“Yes,” D’Jenn agreed, letting all but three of the coins fall back into the purse and handing it back to Dormael, “well I have an idea about how to deal with Hadrick. We have something more valuable than gold to offer him, and there’s no way we’ll get out of Borders without him knowing of it. It may be to our advantage to ally with him in some manner. Let’s clean up this mess and move on to Borders, I don’t want to be caught on my laurels either.” D’Jenn then bent down to Bethany’s level and pressed the three coins into her hand with a smile. “You take that, dear, maybe we can find you something nice when we get into town,” he said.
As D’Jenn turned away, Bethany turned a sly smile up to Dormael, who winked at her in return.
****
The companions rode on through the night after all the traces of the battle had been erased from the site. The men’s horses had been scattered, and some had begun to return to Borders before the party had set out. They had passed them on the road, the confused beasts now bereft of their riders meandering slowly back to where they came from, as some trained horses were wont to do. For some reason the sight of a lone horse always filled Dormael with a feeling of sadness and some unexplainable loss, even if he knew and didn’t care about the reason. Horses were intelligent animals, and Dormael had a soft spot in his heart for them. However, there was nothing to be done about it, so the party had continued on past them toward the town of Borders.
As the morning sun crested over the snowy land to the east, the companions began to wind down a descending road into a valley not unlike the one that Ferolan had rested in, and the sight of the town of Borders materialized in the morning mist. The night had been cold, and the melting of the snow had been halted, so that it still lay in great clumps upon the ground. The effect was that the land appeared to be snowy white mottled with browns and greens. The sunlight fell brokenly upon the clumps of snow, falling like water down towards the jumbled mass of buildings that was Borders.
Borders was not a small town, though it was not a great city like Ferolan, either. It had grown up as a trading post between Dannon and Cambrell, seemingly random in its planning, so that now the buildings seemed to have been erected in no pattern at all, and built with any material close at hand. However, over the years Borders had survived because it was a favorite stop for smugglers seeking to bypass the taxmen of Ferolan by braving the Maelstroms at the mouth of the harbor. As a result, Borders men were mostly corrupt at best, and the local government regularly took bribes and sometimes even orders from the underground crime syndicates, who were the real power in Borders.
Things like public works did not concern these men, and so there were few stone constructions in Borders, and even fewer paved streets. There were no local laws concerning the disposal of trash and offal, and so the effect was that Borders was a dirty and perpetually fragrant city. As the companions slowly made their way down the plateau on the Cambrellian side of the valley, they could smell the rotting fish of the harbor, and the strong putrid smell of human waste. Shawna made a slight strangling noise and placed her hand over her mouth, and Dormael only shrugged at her in reply.
Bethany simply looked up at him from her perch on Horse, and said with finality, “It stinks.” Dormael patted her on the head and nodded his silent reply.
Borders was encircled by a wall made of the trunks of fir trees, harvested from the nearby evergreen forest and sharpened at the top. Along the landward side of the town a great trench had been dug and filled with more sharpened stakes. That was a new addition since the last time Dormael had been here, and he wondered idly who it was that had attacked the town to cause the crime syndicates to erect these defensive structures. It was true that there was much gold to be made by controlling the town, but not by any political power, so it must have been a gang war or some such nonsense. Money was truly the root of evil here in Borders, and the root of all power.
As the party approached the front gate of the town, another construction of fir tree trunks, four men garbed in a motley combination of mail shirts and armed with simple spears moved to bar their path into town. They stopped patiently and waited for one of the men to speak. One man, not quite obviously their leader, moved forward and took in the party and their horses in a few glances, and finally looked to D’Jenn and spoke.
“What business you got comin’ here, savage?” the man asked in a tone that didn’t really bode ill, but at the same time was none too respectful, “and why you travellin’ with them two women?”
“That’s my business,” D’Jenn shot back easily, “and it will stay that way.”
“Fair enough,” the mailed man replied, “we don’t get many savages this way, and you’re a strange lot. I’ll be needin’ to ask you, though, if you’ve seen anything strange out on them roads, or in the hills. There’s trouble out, and I’ll be needin’ to know what’s afoot.”
“What sort of trouble?” Dormael asked him.
“Well, we’ve had a bit of fightin’ in the last month. There’s a group of men out there, somewhere in them hills, and we reckon that they’ll be back soon to attack us.”
“There was a party of horses, just up the road that we passed on the way in,” D’Jenn informed him, shooting Dormael a sly look, “no riders, but they were saddled.”
“Damn,” said the man in reply, “that’d be Fulgaar’s men, I’m sure of it. They left here night before last, and ain’t returned as of yet. Fulgaar’s a Dannon, and a damn fierce one, so they must’ve met something ill, alright. I’ll have to send someone out there to gather up the horses, no sense in wastin’ them.”
“Indeed,” D’Jenn nodded, his face as straight as an arrow, “well, friend, we really must get going.”
“Ah,” the man began, holding his hand up, “there’s just a small matter before you go. I’ll be needin’ to collect the road tax from you.”
“The road tax?” Dormael asked sarcastically.
“Aye, the road tax, keeps the streets of Borders beautiful, you see, and keeps travelers free of trouble. It’s just a small pittance, really.” D’Jenn looked to Dormael and Shawna with a raised eyebrow. Shawna said nothing, as she was not used to having to parley with men of seedy nature, but Dormael just sighed and shrugged his shoulders. It would be much easier just to pay the man his bribe and move along than to start a scuffle over a few coins. D’Jenn grimaced and fished into the purse they had recovered from the men on the road the night before, and tossed the mail shirted man a gold coin. The man, now smiling, snatched it from the air and bit into it before wrapping his dirty hand around it tightly.
“Will that cover it?” D’Jenn asked.
“Indeed it will,” the man nodded, and moved out of the party’s way, signaling his men to move aside as well.
“Here’s to beautiful streets,” Dormael shot at them, waving his hand to indicate the muck that their horses were slogging through as they started to move through the wooden gate.
“Beautiful streets,” the man replied with an open grin as they moved out of sight of him. Dormael nudged Horse up beside D’Jenn, and spoke quietly to him.
“Quite the charismatic con man, wasn’t he?” Dormael commented, and D’Jenn smiled.
“Yes,” D’Jenn replied, “at least he was honest about it.” The cousins both shared a laugh full of mirth. Shawna only shook her head, but Bethany didn’t understand the joke. Dormael reached down and ruffled the young girl’s hair again, and she smiled.
Borders was a dirty, run down, and stinking cesspool of corruption and crime. The dwellings and establishments were built shabbily, and the streets were not so much streets as spaces between buildings where one could walk or ride his horse. There were no cobblestones or flagstones here, just slimy and sometimes deep mud that would surely be a nightmare for dust in the summertime. The people were of questionable character, and the local gentry might as well have not even existed.
They plodded slowly through the muddy avenues of Borders, turning one way and then the other as they sea
rched for an inn. The streets were sparsely inhabited this early in the morning, and the companions almost had run of them. There was an occasional man or woman who slogged sour-faced through the deep mud, not even bothering to look up at the mounted passersby. For the most part, though, the inhabitants of Borders were still lying in their beds. That served the party well enough, for there would be few eyes that would see them come into town.
Eventually, after twisting and turning through the muddy streets for awhile, they came to a three-story building, made of timber and nails with a black slate roof. The smell of pine resin was strong, as if the wood that built it was only cut yesterday. The door stood closed against the cold, but a hand-painted sign hung from a nail at eye level that said “rooms available”. D’Jenn looked to his cousin and shrugged, then dismounted Mist and began to mount the three tiered staircase that led to the door. Before he could raise his hand to the knob, and while the other members of the party were dismounting, Shawna cleared her throat to get their attention.
“Remember our bet, boys?” She asked, and met D’Jenn’s incredulous look with a raised eyebrow. Dormael began to laugh, and D’Jenn shook his head with a smile.
“Of course, My Lady,” D’Jenn bowed to her, “after you.” Shawna smiled and raised her chin slightly, taking on the air of a disdainful noblewoman. Sniffing as she passed D’Jenn, she put her hand on the doorknob, and twisted it open with arrogance and forcefulness. D’Jenn looked to his cousin, and Dormael only shrugged in return. His hands signaled we got ourselves into this mess; we’ll just have to deal with it for now.
If it gets too dangerous, D’Jenn’s hands signaled back, we’re taking the lead again, bet or no bet. Dormael lifted Bethany from Horse’s saddle and began to remove their saddlebags, seeing as how no stable boy had come around to help with the horses. He noticed then that Bethany had been watching their exchange in the Hunter’s Tongue. Dormael raised his eyebrows at the little girl, and she simply smiled and signaled back with her own tiny hands.
Shawna will do good, her little hands signaled, she is a great warrior.
Yes she is, Dormael signed back to her with a wink, but it isn’t her swords we’re worried about little one. Did you understand all of that?
Yes, her hands said, and then she turned and mounted the steps to the inn. Dormael shook his head and went back to untying the saddlebags from the horses. He hefted his own gear, and took Shawna’s and Bethany’s as well, and as he mounted the steps to shabby looking inn, swaying under the awkwardness of his burden, he heard Shawna’s voice from the open doorway.
“Ah, there’s my servants,” she was saying to a bald, skinny man who was knuckling his forehead, “Now, if you would kindly see to our rooms, and send a boy around to take the horses to the stables. I want them brushed, mind, and only the best feed you have for our mounts.”
“Yes, Lady…?” the bald, simpering man stammered, at a loss for a name.
“Sienna. I am the Lady Sienna.”
“Yes, My Lady. I’ll send someone to stable the horses immediately, and I can send someone for your bags as well, Madam.”
“Nonsense. My servants will handle the baggage, thank you. I want two rooms, one for my manservants and one for myself and my younger cousin. Well don’t stand there all day, man, see to it immediately,” Shawna ordered, and the skinny man jumped into activity.
“Yes, My Lady,” he squeaked, and went quickly behind the counter and began rummaging through sets of keys and poring over a dusty, leather-bound ledger. Within a few moments he had two sets of brass keys and had marked them down for two rooms on the third floor, at Shawna’s request. Shawna held her nose a little higher than usual, and her manner was one of someone being greatly inconvenienced. Dormael stood waiting impatiently to get the infernal bags from his shoulders, and tried not to let his irritation show. A good servant didn’t express any opinion of his master in the presence of others.
Finally, the innkeeper led them up the creaky wooden staircase leading to the top level, and after he had showed them to their rooms and Shawna had demanded bathwater be sent up, she dismissed him with a wave of her hand. He went, shuffling quickly back down the steps and disappearing as fast as possible. Dormael didn’t blame him. Once he had gone, D’Jenn spoke up.
“Do you really think a noblewoman with two Sevenlander servants isn’t going to raise a few eyebrows? It’s not much of a disguise, really.”
“Well, you said that it would be prudent to ally with this Hadrick fellow. Soon enough, word is going to reach him of what’s going on here, and he’ll send someone to investigate. If he is, as that Dannon said, the unofficial ruler of Borders, he’ll come to us. That is what we wanted, isn’t it?” she replied.
D’Jenn could only shrug and admit that her logic was sound. It would save them the task of hunting down Hadrick, at any rate, and perhaps get them a bit of good treatment at the inn to boot. Shawna opened her doorway and looked to Dormael meaningfully. He moved into her room and dropped her saddlebags on the floor carefully, and moved back into the hallway.
“I’ll expect to see the two of you later, after you’ve washed,” she dismissed, and taking Bethany with her, she stepped into their room and shut the door behind her, leaving Dormael and D’Jenn out in the hallway. The cousins looked at each other with tired and exasperated expressions, and then turned and entered their own room.
The first thing that Dormael noticed was that the room was incredibly dusty. Dust motes seemed to hang in the air like they were swimming, and a light layer of it covered everything. There were two beds inside facing the door with enough room to walk between, and two unstained wooden wardrobes against the hallway wall. There was an old and ratty rug thrown haphazardly on the floor at the foot of the two beds. All Dormael noticed, however, were the beds. He could feel the fatigue from their lack of sleeping the night before seeping into his body, and he didn’t even try to fight it.
He tossed his saddlebags unceremoniously onto the floor, and D’Jenn did the same. Dormael uttered a sigh of exhaustion, and kicked his soft leather boots off of his feet to clatter against the rough timber floor. Both cousins then plopped down on the cool mattresses and fell into a deep, tired sleep.
****
When Dormael rose from his fitful slumber, the afternoon sun was casting a low orange glow into the room, and D’Jenn was resting in a dented brass tub right over the ratty rug at the foot of his bed. He had his long hair undone, and his feet propped up out of the water on the edge of the large basin. His tattooed arms, resembling Dormael’s own, also hung out of it, and his head was back and his eyes were closed. A similar tub sat at the foot of Dormael’s bed, tepid water standing inside of it.
D’Jenn’s bathwater was steaming, by magic unless Dormael had missed his guess. It had been some time since Shawna had asked for the bath to be sent up, and Borders wasn’t the type of place where you found inns that were keen on service. What they were getting so far would be considered preferential treatment here, and likely the innkeeper had been grumbling about it all day.
Dormael wondered if Hadrick had heard anything yet, and if he had, who had told him. It could have been anyone, and there was really no use in wondering about it. So Dormael rose from his bed, and began to undress for his bath. Opening his Kai, he heated his bathwater with magic, and soon he was resting in his tub opposite D’Jenn, and much in the same fashion.
They sat like that for a while, enjoying the feeling of warm water and cleanliness, rinsing the dirt and stress of the road away. Every few minutes one or the other of them would shift their positions a bit, making sloshing noises in the tubs, but save that there were no sounds. At least, not from their room; the walls in this place were thin, and somewhere below them there was an argument between two men. Dormael couldn’t tell if it was coming from a room or the common room on the ground floor, but it didn’t sound too serious. It was none of his business anyway.
“The girl shows a lot of promise,” D’Jenn spoke from his tub suddenly
, “I think she is quite powerful. It’s rare for someone to sense the magic on their first try.”
“Yes, well, I think she had been keen to it before, with the armlet speaking to her all the time. Some of the things she would say to me sometimes just seemed too strange to ignore, and the dream was the cap on it. I knew there was something going on at that point,” Dormael replied, letting out a long sigh of relaxed pleasure.
“Still, I think we are in for a few surprises with Bethany. What will you do with her when we get to Ishamael? Are you thinking of turning her over to the Conclave for training?”
“Not my choice,” Dormael snorted, but he already knew he didn’t like the idea, “It’s hers.”
“Don’t evade the question, cousin,” D’Jenn admonished him, “you know damn well that she will do anything you ask of her. Will you convince her to go, or not?”
“I don’t know, D’Jenn. What do you think?” he asked.
“It is her place, after all.”
“Yes.”
“It’s the only place she’ll receive a proper education.”
“I know.”
“You can’t drag her around the world forever, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then why in the Six Hells aren’t you going to do it? I knew you wouldn’t even before I asked.”
“Because Gods be damned D’Jenn I love that little girl like my own!” It was out before he could take it back, and Dormael suddenly felt himself growing red in the face. He groaned and slapped a wet hand over his face as D’Jenn began to laugh lightly from his beaten, brass tub.
“I knew it,” D’Jenn giggled.
“Of course you did, you son of a goat. You’re always manipulating me into admitting such things,” Dormael shot at him with mock anger.
“And you’re always shooting off on some new flight of fancy. I just hope Bethany isn’t one of your whims, cousin,” D’Jenn said.
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 27