After a while, he stood and stumbled out the door. He had fallen asleep wearing his clothes, including his boots, and it made it easy for him to leave without bothering Atock.
He quickly and quietly left the room. His stomach gurgled as he walked down the stairs, reminding him how long it had been since he had eaten. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned left and entered the common room.
The common room had twenty or so tables arranged in a haphazard manner, and a small stage on the far end of the room. The stage was vacant, but the common room was quickly filling up. To the left of the entrance was a bar that ran along the wall. Two barmaids were kept busy pouring drinks.
Most of the patrons were either members of a caravan or farmhands from Juttstown, but there were some who stood out in the small crowd. A large circular table near the stage was packed with boisterous guards, who seemed to be enjoying themselves and the ale. The rest of the patrons stayed busy avoiding the guards and some went so far as to leave because of the guards.
Several travelers sat at the bar, seeming to be alone. An old man sat at the far end of the bar, nearest to the stage, quietly drinking. He only spoke to the barmaid and then only to ask for a refill. Several big men sat by themselves, they had the look of mercenaries, and the rest of the patrons did a good job of staying clear of them as well.
Flare sat down at a small table along the right wall. The tables immediately around his were empty, and he got the added luxury of putting his back to the wall. A couple of the drunken guards glanced his way, but they were the only ones to notice him and they didn't bother to look twice.
Flare waited for several minutes before a serving girl hurried over. The girl looked to be about fourteen, and she was in a sad state.
“I am so sorry that you had to wait, but two girls didn't come in tonight. What can I get you?” She asked in a hurried breathless tone.
Flare blinked at the young girl while he deciphered her words. “Oh, I'll have ale. What do you have good to eat?” He asked.
“Ale's not a problem. It's a copper,” She said. As she caught her breath, her speech slowed down and was almost understandable. “As for eating, there's soup and bread for a copper, and chicken for another copper. I don't know how good it is though.”
Flare handed over three coppers, “I'm sure that it will be fine.”
The girl nodded and hurried off just as a familiar figure entered the room. Philip walked over and took a chair beside Flare. He looked horrible. He had bags under his eyes, and his hair was all out of place. Even his clothes looked wrinkled as if he had slept in them.
Flare winced at the thought that he probably looked as bad as Philip.
“Evening,” Philip mumbled as he sat down at the table. “Anything to eat around here?”
At that moment, the serving girl rushed back over and placed the ale and food in front of Flare. Philip quickly ordered the same as what Flare was having and the girl scurried off again.
Flare attacked his food with a vengeance, while Philip had to listen to his stomach growling. The food wasn't the greatest, but in their current state, it seemed like it was fit for the royal palace. It wasn't long before the serving girl returned with another plate for Philip and then she was gone again.
They ate in silence and Flare finished his food well before Philip. Then looking around at the other patrons of the bar, he let out a loud belch.
Philip continued eating, but he shot a disapproving look in Flare's direction.
Flare smiled at Philip, “Just trying to fit in.”
Minutes later, Philip too was finished and he pushed the plate away. “So what's the plan? Are we staying with the Southern road?”
Flare glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to overhear before replying, “Yes, as far as it will take us.” He paused for a moment, “Or until we are forced to leave it.”
Philip leaned back in his chair, “You're awful depressing. You still expecting trouble on this little adventure.”
Flare shook his head, “No. But then again I thought that our visit to Fort Mul-Dune was going to be easy. Didn't you?” Philip only shrugged in reply, so Flare continued. “I cannot believe that the church agreed with this mission. I really get the feeling that they do not approve of me, or perhaps they are just threatened by me.”
Philip said not a word, just leaned back and watched Flare. It was at that moment that Atock joined them.
He took a chair, glancing as he did so at the two empty plates. “I don't suppose that you could have invited me to dinner, could you?”
Flare smiled at the big man, “I thought you would prefer to sleep.”
Atock shook his head, “I'm still sleepy, and I have the worst headache.” He waited a moment, but no one said anything so he added, “When do we leave?”
“First thing in the morning. We got out of Telur without being seen and that was the hard part. Now we have to put some distance between us and the city before someone recognizes us.”
Chapter 11
Heather led Aaron, Mikela, and Enton westward, and it took most of the first two days to reach Tyler's Junction. They had traveled hard, using every available moment of daylight to make the trip as quickly as possible. Aaron and Mikela had been pleasant enough and responded quickly to her orders, but Enton had been in a foul mood since the group had split up. He didn't say much, in fact he hadn't said more than two words since the split, and it was plain how he felt about their orders. He just rode in the rear of the group, keeping his thoughts to himself, but he might as well have been shouting his lack of respect for Heather. It wasn't long before Aaron's and Mikela's mood also started souring.
Heather wanted to lash out at Enton, but she suspected that would be the worst possible thing she could do. Instead, she continued to press on, praying and hoping for a way to fix this situation.
They rode into the outskirts of the small town at dusk of the second day. It was a small town with a large trade, and wouldn't have even been there if not for the intersection. For this was where two roads intersected, and merchants and caravans came through regularly. It was only natural that a town had sprung up where the two roads met. There were six inns in the town, and they all seemed to be doing a brisk business. Lights already shown from lanterns on the wrap-around porches that ran around the bottom two floors of each inn. In the light, people were moving on the porches, while others could be seen through the windows as the people moved inside the inns.
“Are we staying at an inn, tonight?” Mikela asked. There was clearly a note of hope in her voice.
Heather smiled, “Are you tired of sleeping on the ground already? We just begun our journey and we have a long way to go.”
“As you say, this will be a long journey, and we will be sleeping under the stars many nights. So I think we should take every chance we get to sleep in a bed.” Mikela answered.
Heather nodded, “As you say. Let's see if we can find a room.”
That turned out to be harder than she had first thought. The first two inns were full, but at the third inn, which was called the Merchant's Train, they managed to get two rooms. Mikela and Heather took the larger of the two, and Aaron and Enton had the room across the hall.
Mikela spent several minutes arranging her clothes in the wooden dresser, and then she was gone, off to get some supper. Heather took a little longer to get ready, as she lay on the bed for a few minutes to see how restful it was. But it wasn't long before she too grabbed a cloak and headed out the door. She stepped into the hallway, and came face to face with Enton, who was half in and half out of the room that he shared with Aaron. He paused, looking grimly at her, then he seemed as if he was about to move on.
Heather sensed that this might be her best opportunity to talk to Enton without Aaron or Mikela listening. “Enton, wait.” The big man stopped in the process of turning away from her, and looked back. She took a deep breath, knowing that she had to choose her words carefully. Say the wrong thing, and she would just make it worse
. “Listen, I know that you are not happy at following my commands, but I need your help. Your mood is bringing down the others. Could you please show a little respect? Maybe be a little friendly?”
Enton studied her for a moment, “Why? I will follow your orders as I have been commanded, but I don't have to like you.”
Heather felt anger rising in her, why did he have to make this so hard? “Enton, I'm not asking that you like me, I'm just asking that you respect Flare's orders and give me your full support.”
Enton shook his head, “I have done nothing against you and I have followed every order that you have given me.”
Heather raised an eyebrow, “Really? You don't think bringing down the morale of those under my command is doing anything against me? Aaron and Mikela started this journey smiling and talking, but now they hardly say anything and they frown more than they smile.” Heather took a step toward Enton, reaching out to touch his arm, but the big warrior moved back a step and she let her hand fall back to her side. “This is going to be a long enough journey as it is, please quit making it miserable for everyone.”
Enton stared at her for a moment, and then turned and walked away.
Heather stalked down the stairs, her blood boiling in her veins. That foolish thick headed lout! She wanted to tie him up in knots and leave him swinging in the wind.
At the bottom of the stairs, Heather turned left and entered the rather large common room. The inn was doing quite a nice business, but there were still some open seats. She found one and sat down next to an old man, who had the look of a wagon driver, he took one look at her and then turned away from her and ignored her. That suited her just fine, as she wasn't in any mood to talk anyway.
To her right, near the front of the inn, there was a slightly raised platform where a young girl sang while an older man played a flute. The tables were arranged around the stage, and most had patrons sitting at them. The far end of the common room had men playing various games of chance, dice and cards and such. The men playing the games looked rough, probably guards for the merchants and caravans. Several serving girls weaved in and out of the tables, looking harried as they carried food and refilled drinks.
Heather was beginning to think that the serving girls were ignoring her on purpose, but she finally managed to get one of them to notice her. She ordered stew instead of the roast pork, she liked meat, but she preferred it in combination with the vegetables, not just huge chunks of meat. The girl returned lightening quick, and besides the stew, there was a big piece of fresh baked bread and soft butter. Indulging herself, she also ordered ale. She didn't drink much, but occasionally she enjoyed one and sometimes two.
The young girl finished her tune and received some small clapping, although most of the patrons didn't seem to notice. She started on another tune, something about waiting on her young beau to return, and Heather stopped listening. After all, the girl was only marginally talented.
She ate while she listened to the men around her talking. Most of the men sitting near her worked the caravans. Some had come from the south and were now headed toward Telur. The rest were heading south and it was only natural that they talked about the journey ahead of them.
The old man sitting next to her asked, “Are the bandits still as bad as they were?”
A man in his middle years sitting several seats down from them answered, “Getting worse. On our way up here, we could see them in the brush along the roads. They were smart enough not to mess with the caravan, but they were bold enough that they didn't care that we saw them.” His cloak was travel stained and he had a weary look in his eyes.
“In Telur?” A wide eyed young man asked. “Doesn't the army keep the roads clear?”
“They're not in Telur; not yet anyway. But south of the border is a different story though. It gets pretty bad on the road south of Diminia.”
This was bad news to Heather's way of thinking. She had not counted on bandits in her plans, at least not this many of them. Worry surged in her as she tried to find an answer to this unforeseen problem.
“The bandits are attacking small groups of people now, whereas before they only attacked individuals.” The man in the travel stained cloak said. “Although they are smart enough to stay away from those groups that look like they can handle themselves, unless they look to be carrying valuables.”
“Bandits,” the wide eyed young man murmured to himself, although Heather couldn't tell if it was fear or awe. The young man's face brightened, and he looked up, “I sure hope that we don't see any. We're leaving at first light, headed south. I'm a guard on Master Elridge's caravan.”
The pleased expression on the young man's face showed clearly that this was his first trip. An idea suddenly occurred to her, and she jumped at it without thought, “Master Elridge?” She asked.
Three or four heads turned to look at her, as this was the first thing that she had said, except to the serving girl. Most dismissed her immediately, but the young man smiled widely at her. “Yes, that's right. It's my first trip with the caravan.”
Heather smiled at the young man, and in return his smile widened. “Where is the caravan headed?” She asked, her eyes concentrating on him.
“Jamellah. It's a port city, to the south and west of Diminia.” He talked fast, and the words almost ran together. “I hear that they don't like us, the people in Jamellah, I mean. They only tolerate us because they need our trade. We mainly trade grain and livestock, although they also want to buy weapons.” He leaned in as if he was telling her a secret, but he still spoke loud enough that the rest of the people at the table could easily hear. “Mynar is in a state of civil war and prices are constantly going up. Master Elridge thinks we'll make a fortune.”
Heather wondered what would happen if the people couldn't pay the high prices, but quickly forced that thought from her mind. She had a job to do, and she couldn't solve everyone's problems as it was. Cocking her head to one side, she asked, “Civil war?”
“Yeah,” he said, straightening as he spoke, “The king died without an heir and four lords have stepped forward to claim the throne. They have been fighting for years.”
Heather was sickened at the boy's enthusiasm. He seemed to be excited about seeing the war torn country. 'I bet he gets sick at the first sight of death,' she thought. “What's your name?”
The smile fell from the boy's face, “I'm sorry, I thought that I told you. My name is Jefflem from Devlon's Mill.”
Heather leaned close to Jefflem, and his smile came back even bigger than before, but it slipped at her question. “Well Jefflem, where can I find this Master Elridge?”
“Uh, I'm not sure where he is,” he leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “Why don't you come up to my room and I can tell you all about Mynar.”
Heather grinned, the young fool hadn't even been there, and he was trying to impress her with his stories. She wondered how many of them would be made up. Judging by the childish grin on his face, he actually thought that he had a chance with her. “No,” She said sweetly and was delighted to see the boy blink. “But I would be very interested in meeting this Master Elridge. I think that I could do business with him.”
“Business?” He asked in a confused manner, pulling away from her as he spoke. “What type of business?”
“Well, you see I'm traveling to the south, and I was hoping that I could arrange to travel with your caravan.”
Jefflem blinked at her for several moments and then smiled. “Well, perhaps he'll let you, and that would be great. I would love to have a beautiful young lady along for the trip.”
It took all of her willpower to keep from frowning at the boy, and for the first time she wondered if this was such a good idea after all.
For all Jefflem's claiming to not know where Master Elridge was, he seemed to find him awful quick. He led her upstairs to the third floor, to a large room at the end of the hall. He knocked once and stuck his head into the room, after a moment, he opened the door and entered.
<
br /> A little nervous about entering a strange man's room, Heather followed quickly so that she could keep a watch on Jefflem. Entering, Heather glanced quickly around the room; Master Elridge seemed to be doing all right to have such a comfortable room. A huge four poster bed was along the wall to her right, and a circular table with four chairs was to the left. Directly in front of them, was a man wearing a robe and sitting on a small couch. He was smoking a pipe as they entered, and the room had the smell of smoke and fruit. The man on the couch, she assumed it was Master Elridge, was in his middle years, with just a touch of grey in his sideburns. His rather large nose had been broken more than once, but that was quite common for those that had worked their entire lives with the wagon caravans.
The man glanced at Heather and then spoke to Jefflem, “Well, nephew, what have you brought to me? I hope that you haven't caused a problem.”
“It's nothing like that, Master Elridge,” Heather said quickly, before Jefflem could answer, the boy had conveniently forgot to mention that Master Elridge was his uncle. “I have a business proposition for you, and this young man simply helped me find you.”
The man on the couch smiled at her, “First, I insist that you call me Wylon, Master Elridge was my father. And second, it's completely impossible to conduct any business with one person sitting and the other standing.” He motioned to one of the chairs that sat around the circular table. “Please.”
Heather immediately found herself liking the man and graciously accepted his offer of the chair. She noticed that he didn't offer a chair to Jefflem.
He waited until she was sitting comfortably before speaking, “Now, what is it that I can help you with?”
Heather cleared her throat, not exactly sure how to start, her words came out kind of slow as first. “Well, I will be traveling south with several friends and I was hoping that we could ride along with your caravan.” Wylon seemed to hesitate at that, and she hurried on, “We have our own supplies, and wouldn't be a bother to you at all. In fact, if someone tried to rob the wagons, we would help defend them.”
Ossendar: Book Two of the Resoration Series Page 21