Guards Vestige

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Guards Vestige Page 13

by Alexander Adams


  “You do that. Tell them Watch Captain Flint says hello.”

  The trader continued to fume but wisely kept his mouth shut to avoid any further loss. Flint signaled for the gate again. Once it was down, the trader snapped the reins in his hands, causing the horses towing the last of his goods to trot through. When he was well on his way, Flint waved Claudia and the others to ride over with their horses and stand by him.

  “Greetings, Dragon Guards and,” he looked at Aaron and Daniel for a moment, “company. I trust your horses are in good health?”

  Claudia spoke as she rode past the captain without breaking stride. “They are, and if that’s all then we will be on our way.”

  “Of course.” He raised his hand and the stone gate was slowly raised just enough to block their path. “But those boys still have to pay for the toll.”

  Claudia abruptly pulled her horse around to face him. “Are you denying passage to a member of the Dragon Guard?”

  “Not at all. I am after all not only a strict follower of the law but I have the privilege to enforce it.” He looked up from his papers and pointed at Daniel and Aaron. “They aren’t Dragon Guards, therefore they still have to pay.”

  “They are our recruits. Denying them is the same as denying one of us,” Claudia said. She dismounted and stood toe to toe with Flint.

  “They wear no bands around their wrists nor do they wear the black or the armor of your order,” Flint said. “Therefore there is no indication they are anything but regular citizens on their way through our fair city, who by coincidence seemed to have arrived and are leaving at the same time as you. The lovely man you saw a few moments ago arrived yesterday and left just before you. Should I assume he too is a member of your order and allow him free passage simply due to the coincidence of time?”

  Claudia was fuming. She looked ready to kill Flint until Mila placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “How many marks is the toll?” Claudia hissed.

  He seemed to consider for a moment. “Let’s keep it reasonable, say . . . ten gold marks. Each.”

  Kenneth spoke up from the back. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’ve never enjoyed jokes.”

  Mila cut in. “We’ll trade a horse. A good horse can fetch you fifteen in Dalisia easily.”

  “This isn’t Dalisia,” Flint said. “I’m afraid there’s not much of a market for horses here. Confined spaces and all that.”

  Mila’s face went dark. She took a slow step toward the captain. “Do you really want to do this, Flint? Keep me in this city for longer then you really have to?”

  He stared her down and lifted a finger to tap at the scar casually. He spoke so quietly to her that Daniel almost missed what he said: “I hope your aim has improved.”

  Claudia pulled Mila back by the shoulder and then remounted her horse, spurring it toward the other gate. “Fine, we’ll take Gamblers Pass.”

  As the rest of them headed for the other gate, Flint called out, “That’s a wonderful plan, but those two still have to pay for us to open the gate. Until then I’m afraid they aren’t going anywhere. The three of you, however, can leave anytime you want.”

  Kenneth slammed the door to their small room and started pacing, his face dark red. He looked ready to go on a rampage. Claudia seemed equally furious, while Mila simply stood in the corner, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

  “So what do we do now?” Daniel said, looking to each of them in turn.

  “Maybe you guys should go without us and come back with the payment?” Aaron said. He sat on his bed and cracked his knuckles absentmindedly.

  “It’s a two-week journey to Vigil from here,” Claudia said, “and we’d have to make it there and back. By then you might not be here anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

  “We have only so many marks at the moment,” Claudia said. “The inn would kick you onto the street once you ran out and you’d be forced down to Slum Level. The people down there aren’t the most . . . friendly sort.”

  Mila mumbled in the corner, “Flint wouldn’t let them last more than a day, regardless.”

  Aaron tapped his foot nervously. “Could we climb over the wall?”

  Claudia shook her head. “Too high,” she said. “We wouldn’t make it halfway before a guard spotted us.”

  “Maybe there’s a sympathetic guard that would let us through?” Aaron said. He was grasping at straws at this point. Even Daniel knew that.

  “Sympathy doesn’t exist among the guards here,” Claudia replied. “Chances are they all get cuts from the marks and the goods they steal. They won’t want to risk losing that. Not to mention that most of them fear Flint or are deathly loyal to him. Neither of which is exclusive.”

  “There has to be a way out of here and someone who knows what it is,” Mila said.

  Claudia sighed. “If we’re going to find it we better do it soon. We have only enough silver for another two days at the inn. After that we’ll be in the slums.”

  Mila took off her scarf and threw it onto one of the beds. “I’ll take Daniel to Market Level and see what we can find out from the vendors.”

  Claudia nodded and pursed her lips. “Good idea,” she said. “Kenneth can take Aaron around Service Level. Maybe the bartenders and innkeepers will have a lead. I’ll walk the residential levels. We’ll meet back here at dark. See what we’ve learned, if anything.” She made her way to the door. “Remember, keep this quiet. If the city watch find out Aaron and Daniel are trying to leave without paying, they could end up in prison or worse.”

  Claudia, Kenneth, and Aaron left the inn while Mila took a few moments to remove her armor. When that was done, she led Daniel to a set of stairs a short distance away from the inn that led up to Market Level. When they crested the top of the stairs, Daniel looked across a sea of people that filled the wide passage. Market Level was far more crowded than both Service and Slum Level combined. The walls were the same color clay, but every few feet an alcove was cut out in the stone for a stall and small room behind it, presumably for storage.

  Daniel nearly shouted to be heard over the noise of the crowd: “So why did you want me to come with you?”

  Mila leaned toward him: “Think of it as a learning experience. Just stay close and don’t talk to anyone unless I say.”

  She started forward at a casual walk, stopping at several stalls and looking over the items before moving on to the next. She passed a woman selling embroidered shawls and tunics and without breaking stride grabbed a long, brown and black shawl from the lowest shelf while the merchant’s back was turned.

  Daniel furrowed his brow as she placed it around her shoulders. “Is there a reason you stole that?” he whispered.

  “I’ll give it back when we’re done here.”

  “Okay . . . but why do you need it?”

  “Everyone knows what Dragon Guards wear, be it our leather or our black, and most people won’t talk to a Dragon Guard about anything. Therefore I need to not look like a Dragon Guard.” As she spoke, she wrapped a thin, forest-green cloth around her waist to cover the rest of her black. Daniel hadn’t even seen her take it. When she noticed the look he was giving her, she shrugged. “What? I’ll give this back too.”

  Mila continued walking from stall to stall, never stopping for more than a few moments. She never spoke to the vendors or other customers, though a few times he noticed she lingered in one place longer than another. Other times she passed a stall entirely and moved on to the next. Mila continued this for nearly an hour. After trying and failing to understand her plan, he decided it was time to ask.

  “What exactly are we doing?” He walked at her side as they left another stall and made their way to the next.

  “We’re listening,” she answered. “Try it. Focus on the conversations around you. You’ll be surprised what you hear.”


  Daniel nodded and followed her advice. He went to the stall opposite her and started mindlessly looking over the wares. As he pretended to be interested in various animal hides sewn into blankets, running a hand over the furs, he listened to the people around him. Though he tried to focus, there were too many voices at once and he couldn’t make out any of it. Frustrated, he decided to pick out a single voice and focus on it while attempting to tune out the rest.

  An older man’s voice was far louder than those around him so he focused as best he could. He was speaking to a vendor at the next stall over. In spite of the fact that Daniel was able to tell his voice apart from everyone else, he was only able to pick out a couple of words in the chaos. None of them were anything particularly useful from what he could tell. The voice started to grow quieter, so Daniel guessed he was walking away from him. Exasperated, Daniel stopped listening altogether and instead looked for Mila. She leaned against a wall a short distance away, watching him with a raised brow and a thin smile.

  When he made his way over, she leaned in. “Well?” she asked. “What have you heard?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything useful. There are just too many voices all at once. How am I supposed to pick anything out from all of it?”

  “It helps to listen for key words instead of the entire conversation. After some practice, you’ll be able to pick out words even in the loudest markets and inns. Then, when you hear one of them, you focus on that voice only. For instance, I heard someone say Dragon Guard. So I listened to them more closely and they went on to talk about you and Aaron by saying ‘those boys at the gate.’ Shortly after, they said, ‘I wonder if they’ll go see Barden.’ Which was followed by some laughter before the conversation changed topics.”

  “So what does that mean?” Daniel asked.

  “It means we find out who Barden is.”

  “How exactly do we do that?”

  “Like this.” Mila walked to the closest stall and leaned on the table.

  The merchant, an elderly man with a short beard, stepped up with a smile on his face. “See anything you like, miss?”

  Mila didn’t hesitate to get to the point: “Do you know a man named Barden?”

  The merchant rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Oh, by Verhova,” he said, “what do you want with that drunkard?”

  Mila too crossed her arms, feigning impatience. “He owes me a lot of marks. Where can I find him?”

  The man sighed. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. If he’s not at the Prospector’s Rest getting drunk or enjoying himself at Talia’s Temptations, you can probably find him in his poor excuse of a business at the northern corner of market.”

  Without another word to the man, Mila walked back to Daniel. They continued on their way without a glance back.

  He raised an eyebrow. “To be honest,” he said, “I didn’t expect you to simply ask about him.”

  “Oh, and why not?”

  He shrugged. “Well, after the whole disguise thing and the listening to others conversations, key words and all, I figured you would of had a grander plan.”

  “You work with what you have,” Mila said. “The merchant gave me the knowledge that he’s a well-known drunk. Also judging by his reaction to the name, I guessed he was usually in trouble of some kind. Gambling tends to go well with alcohol, so it was an easy jump that he would owe me money.”

  “Okay. So what’s next?”

  “We find out why his name was mentioned along with yours.”

  She led him to a stall where an elderly woman was selling herbal remedies and incense. The woman’s wide smile revealed several missing teeth. Mila browsed the various vials of plant oils for a few minutes before picking out a vial of king’s bloom extract and digging into the coin purse at her belt.

  She smiled at the woman. “King’s bloom is good for bleeding and infections, correct?”

  The woman nodded. “A good few drops on a bandage can halt bleeding almost instantly,” she said. “You can make a salve from the core of the flower as well but that’s far messier.”

  “Perfect! How much for a vial?”

  “Twenty copper.” She grinned as Mila handed her the marks.

  “Speaking of prices . . . ” Mila leaned in. “Did you hear about those two boys at the gate this morning, the ones with the Dragon Guards?” She raised her eyebrows and grinned.

  The woman laughed lightly. “I think everyone in Grey Gate has heard at this point. Can you believe the gall of those cowards, trying to leverage the law to get them through!”

  Mila waved her hand. “It’s a ridiculous law,” she said. “They hardly do anything anymore. Why should they be allowed special treatment?”

  “Frankly,” the woman said, “the whole of Vigil should be torn down and its citizens sent to fend for themselves in the wilds like my ancestors were when they stood by as Edaren destroyed most of Prect. It’s far from the worst they deserve, but it would certainly be a start.”

  “Do you think Barden will do anything about the whole thing?”

  “Oh, please, that man is a joke. I don’t think he’ll be able to do anything for them even if he wants to. The guards watch him far too closely since Lisa’s arrest.”

  Mila nodded. “Fair point, I suppose. Well, thank you for the extract.” Mila smiled and walked away with Daniel in tow.

  When they were a fair distance away, she tossed the vial onto another stall as they passed. She repeated this process four more times, using the information she learned from the previous conversation to further advance the next. It worked better than Daniel had thought it would. When Mila reached a point in a conversation where she could no longer add to it to glean new info, she simply moved on. After well over two hours, they’d learned quite a lot about Barden and the reasons he was mentioned.

  His wife, Lisa, was arrested under the charge of smuggling travelers out of Grey Gate. Barden and four others were under suspicion of the same act, but they had been absent from the area when Lisa was arrested. With no other evidence against them save for rumor and no confession from Lisa, they managed to stay free for the time being. Since his wife’s arrest, their general store was struggling due to his reputation as a suspected criminal and his clear decline into depression, which he treated with frequent trips to the local bars and, other, establishments. This in turn led to a fast-growing debt to several locals due to a gambling habit he picked up at the same bars.

  Now Daniel and Mila were on the far northern side of Market Level, where the stalls had all been replaced by doors and display windows of a more standard market feel. There were fewer and fewer people the further they went. When they reached the end of the tunnel after nearly another hour, they stopped before a single door with a wooden sign hanging above it that read Barden’s Bargains. Mila tried the handle but found it locked, so she knocked lightly and waited. When no answer came, she tried again. When the door still remained closed and there was no indication it would be opened, she frowned and pulled out a small, brown leather case that was clipped to her belt.

  She opened it, revealing dozens of small metal picks, some with hooked or oddly shaped ends and others curved slightly along their length. After making her selection, Mila went to work on the lock. She quickly swapped one of the picks out for another, much shorter one and after only a minute; Daniel heard a click come from the door and a satisfied hum from Mila. She stood, pushed it open, and stepped inside. The room was small and lined with wooden shelves, most of which were empty. At the back of the room, a balding man sat in a chair with his feet resting on the counter and an empty bottle in his hand. Several more bottles were scattered on the floor around him.

  Mila sighed and rubbed her temples. “Oh Verhova you can’t be serious.”

  Daniel looked at her. “What is it?”

  “I know him.”

  She walked over to the man, with a look of pity
on her face. After a moment, she kicked the chair out from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. Barden huffed and rose rather quickly to his feet, swinging his arms out wildly and babbling nonsense at an unseen assailant.

  When he noticed them, he attempted to smooth the wrinkles of his clothing and compose himself. “I, uh, yes . . . good evening.”

  Mila rolled her eyes. “It’s well past noon.”

  He looked surprised. “So it is,” he said. “Well then, I suppose you’re here to buy something?”

  “No. But I do want to know when you started going by Barden rather than Jeremiah.”

  Barden looked at her with squinted eyes for a moment before realization washed over him. “Strike me blind . . . Mila? What in the world are you doing here?”

  “I was looking for you. Seems you’ve made a bit of a name for yourself around here.”

  “I uh . . . I suppose you could say that. What do you need? I shall assist you to the best of my, uh, current abilities.” Barden set his chair upright and sat down with very little grace, nearly tipping over again. He picked through the bottles at his feet until he found one with liquid still inside and lifted it to his lips.

  Mila reached over, took the bottle from him, and set it on the floor. “Jeremiah. What are you doing here? Why’d you leave Vigil?”

  He frowned and watched her with a dead stare. “You know why.”

  “You only ever did what you had to.”

  “That doesn’t mean I liked any of it.”

  She sighed and nodded. “All right. So why Grey Gate?”

  “It’s an easy place to hide,” he said. “You know that. They knew my name but not my face. Easiest solution was a new name, and so here I am.”

  She looked at him for a long moment and nodded slowly. “So, you got married?”

  He nodded and bit his lip. “I did. Lisa . . . she was everything to me.”

  “She got arrested. You were both smuggling people out of Grey Gate along with a few others from the city.”

  Barden leaned over, grabbed the bottle from the floor, and looked at the little bit of liquid left inside. “Quit stating facts we both know and get to the point. What do you want, Mila?”

 

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