“There was never any offence to take,” replied Tarim, gripping the guard's outstretched hand.
“Before I leave you councillors I just thought you should know that after the Tinkers came in, councillor Frilzae came up to me and made an almighty fuss about not letting any bands of people in to the village. After I told him I had already let the tinkers in he yelled till he was purple and then stormed off. Make of it what you will. I am no councillor, but he is certainly no guardsman.” Melgar and Alander both laughed out loud.
“I would have given anything to have seen that,” Melgar said as he wiped a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye.
Uye shrugged his shoulders. “It don't make no sense to me it really don't.” With that comment, the old guard left to join the growing throng of people in the main room.
Tarim set his drink down, turning to check on Zya. She was feeling slightly mellowed by the whole experience. The drink combined with the relaxed surroundings had really eased the tension that had been affecting her during the day. Tarim looked into her eyes for a second then nodded. “It's time we got back to the caravan. I must thank you again for your help today. It is a comforting thought that some would stick to the old law in the face of such adversity. I am sure things will turn out for the best.”
“Things are already better, at least for the now,” answered Melgar. “I cannot say how well they will sit when O'Bellah returns, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it. Thank you for joining us today, you have proven yourselves worthy of the code of the travellers of which you follow. If only more around us had such scruples we might be able to sort our problems.”
Tarim flashed a grin at the two men. “I am sure this will not be the end of it councillors. We will meet again soon I am sure.”
Gripping his hand Melgar pursed his lips and nodded. “I am sure of it, Tarim S'Vedai. If for no other reason than I have leaking pots that need mending. You will have a busy but profitable time while you are here, my friend. Pay my sincerest regards to your mistress.”
“You can be sure I will.”
Zya got up, the mellow feeling evaporating as she walked from the alcove into the main room. Sensing several pairs of eyes fixed on her she strode confidently alongside her father, almost challenging the eyes to follow her. Nobody did more than stare at her though, as the menace that emanated from her father was more than enough to keep the owners away. Unconscious movement drew her hand towards the dagger she had been given, but when she realised this she drew her hand away. Zya could talk her way out of most situations and violence with a weapon she did not know how to use could probably be more dangerous for her.
They walked outside the inn and around the side gate, finding it slightly ajar. Pushing it gently, Tarim walked in to the courtyard that housed the stables. True to his word, Ju was still hard at work brushing down Red. He beamed a grin as they walked up to him. Zya could see at a glance that her horse had been well cared for. His coat shone like gloss in the evening. She could tell by his breathing that he was calm and had been fed and watered. Ju was as good a keeper of horses as her father. Tarim flicked a small silver coin in the air, which Ju promptly caught. He stood stock-still and gazed at the coin. “No one has ever given me something like this before! Sir, whatever you want done I can do.” The young boy stood as proud and tall as someone of his stature could possibly do.
“Consider it pay for services in advance. We are staying around here for a short while and may need your help with the horses. I see you have an affinity for them.
Ju patted Red on the neck, getting a nudge and a quiet nicker for his efforts. “I love them,” he replied. “They are not like people. They trust you for who you are because they do not know about lies. I look after them and they trust me.”
Tarim patted Ju on the head. “You're a caring lad, Ju, and one wise beyond his years. You could indeed have worse friends than horses.” Ju scampered back and led out Truestep, named by Tarim when he was but a foal for his uncanny ability to pick out the smoothest track. Tarim mounted Truestep and waited for Zya to mount Red. “We are staying in the paddock near the bridge, Ju. Feel free to come visit any time. Your Landlord seems to have some horses that need seeing to, so you might convince him to let you bring them.”
“I will try, sir. If he allows me time from my chores I would love to help you.” Tarim nodded to the young boy, made all the smaller for his size against the stallions. With a wave from Tarim and a smile from Zya, Ju watched them ride out of the courtyard and into the dimming light of evening. He slipped the coin into a small pocket he kept his favourite things in. In truth, these consisted of a piece of yarn, a dried insect and a small round stone he found in the road near the bridge. To a small boy these things were treasure. Now, however, he had some real treasure to go with them. He patted his pocket and went into the stable to tend to the other horses. As he started brushing them down he thought how grand it must be to travel everywhere on a big wagon and see all the different places.
Father and daughter rode their respective horses across the now empty square and onto a road much wider than the others they had encountered. The same types of houses had been built along the street, but the main difference was the hasty gardening that seemed to have taken place. Several of the exquisite displays now had holes in them with mud strewn around and onto the dried track that was supposed to be a road. “Looks like people have taken your advice to heart father.” Zya observed. “Hopefully no more children will be lost to the temptation of picking a pretty berry.” Tarim didn't answer her and when she looked over at him he seemed lost in thought. “What is it, Father?”
Tarim continued gazing in to space. “Was it me or did they show a distinct lack of emotion when the deaths of children were mentioned? Children are sacred, especially in a place such as this as they are the only guaranteed future of the village. Yet those councillors acted as if this was a common occurrence.”
“I think you second guessed them, Father. I got the feeling that they were trying to hide so much of the pain that your question didn't affect them. They were sombre enough when they left, but in many of them I could see hurt in their eyes. If Melgar and Alander meant harm, they were masterful at not showing it. I think they helped us as much as they could.”
Tarim laid a hand upon his daughters' shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are more trusting than I, Zya. Just beware that things may not be as they seem.”
Zya smiled. “I know. Always take things at face value.” If this satisfied her father, he did not show it or any other emotion. They rode down the muddy road for a short while until it broadened into a wider grassy area. Beyond was another example of the crude wall that the villagers liked to believe would protect them. Beyond that was a bridge leading to a clearing and then the forest behind. In the grassy area the wagons were pulled up in the semi circular fashion Zya had come to know so well. The horses had been fenced off by Mavra, who was still finishing the task. She bent from tying a rope to wave at them and call a greeting. The pair waved back and climbed down from their horses. Leaving the horses to Zya, Tarim went in search of Venla. Zya wrapped the reins of both loosely around each fist and strolled over to Mavra. As Zya approached, Mavra stood and stretched, raising her arms behind her as her honey blonde hair cascaded from her head as she tipped it back with the stretch. “Ah it always feels good to be at a journeys end does it not, Zya?”
Zya smiled and unhitched the rope, noting that Mavra could have tied them a bit tighter; she decided to check them again later. “It is different, I'll give it that. I assume everything was trouble free as you came through the village.”
Mavra smiled a smile that Zya assumed would have all the young men fawning over her within the week. “It was fantastic! Everybody came out to wave and welcome us. And there were many boys there, many fine looking boys.”
Preventing Mavra from continuing her litany on the male population of the village, Zya rapidly came up with another question. “What about the attackers? Have they bee
n taken?”
“Yes, now that you mention it, they have. Some guards came and took them from Jaden and Cahal as we crossed the market square. I assume that is the market square? It looked so big; there must be so many traders with so many things to sell.” Mavra's rambling came to a halt as Zya stared at her whilst undoing Truestep's bridle. “It's funny you should mention them though. As soon as Erilee noticed that they had been taken from the back of the wagon, she went very quiet. When we stopped she went into mother's room in the wagon and refused to come out or even speak to anyone but me. She has been there ever since. I really must go and see if she is all right.” Mavra hurried away, leaving Zya to finish seeing to the horses. Zya knew that they had been too long with the so-called bandits. She did not know why, but she hoped she would never find out.
Chapter Four
As good as his word was, Belyn could not help but try to surpass himself. Though they thought they would be in the cellar for a few hours while things were readied, Belyn had them on a sturdy cart filled with the Gods alone knew what within the hour. Although by far from the eldest of their order, Keldron was nevertheless middle-aged, according to the normal ages of man. He had been prepared to argue to the hilt about why he would not ride his rump sore on some bony nag, but when Belyn suggested stealth was better than speed, at least for now, Keldron's mood lightened incredibly. They had donned some unremarkable cloaks and, with Raoul at the reins, had quietly wound their way through the bustling crowds of the merchants' sector. The crowds parted for the wagon and tied horses, but swallowed the gap as soon as they had passed, making it a lot less obvious for anyone to follow their trail.
Though they made steady progress that day, the city of Eskenberg was massive, especially its outskirts. So it was not until dark that the three men found themselves alone with the creaking sounds of the wagon for company. In the dark with only the light of their lamps to guide them, Raoul directed the quiet procession into a grove of trees off to the left of the road they had been following. Once they were stopped, Belyn jumped down from the wagon in search of some firewood. Raoul climbed into the back of the wagon where Keldron had fallen asleep earlier. The rhythmic rumbling that emanated from beneath a pile of cloth indicated that his friend was still asleep. The man seemed to be able to doze off at will, something Raoul could never do. The two of them were chalk and cheese in that respect; Keldron sleeping at will and Raoul testing the limits of the definition of insomnia. Raoul grinned as a thought came to his mind. He brought out his marble focus stone and concentrated, sending a small jolt through Keldron. It had the desired effect, making Keldron jump right out of deep sleep to instant awareness.
“We are here my friend,” Raoul announced solemnly.
Keldron stared out of the front of the wagon into the gloom. “Umm, where exactly are we Raoul? The forest?”
“No, my friend, we are but one step of the way towards it. However, we are out of the city boundaries at least, and all of us need to be awake and alert for now. Belyn is off gathering firewood and I wondered if you could find time in your busy schedule to help me check the horses. I mean, I would hate for us to have to drag this load of whatever Belyn has on here by ourselves.”
Grimacing at the gentle rebuke from his friend, Keldron let it lie and climbed out of the wagon to help Raoul. The horses in truth needed little attention aside from a bag of oats and a drink. The grove was so dense round the outside that a piece of rope across the way they came in was all that was needed to prevent the horses leaving. It was a relatively warm night so they let the horses wander to graze. Turning back to the wagon from brushing one of the draft horses, Raoul and Keldron were presented with the image of their companion staggering with a huge pile of deadwood. Belyn dropped it in the centre of the clearing and reorganised it into two piles. Grumbling about volunteering for wood duty never again he brought out a stone that was as dark as the night. He went calm, and Keldron felt the surge as the focus converted energy in to flame. A deep red flame danced amongst the dried wood, showing the stone to be of a similar colour.
“Another example of how the rocks of the earth can be used to our advantage my friends.” Belyn said as he tossed the stone to Keldron. The stone was a russet marble with veins of thinly spread white. It was the same egg shape as his own. Keldron had been used to Belyn's experimenting with a myriad of shapes so the sudden use of a normal shaped focus stone caught him off guard.
Noticing his friend's confusion, Belyn added “Remember, my brother, that just because the original shape isn't best for some types of stone, it doesn't mean that it cannot be used that way.”
“A pretty flame, to say the least – and useful too. Did you know that the flames would take on the aspect of the focus or was it pure chance?” Raoul moved around the fire as he said this, the flickering flames adding a menacing red tint to his visage.
“As with most of the recent discoveries my friend, it was chance. You should have seen the flame I was able to make with a crystal of olive stone. I think though that red is a lot subtler than bright green. Our purpose is to stay as unobtrusive as possible for at least a couple of week's worth of travel. The red flame works even better to hide us than a normal flame would, and its heat is greater.”
Raoul looked at Keldron and then at Belyn. “I assume we have something to cook on your superheated fire, Bel? Would you mind telling us what exactly you have in this wagon?” Belyn chuckled to himself; a private joke his friends did not follow. He walked to the back of the wagon, Raoul and Keldron following him. Belyn dropped the back of the wagon, exposing bolts of cheap cloth. “You loaded this wagon with cloth?” exclaimed Raoul. “What use in the grand scheme of things is drab brown cloth, Bel?”
Keldron knew Belyn had not shown them everything yet. His fiery red-headed friend would usually pounce upon such a statement with a heated retort, but this time, Belyn simply grinned.
“What?” said Raoul.
“My friend you are denser than a rock. Look again and this time look carefully.” Raoul peered at the cloth, as did Keldron. It hit Keldron about the same time as Raoul. The cloth, plain and drab to all outward appearances had something about it, as if someone with magic had once been there and left. As one, both men turned towards Belyn.
“It is called a web of displacement. Well, it is when anybody accepts that these focus stones can be made of something other than yellow marble. It convinces the ordinary person that what is there is unremarkable and not worth looking at. To someone trained as us, it looks like someone has once focussed nearby.”
“That is exactly what I can see,” agreed Keldron, who was astounded by the uses of magic Belyn seemed to be casually creating.
“Okay, now watch as I unravel the web.” Belyn concentrated for a moment and it was as if a fog seemed to lift from in front of their eyes. A series of boxes and crates appeared where bundles of cloth had been. There were a couple of bundles on top of the boxes, which Raoul immediately went to, fingering the cloth.
“Let me guess Bel, you can't complete the focus without a material element. Belyn nodded, his red hair and beard seeming on fire in the ruddy light. “I tried this focus without anything and it just doesn't work. It just repeats the vision of anything you try and hide. I suppose nothing is perfect, but then it is just an illusion, well an illusion with a twist at least.”
Keldron opened one of the boxes. It was packed with small, glass, liquid-filled jars. His eyes lit up. “Bel, is this what I think it is?”
Belyn grinned merrily. “Verily I bring unto thee a sample of mine own drink my friends. Feast thine eyes upon the drink known as Orit! You didn't think I would let us travel without that, would you my brothers? You might have well chopped an arm off. The other boxes contain useful vittles. We have plenty of food, clothes for every type of weather, and enough focus stones for me to teach the both of you most of what I know. I have found that my research is fairly limited with just me doing the studying, so I thought that seeing as we were on the road together for
however long it lasts, we might study together. I can cast a focus over this wagon similar to the focus in the guild, except this one will just shield anybody from our activities. But enough of that friends, let us enjoy good food and drink whilst we still have it.” Belyn opened a box containing a series of stones, and handed one to each of his two colleagues.
Raoul handled his gingerly, testing the weight of it. “Bel it has almost no weight. What sort of rock has no weight?”
“One from a volcano,” answered his friend in the red glow.
“So you expect us to eat volcanic rocks and never go hungry again?” Keldron laughed.
“My friend, for all of your education you are either remarkably dense or a tremendous actor.” He hefted his own stone in his favourite focus position, between thumb and two fingers. It was, as Raoul had stated, remarkably light for its size and milky white. The texture of its surface was most unusual; what appeared to have been bubbles had been smoothed and polished until a milky pearlescence gave the rock a glow that turned pink in the light of Belyn's fire.
“So how do we use this?”
Belyn seated himself with his back against the spokes of one of the wagon wheels. “It is the usual method of focussing. But instead of just you, the stone and the environment you must seek out that which you desire. You know the storeroom we were in before we left? Well I have people who ask no questions stocking that room as they would a larder. It is a lower temperature so food will store better in there. Using this stone you will be able to concentrate on a place and grab something from it. It has to be some place you have been though the location does not need to be exact. This is an area spell so it will locate the exact place you are looking for as long as you are sure where you are looking. One unsure thought and you could be headed off the gods only know where and never possibly come back. That is the only drawback of this spell, the risk involved.”
“What do you mean, the risk involved?” asked Keldron. He had been used to using focuses of varying degrees with his original stone, but these new stones made him feel a great deal more cautious.
The Focus Stone (The Tome of Law Book 1) Page 12