A Call to Arms: Book One of the Chronicles of Arden

by Shiriluna Nott

  Gib rolled his eyes good-naturedly. He didn’t know what could be so great about a dirty tavern full of drunkards, but he also didn’t want to sit around his room all night, fretting about the assassin or Hasain’s total disregard of his warning. He was also feeling strange around Joel. As pleasant as Joel could be, Gib always felt—awkward around the mage trainee.

  So Gib agreed to meet his companions at the gates later that evening. He would give this Rose Bouquet a try. Perhaps after a round of ale, he would be able to forget about the worries plaguing his mind.

  As the group of friends crossed over the crack-riddled bridge that spanned the width of the Tempist River, Gib blinked in sudden realization. Since arriving at Academy, he hadn’t left the school grounds to venture into the city. Besides the time he’d ridden through with Liza, he’d never set foot in any other part of Silver.

  Tarquin, Kezra, and Nage walked with the utmost confidence, suggesting that all three of them knew their way around—which of course, they did. Each of them had grown up in this city. Judging by the mansions lining both sides of the street, it was possible both Tarquin and Kezra had grown up along this very road.

  Traders Row was nearly abandoned this late in the day. Indeed, nearly all the market stands that had lined the cobblestone path when Gib first arrived in Silver were missing. He ventured to guess little business was to be made once the sun went down. And who in their right mind would want to be out in this weather? Gib wrapped his fur cloak more tightly around his shoulders and sped up. It was downright bitter outside. He could see his breath in the chilled air. Surely it would begin to snow any day now.

  “Almost there,” Tarquin piped up ahead of him.

  Gib squinted through the dimly lit streets and his mood improved at the sight of a large building on the corner ahead, with cheerful music and warm light radiating from behind the closed shutters. It was the only building in the entire city that seemed to have any life to it on this cold winter evening.

  People were conversing on the front steps; some of them laughing boisterously and others talking in merry, spirited voices. Some of them were clad in armor, most likely sentinels of Arden who were off duty. Others appeared to be regular city folk, dressed in garments ranging from silken vests to drab linen tunics. It was a strange mix of wealthy and common folk.

  Curiosity piqued, Gib followed at the heels of his friends, dodging between the strangers and doing his best not to accidentally bump into any of them. They seemed to be in fair moods, but Gib didn’t want to take any chances of being the source of a drunken brawl.

  As he approached the open door, Gib took in the scent of roasted meat, simmering stew, and ale. The winter breeze giving way to warmth lifted his spirits, and the sound of jovial music rang in his ears, beckoning him to come inside. Tarquin led the way through the door.

  The interior of the tavern was more spacious than Gib would have imagined. Tables occupied most of the area and were packed tightly together, so close to one another it was possible to touch the person sitting at the next table. The tabletops were nothing like the finely crafted desks so frequently used at Academy. Made of rugged oak wood, these tables were cracked and chipped from rough handling and bathed in the scent of spilled ale and tobacco. Gib relaxed a bit—the etiquette encouraged at Academy wouldn’t be enforced here.

  At the rear of the tavern was a modest stage, elevated several feet. Standing on this platform was a trio of bards. One played a pan flute while the other two kept rhythm with a mellow sounding gittern and a set of hand drums. Many of the people gathered inside were clapping along to the light and joyous music. Some were even dancing. Gib blushed when he saw the scantily clad women twirling on tabletops. Clearly they were part of the entertainment, for even as Gib averted his eyes, one of the women leaned down to accept a coin from a patron.

  To the side of the stage, a crowd of people gathered at what Gib assumed was the bar. Tavern maids carrying mugs brimming with ale made their way along the counter, stopping to deliver drinks or accept currency before scampering back into the kitchen. They were laughing with the customers, exchanging jokes and friendly touches as they worked. The crowd was boisterous in return, rowdy without being discourteous. Gib noted the discrepancies in clothing and social standing among the gathered patrons, yet no one seemed to care or even notice. He’d never seen such amity between perfect strangers. This place seemed to defy the laws that had for so long been engrained in his mind.

  The group of friends chose a booth toward the back of the room, away from the bustle of the bar and music. A tavern maid brought each of them a tall mug of ale, smiling brightly as she worked, and accepted their coins.

  Tarquin took a hearty pull from his tankard before turning his eyes to Gib. “So what do you think of the Rose Bouquet?”

  “Uh, good.” Gib also took a drink in an attempt to clear his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about what had happened earlier. He didn’t want to dwell on what may or may not befall the King. Clearly no one else was worried about it anyway. “So anyone can come here? Commoners and nobility alike?”

  Tarquin nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. As far as I know, anyone is welcome. My brother, Asher, told me all sorts of stories about the place.”

  Nage spluttered on his beer, setting his mug down with a loud thud. “Stories? You mean you’ve never been here before?”

  True to his nature, Tarquin blushed a deep crimson and looked down at his hands. “You mean inside? Well, once or twice with my father. I’ve never been here on my own.”

  Kezra caught Gib’s eye and they both grinned.

  Tarquin puffed out his chest despite his blush. “I’ve had ale before! And I’ve travelled the Traders Row by myself plenty of times. I’ve just never had a chance to come here by myself.”

  Nage laughed and leaned across the table. “If you’re so worldly, I dare ya to go and take a coin to one of the pretties over there. See what she’ll do for ya in return.”

  Gib blushed almost as hard as Tarquin, knowing all too well the implications. Tarquin just about dove under the table at the suggestion. “I’m a gentleman!”

  There was a good laugh at that. Nage slapped his hand on the table, but he didn’t push it further. Instead, they all slipped into drinking their mugs and watching the sights. The music was changing and the dancing became more suggestive, slower and deeper. Gib winced and decided to focus on his drink, knowing he should have expected this when he agreed to come here. He just didn’t expect to feel so uncomfortable.

  Several moments passed before a loud whoop came from the tavern’s entrance. Kezra and Tarquin both groaned, and Gib didn’t have to look to know who it was. Nawaz Arrio swept through the door, closely followed by Hasain Radek. The two were almost instantly enveloped with giggling, scarcely dressed women.

  Gib shifted uncomfortably once more and was sure he saw Tarquin do the same thing. They were both old enough to know what a brothel was and what was to be expected, but Gib felt out of place among his friends.

  The music was picking up and still more people flocked inside. Gib found himself drumming his fingers on the tabletop and trying to find a polite way to excuse himself. He didn’t want to spoil anyone’s fun, but his discomfort wasn’t lessening. It would be better to leave now rather than embarrass himself or someone else.

  “Gibben Nemesio?”

  Gib sank in the booth but knew it was too late. Nawaz Arrio had already jumped into one of their empty seats. “What are you guys doin’ here? I was sure you’d all be tucked safe in your beds at this time of night.”

  Tarquin stiffened. “What’s that supposed to mean? We have just as much right to be here as anyone else!”

  Nawaz fixed the young lordling with a glazed-over stare. “You need to learn how to have fun, boy.” He reached over and tipped the brim of Tarquin’s hat down into his face. Tarquin spluttered but Nawaz had already turned back to Gib and lowered his voice. “Hey, Hasain told me about what you heard earlier.”

  “Di
d he scoff about how ignorant I am?”

  Nawaz smiled crookedly. “Hasain thinks everyone’s ignorant. You’ll get used to it. For what it’s worth, though, it’s probably nothing to lose sleep over.”

  Gib rolled his eyes. “You too, then? All right. I guess I’ll just sit here and drink ale while our king’s life is being threatened—”

  Kezra and Nage stopped their impromptu game of arm wrestling. She whipped her head toward them. “What was that?”

  Before Gib could say another word, Nawaz had shot them all down with waving hands. “Hey! Shhh. Not here, okay? And trust me, this sort of thing happens a lot. It’s probably nothing.”

  Tarquin, Nage, and Kezra shared dark looks among themselves but didn’t press the issue.

  Gib, however, was unsatisfied and shook his head. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone dislike a king who has made it possible for everyone to do as they wish and make better lives for themselves? How could anyone be upset with the freedom of others? Won’t it make our country stronger if more people are educated and more people are able to defend it?”

  Nawaz smiled in a way that could almost be charming if he wasn’t being loud and bothersome. “Not everyone sees it that way. There are people who fear they’ll lose their power if others gain any. They fear equality.”

  Gib crossed his arms over his chest, careful to protect his splinted hand. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Kezra jumped into the conversation. “You’re right. It doesn’t, but my own father is one of the ones who fight to keep commoners and women ‘in their place.’”

  Tarquin was blushing again as he regarded Kezra out of the corner of his eye. “My father says you’re brave to be so defiant, Kezra.”

  Her own voice was stilted. “Uh, thanks. I suppose.”

  An awkward silence followed where neither she nor Tarquin seemed to know what to say. Nage snickered quietly and Gib wanted to smile despite the awkward lull.

  Mercifully, Nawaz broke the quiet when he leaned back in his chair and waved Hasain Radek over to the table. “Hasain! Over here!” A mischievous smile flickered on his lips. “You babies up for some real fun? You know, drink some beer, play cards, watch a girl take off her clothes?”

  Gib’s insides were in knots, but the others all seemed to want to go along.

  Nawaz laughed and tapped his fingers on the table directly in front of Gib. “Or I could send a servant to read you a bedtime story, if that’s more your speed.”

  Gib bit his bottom lip, but the smile in Nawaz’s eyes suggested that he meant no ill will.

  Gib pushed past his discomfort. “Fine. What’s your game?”

  Nawaz produced a deck of cards from his pocket and moved over when Hasain showed up with two young women—one hanging off each arm. Gib tried not to notice how their dresses just barely covered their bosoms. He likewise tried not to look directly at Hasain, lest he glare and make it obvious he still wasn’t satisfied with the lack of concern for their king.

  Hasain, for his part, seemed equally dissatisfied. He stuck his nose in the air and addressed only Nawaz. “Why are we keeping company with the children?”

  Nawaz rolled his eyes and began shuffling the cards. “You got a better idea? Make some friends I don’t know about?” When Hasain only gave him an icy glare, the young lord nodded. “That’s what I thought. Sit down. There’s room.”

  The eight of them managed to fit around the table in their booth, and although space was limited, no one complained. Gib sighed and accepted the hand of cards he was dealt as Nawaz made his way around. Tarquin passed, saying that he’d watch the first round to learn, and the girls who’d accompanied Hasain opted out as well. They, instead, seemed more interested in ordering drinks and hanging off the older boys. Neither Nawaz nor Hasain seemed to take much note of them, tossing coins their way so they could drink their fill but paying them not even a glance other than that. Gib frowned but stayed his tongue.

  The game was some form of gambling that Gib had never heard of before. He explained that he had no money to bet with. Hasain gave him a smug look but Nawaz only shrugged, saying it was just for fun. After that was cleared up, Nage also willingly joined.

  They played ten rounds, and Kezra wiped the table all but three times. When Gib thought to harass her she only grinned back at him. Nawaz and Hasain likewise seemed impressed and laughed among themselves, even mentioning they were glad they hadn’t bet money.

  A little while later, a girl with dark hair and a scant outfit came up to their table. Gib assumed she was there to see if they wanted more drinks. Instead, she leaned over their scattered cards and half empty mugs to twirl a delicate finger in Nawaz’s hair. “Hey there, lover boy. Were you watching me up there?” She indicated the stage with a nod of her head.

  Nawaz looked up at her and offered a winning smile. “Jade! You know I was.” He crawled out of the booth, past Hasain and his lady friend, to wrap his arms around her.

  She glanced over at the table, specifically at the prostitute who’d been hanging off Nawaz earlier. “Am I ruining your plans?” She continued to run her fingers through his dark locks before leaning up to bite at his throat. “I don’t want to share.”

  Gib shuddered uncomfortably and saw Hasain roll his eyes. The young Radek lord glared up at Nawaz and gave him a pointed reminder. “I paid for them tonight. Whether you take her or not, it’s your turn to pay next time.” Gib blinked. Was this conversation actually happening? And why wasn’t the girl—prostitute or not—offended to be spoken of in such a way?

  Nawaz waved off Hasain. “Yeah, yeah. Next time I buy. I get it.”

  “What are you going to do with her?” Hasain spoke of this person, this human being, like she was a play thing or a bauble. Gib glared at Hasain despite the fact that the girl didn’t seem fazed in the least.

  Nawaz wasn’t paying attention any more. Jade was pulling him away from the table. He stopped long enough to look back at them and the prostitute. A wicked grin broke across his face, and Gib sank down in his seat when those piercing blue eyes fell onto him.

  “That’s a real shame, wasting such beauty on this cold night.” His voice dripped sarcasm, his dangerous smile never wavering. Gib frowned and was about to jump up out of his seat, but as always, Nawaz was one step ahead of him. The young lord pointed to Gib before motioning to the lonely prostitute. “Here, have a gift.”

  Gib lifted both hands, not thinking of the one in the splint, and waved them. “No, no! That’s all right.”

  The prostitute came over to him anyway, her own devilish smile fixed on him. When she touched his chest, the sentinel trainee fell back into his seat.

  “Nawaz! Take her with you. I have to–to go back to Academy.” His voice squeaked.

  Nawaz made his getaway. “You can thank me later, boy. It’s the only charity I’m giving you.”

  Gib turned his head, trying to call out once more, but already the prostitute was straddling his lap. Her hands were in his hair and her smooth voice caressed him gently, “What’s the matter, little one?”

  He was distantly aware of his friends laughing at him. Hasain was clearing the cards off the table as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

  Gib looked up at her, realizing for the first time just how low-cut her dress was. Taking a deep breath, he tried to get his hands between himself and her. “I—really. I can’t stay.”

  She laughed and put her mouth next to his ear, so close he could feel her breath. “It’s okay. Everyone has to have their first time. Relax, I’ll make you look good.”

  He tried to say something back, anything, but he couldn’t even breathe. The knot in his stomach was wrapped so tightly his lungs couldn’t expand. She was leaning down and pressing her lips to his neck. He tried to back away but the booth had him trapped. Kezra and Nage were making cat calls and telling him to relax.

  The prostitute giggled as she licked his earlobe. “Close your eyes, little one. Think of whomever you want and pretend your frie
nds aren’t here.”

  Gib choked. He couldn’t do that! He wouldn’t do it. This was not what he’d wanted for himself for his first time, and he certainly didn’t want to do it here, in front of his friends and Hasain.

  Gib shook his head defiantly, but she closed in as if to kiss him, and he slammed his eyes shut on reflex. Think of anyone you want and pretend no one else is here. When her lips brushed his, Gib could think only of misty blue eyes and dark waving hair. Her small hands were replaced with slightly larger ones that were gentler and more timid. She whispered something in his ear about how well he was doing, but he couldn’t hear her voice. He couldn’t hear a woman’s voice at all. All he could think of was Joel Adelwijn.

  Gib gulped and spluttered, pushing her away with more force than he’d meant to use. She toppled back and he instinctively grabbed for her, knocking his splinted hand on the table in the process. The prostitute stared at him in shocked resentment, and he felt his cheeks go white hot. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

  The pain flared in his wrist, but he helped her stand anyway. The look of shock on her face made him wish he could curl up and die. Gib knew, in the back of his mind, that she was a prostitute and this was her job, but he couldn’t imagine the rejection was any less jolting. “I’m sorry,” he offered again, weaker this time. “It’s not you. It’s me. This isn’t—I can’t do this.”

  The table had gone quiet. Kezra scooted her way out from the booth, and Gib felt her tap him on the shoulder. Her voice was low but reassuring. “C’mon, Gib. I’ll walk with you back to Academy if you want.”

  Tarquin scurried out to follow her, and Nage hesitated for just a moment more before also rising from the bench. The three of them lingered behind Gib, waiting, but he couldn’t leave just yet. The sentinel trainee was distinctly aware of Hasain’s eyes and the prostitute wrapped under the Radek lord’s arm was glaring as well.