2 - The Ruby Knight

by The Ruby Knight [lit]

  The accounts of this part of the battle are very sketchy,

  Sparhawk,' the white-cloaked knight replied dubiously.

  He smiled at Ulath. 'Our Genidian brothers are a bit lax in

  keeping records.'

  'Writing in runes is tedious,' Ulath confessed. 'Particularly

  on stone. Sometimes we let those things slide for a

  generation or so.'

  'I think we need to find a vilage or a town of some sort,

  Sparhawk,' Kurik said.

  'Oh?'

  'We've got a lot of questions, and we aren't going to get

  the answers unless we ask somebody.'

  'Kurik, the battle was five hundred years ago,

  Sparhawk reminded him. 'We're not going to find

  anybody alive who saw what happened.'

  'Of course not, but sometimes local people - particularly

  commoners - keep track of an area's traditions, and

  landmarks have names. The name of a mountain or a

  stream could be just the clue we need.'

  'It's worth a try, Sparhawk,' Sephrenia said seriously.

  'We're not getting anywhere here.'

  "It's very slim, Sephrenia.'

  'What other options do we have?'

  'We'll keep going north then, I suppose.'

  'And probably past all the excavations,' she added. 'if

  the ground's been ploughed over, it's a fairly sure sign

  that Bhelliom's not there.'

  'That's true, I suppose. All right, we'll go on north, and

  if something promising turns up, Tynian can raise

  another ghost.'

  Ulath looked dubious at that. "I think we'll have to be

  careful there,' he said. 'just the effort of raising those twO

  almost put him on his back.'

  'I'll be all right,' Tynian protested weakly.

  'Of course you will - at least you would be if we had

  time to let you rest in bed for several days.'

  They helped Tynian into his saddle, pulled his blue

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  cape around him and rode north in the continuing

  drizzle.

  The city of Randera stood on the east shore of the lake.

  It was' surrounded by high walls, and there were grim

  watch-towers at each corner.

  'Well?' Kalten said, looking speculatively at the bleak

  Lamork city.

  "waste of time,' Kurik grunted. He pointed at a large

  mound of dirt slowly melting down in the rain. 'We're

  still coming across digging. We need to go farther

  north.'

  Sparhawk looked critically at Tynian. Some of the

  colour had returned to the Alcione Knight's face, and he

  seemed to be slowly recovering. Sparhawk nudged

  Faran into a canter and led his friends through the dreary

  landscape.

  It was mid-afternoon by the time they passed the last

  signs of excavations. 'There's some kind of a vilage

  down there by the lake, Sir Sparhawk,' Berit said,

  pointing.

  "It's probably not a bad place to start,' Sparhawk

  agreed. 'Let's see if we can find an inn down there. I

  think it's time for' us to have a hot meal, get in out of the

  rain and dry out a bit anyway.'

  'And a tavern perhaps,' Kalten added. 'People in

  taverns usually like to talk, and there are always a few old

  men around who pride themselves on how well they

  know local history.'

  They rode on down to the shore of the lake and into the

  village. The houses were uniformly run-down, and the

  cobbled streets were in disrepair. At the lower end of

  town 'a series of docks protruded out into the lake, and

  there were nets hanging on poles along the shore. The

  smell of long-dead fish permeated the air in the narrow

  streets. A suspicious-eyed villager directed them to the

  only inn the village had, a very old, sprawling stone

  building with a slate roof.

  Sparhawk dismounted in the innyard and went inside.

  A fat man with a bright red face and raggedly cut hair was

  rolling a beer barrel across the floor towards a wide door

  near the back. 'Have you any empty rooms, neighbour?'

  Sparhawk asked him.

  'The whole loft is empty, My Lord,' the fat man replied

  respectfully, 'but are you sure you want to stop here? My

  accommodations are good enough for ordinary travellers,

  but they're hardly suitable for the gentry.'

  'I'm sure they'd be better than sleeping under a hedge

  on a rainy night.'

  'That's surely true, My Lord, and I'll be happy to have

  guests. I don't get many visitors at this time of year. That

  tap-room back there is about the only thing that keeps me

  in business.'

  'Are there any people in there at the moment?'

  'A half-dozen or so, My Lord. Business picks up when

  the fishermen come in off the lake.'

  'There are ten of us,' Sparhawk told him, 'so we'll need

  quite a few rooms. Do you have someone who can see to

  our horses?'

  'My son takes care of the stables, Sir Knight.'

  'Warn him to be careful of the big roan. The horse is

  playful, and he's very free with his teeth.'

  'I'll mention it to my son.'

  'I'll get my friends then, and we'll go upstairs and have

  a look at your loft. Oh, inCidentally, do you happen to

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  have a bath-tub? My friends and I have been out in the

  weather, and we're a little rusty-smelling.'

  'There's a bath-house out back, My Lord. Nobody uses

  it very often, though.'

  'All right. Have some of your people start heating

  water, and I'll be right back.' He turned and went back

  outside into the rain.

  The rooms, though a bit dusty from lack of use, were

  surprisingly comfortable-looking. The beds were clean

  and seemed bug-free, 'and there was a large commonroom

  at one end of the loft.

  'Very nice, actually,' Sephrenia said, looking around.

  'There's a bath-house as well,' Sparhawk told her.

  'Oh, that's just lovely,' she sighed happily.

  'We'll let you use it first.'

  'No, dear one. I don't like to be rushed when I bathe.

  You gentlemen go ahead.' She sniffed at them critically.

  'Don't be afraid to use soap,' she added, ' - lots and lots

  of soap - and wash your hair as well.'

  'After we bathe, I think we'll want to change into plain

  tunics,' Sparhawk advised the others. 'We want to ask

  'these people questions, and armours just a bit intimidating.'

  The five knights pulled off their armour, took up their

  tunics and trooped with Kurik, Berit and Talen down the

  back stairs in the padded and rust-splotched undergarments

  they wore beneath their steel. They bathed in

  large, barrel-like tubs,. and emerged feeling refreshed

  and cleansed.

  This is the first time I've been warm for a week, ' Kalten

  said. "I think I'm ready to visit that tap-room now.'

  Talen was pressed into service to carry their padded

  undergarments back upstairs, and he was a little sullen

  about it.

  'Don't make faces,' Kurik told him. "I wasn't going to

&
nbsp; let you go into the tap-room anyway. I owe that much to

  your mother. Tell Sephrenia that she and Flute can have

  the bath-house now. Come back down with her and

  guard the door to make sure they're not interupted.'

  'But I'm hungry.'

  Kurik put his hand threateningly on his belt.

  'All right, all right, don't get excited.' The boy hurried

  on up the stairs.

  The tap-room was a bit smoky, and the floor was

  covered with sawdust and silvery fish-scales. The five

  plain-clad knights, along with Kurik and Berit entered

  unobtrusively and seated themselves at a vacant corner

  table.

  'We'll have beer,' Kalten called to the serving-wench,

  'lots of beer.'

  'Don't overdo it,' Sparhawk muttered. 'You're heavy,

  and we don't want to have to carry you back upstairs.'

  'Never fear, my friend,' Kalten replied expansively. "I

  spent a full ten years here in Lamorkand and never once

  got fuddled. The beer here is weak and watery stuff.'

  The serving-girl was a tyPical Lamork woman - large-hipped,

  blonde, busty and none too bright. She wore a

  peasant blouse, cut very low, and a heavy red skirt. Her

  wooden shoes clattered across the floor, and she had an

  inane giggle. She brought them large, copper-bound

  wooden tankards of foamy beer. 'Don't go just yet, lass,'

  Kalten said to her. He lifted his tankard and drained it

  without once taking it from his lips. 'This one seems to

  have gone empty on me. Be a good girl and fill it again.'

  He patted her familiarly on the bottom. She giggled and

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  hurried away with his tankard.

  'is he always like this?' Tynian asked Sparhawk.

  'Every chance he gets.'

  'As I was saying before we came in,' Kalten said loudly

  enough to be heard in most parts of the room, 'I'll wager a

  silver half-crown that the battle never got this far north.'

  'And I'll wager two that it did,' Tynian replied, picking

  up the ruse immediately.

  Bevier looked puzzled for an instant, and then his eyes

  showed that he understood. "It shouldn't be too hard to

  find out,' he said, looking around. "I'm sure that someone

  here would know.'

  Ulath pushed back his bench and stood up. He

  thumped his huge fist on the table for attention. 'Gentlemen,'

  he said loudly to the other men in the tap-room.

  'My two friends here have been arguing for the last four

  hours, and they've finally got to the point of putting

  money down on the issue. Frankly, I'm getting a little

  tired of listening to them. Maybe some of you can settle

  the matter and give my ears a rest. There was a battle here

  five hundred years ago or so.' He pointed at Kalten. 'This

  one with the beer-foam on his chin says that the fighting

  didn't get this far north. The other one with the round

  face says that it did. Which one is right?'

  There was a long silence, and then an old man with

  pink cheeks and wispy white hair shambled across the

  room to their table. He was shabbily dressed, and his

  head wobbled on his neck. "I b'leeve I kin settle yer

  dispute, good masters,' he said in a squeaky voice. 'My

  old gaffer, he used to tell me stories about that there

  battle ye was talkin' about.'

  'Bring this good fellow a tankard, dearie,' Kalten said

  familiarly to the serving-girl.

  'Kalten,' Kurik said disgustedly, 'keep your hand off

  her bottom.'

  "Just being friendly, that's all.'

  'is that what you call it?'

  The serving-girl blushed rosily and went back for more

  beer, rolling her eyes invitingly at Kalten.

  "I think you've just made a friend,' Ulath said drily to

  the blond Pandion, 'but try not to take advantage of it

  here in public.' He looked at the old man with the wobbly

  neck. 'Sit down, old fellow,' he invited.

  'Why, thankee, good master. I read by the look of 'ee

  that ye be from far north Thalesia.' He sat down shakily

  on the bench.

  'You read well, old man,' Ulath said. 'What did your

  gaffer tell you about that ancient battle?'

  "Well,' the wobbly fellow said, scratching at his

  stubbled cheek, 'as I recall it, he says to me, he says - '

  He paused as the busty serving girl slid a tankard of beer

  to him. 'Why, thankee, Nima,' he said.

  The girl smiled, sidling up to Kalten. 'How's yours?'

  she asked, leaning against him.

  Kalten flushed slightly. 'Ah - just fine, dearie,' he

  faltered. Oddly, her directness seemed to take him off

  guard.

  'You will let me know if you want anything, won't

  you?' she encouraged. 'Anything at all. I'm here to please,

  you know.'

  'At the moment - no,' Kalten told her. 'Maybe later.'

  Tynian and ulath exchanged a long look, and then

  they both grinned.

  'You northen knights look at the world differently

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  than we do,' Bevier said, looking slightly embarrassed.

  'You want some lessons?' Ulath asked him.

  Bevier suddenly blushed.

  'He's a good boy.' ulath smiled broadly to the others,

  patting Bevier on the shoulder. we just have to keep him

  out of Arcium for a while until we have time to corrupt

  him. Bevier, you're my dear brother, but you're awfully

  stiff and formal. Try to relax a bit.'

  'Am I so very rigid?' Bevier asked, looking a bit

  shame-faced.

  'We'll fix it for you,' ulath assured him

  Sparhawk looked across the table at the toothlessly

  grinning old Lamork. 'Can you settle this stupid argument

  for us, grandfather? did the battle really come this

  far north?'

  'Why, yes indeed it did, young master,' the old man

  mumbled, ' - and even further, if the truth be known.

  My old gaffer, he tole me as there was fightin' an' killin'

  as far north as up into Pelosia. Ysee, the hull army of the

  Thalesians, they come slippin' around the upper end of

  the lake an' fell on tham Zemochs from behind. Only

  thing was that there was a hull lot more of them there

  Zemochs than there was Thalesians. Well, sir, the way I

  understand it was that the Zemochs got over their

  surprise an' come roarin' back up this way, kilin' most

  everthin' in sight. Folks hereabouts hid in their cellars

  while that was goin' on, let me tell you.' He paused to

  take a long drink from his tankard. 'Well, sir,' he

  continued, 'the battle seemed t' be more or less over, the

  Zemochs havin' won an' all, but then a hull bunch of

  them Thalesian lads, what had probably had to wait

  around for boats up there in the notth country, come

  chargin' in an' done some real awful things to them there

  Zemochs.' He glanced at Ulath. 'Yer people are a real

  bad-tempered sort, if y' don't mind my sayin' so, friend.'

  "I think it has to do with the climate,' Ulath agreed.

  The old man l
ooked mournfully into his tankard.

  'Could ye maybe see yer way clear to do this again?' he

  asked hopefully.

  'Of course, grandfather,' Sparhawk said. 'See to it,

  Kalten.'

  'Why me?'

  'Because you're on better speaking terms with the

  barmaid than I am. Go on with your story, grandfather.'

  'Well, sir, I been told there was this awful battle that

  went on about a couple leagues or so north of here. Them

  Thalesian fellers was real unhappy about what had

  happened to their friends an' kinfolk down to the south

  end of the lake, an' they went at the Zemochs with axes

  an' such. They's graves up there as has got a thousand or

  more in 'em - an' they hain't all human, I'm told. The

  Zemochs wasn't none too particular about who they took

  up with, or so the story goes. Ye kin see the graves up

  there in the fields - ~big heaps of dirt all growed over with

  grass an' bushes an' such like. Local farmers been turnin'

  up bones an old swords an' spears an' axe-heads with

  their ploughs fer rugh onto five hunnerd years now.'

  'Did your gaffer by any chance tell you who led the

  Thalesians?' Ulath asked carefully. "I had some kin in that

  battle, and we could never find out what happened to

  them. Do you think the leader might possibly have been

  the King of Thalesia?'

  'Never heard one way or t'other,' the old Lamork

  admitted. "Course, the folks hereabouts wasn't none too

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  anxious to get right down there in the middle of the killin'

  an' all. Common folk don't have no business gettin'

  mixed up in that sort of thing.'

  'He wouldn't have been too hard to recognize,' Ulath

  said. 'The old legends in Thalesia say that he was near to

  seven feet tall, and that his crown had a big blue jewel on

  top of it.'

  'Never heard of nobody matchin' that description - but

  like I said, the common folk was stayin' real far back from

  the fightin'.'

  'Do you think there might be somebody else around

  here who's perhaps heard other stories about the battle?'

  Bevier asked in a neutral tone.

  "It's possible, I s'pose,' the old fellow said dubiously,

  'but my old gaffer, he was one of the best story-tellers in

  these here parts. He got hisself runned over by a wagon

  when he was fifty or so, an' it broke up his back real cruel.

  He used to set hisself on a bench out there on the porch of

  this very inn, him an' his cronies. They'd swap the old