no reason for you to die here too.”

  The two massive thugs finally gave Ben their full attention. One of them started slowly spinning his club, his thick tattooed arms flexing with corded muscle. Too late, Ben realized those cudgels must be filled with lead or some other heavy element. The thug didn’t have to strain to swing the thing, but it was clear it was far heavier than a simple wooden instrument. That cudgel swung by that man could easily shatter bones and leave him crippled. Suddenly, the sword didn’t seem enough of an advantage.

  “I don’t know if I can take all of you, but I know you can’t take me uninjured!” Ben dropped back into Saala’s aggressive fighting stance and hoped the thugs would see reason. He knew he couldn’t win this fight, but he hoped they would realize it wasn’t worth it.

  He was wrong.

  The thug on his left, his off hand, suddenly moved around the side of him. Ben turned slightly to face him and before he could react the second thug smashed his cudgel against Ben’s blade, nearly sending it spinning across the courtyard. The only thing that allowed Ben to hold on was his weeks of practice on the road with Saala.

  The man obviously expected Ben to lose the weapon and had quickly advanced after his strike. Ben swung backhanded at him and sliced flesh before the thug jumped back – a long red line spreading across the big man’s torn shirt.

  Before Ben could feel smug for winning the first salvo, a fist the size of a small ham from the first thug smashed into the side of Ben’s head. It sent him crashing to the ground with the world spinning and lights dancing in front of his eyes.

  The injured thug stepped over to him and Ben saw a steady flow of blood had already painted half of the man’s chest. He placed a heavy foot on top of Ben’s sword and muttered to his companion, “bastard’s got some fight in him, huh?”

  Ben struggled to move his sword before his eyes rolled up and he slid into blackness.

  The Philosophy of Thieves

  When Ben regained consciousness he was lying face down on a damp stone floor. A scent like old wheat filled his nostrils. His head was pounding like it was stuck between a blacksmith’s hammer and anvil. His muscles felt like they had the consistency of Edward Crust’s holiday jelly.

  Briefly, he was back in Farview and struggled to remember what kind of horrible, or wonderful, night led to such a painful hangover.

  But the illusion was short lived. He elicited a groan as he rolled over to his back. The prospect of sitting was forgotten when his vision swam with streaks of color in the dark room and a wave of bile threatened to fight it’s way up his throat.

  “Awake now?”

  The slightly familiar voice brought it all back. The theft, the fight in the courtyard and now what? He was surprised he still lived. From his back, Ben could see the walls of a dimly lit room slowly come into focus. A sturdy oak door was the only break in the stone walls. The floor was uncomfortably hard and it was coated in a heavy layer of dust. The rest of it really didn’t matter, it was a prison and that’s all he needed to know. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss their confinement with the person who got him there, so he remained silent.

  “I want to thank you for standing up for me,” continued the boy they called Renfro, undaunted by Ben’s refusal to acknowledge him. “I haven’t had a lot of people do that for me so it means something. Well, it would if we weren’t locked in here.”

  Ben succumbed to curiosity, “and where is here?”

  “Basement of the Thieves Guild. They’ll hold us here until they execute us.”

  Ben groaned again. The details of how and why they would be killed seemed strangely unimportant. Renfro had accepted his fate and Ben was inclined to follow him. He just had another hard lesson that he was no hero in a story. Breaking out of prison, fighting off the pursuing bad guys and saving the girl – well, thief in this case – that was the kind of thing that only happened in stories. He was learning that real life was much more painful and he couldn’t summon the unassailable hope that all the story heroes
had.

  Renfro fell silent. Ben suspected he was normally a very talkative fellow but the depressing circumstances made for difficult conversation.

  They sat like that for several hours, Ben staring at the rough wooden ceiling, inhaling the musty scent of the room and hearing scratches and squeaks of what had to be rats. Over time, the throbbing in his head started to fade but the monotony of the cell crept in on him.

  He wanted to turn his thoughts off but couldn’t. His mind raced through the possibilities earlier in the afternoon. Given the result, he felt he must have decided incorrectly. But he still couldn’t convince himself that leaving Renfro to die would have been right. Whatever Renfro’s crimes, he should face judgment from proper authorities, not a gang of thugs.

  Eventually, the silence in the room was broken by approaching footsteps and a key sliding noisily into the oak door.

  Ben was surprised when Casper and a woman entered. The woman sat a white linen napkin covered tray on the floor and quickly disappeared back through the open door. Casper nudged the tray with his boot and said, “food and water. We’ll keep you alive for now. I suggest you eat it before the rats do.”

  Seeing Casper’s boot drew Ben’s attention to the rest of him. In the streets, he had been dressed like a sailor with torn pants, shirtless and a dirty knit cap. Now, he was decked out in finery more befitting a Lord’s throne room than a dungeon.

  Casper was wearing a billowing snow white silk shirt, snug dark colored pants, fine leather boots and a wide silver studded belt. On one hip he had a wire handled rapier and on the other a jewel pommeled dagger. He had the look of a dashing buccaneer from Ben’s imagination.

  “I had to come talk to the boy who risked his life to save someone who stole from him. I can only assume you have an interesting perspective on this.” Casper squatted down near Ben, unafraid in his own dungeon. “Tell me about it.”