It was one question too many, and Daric sighed. “I should eat. Rest a little. Maybe the answer will come when I can think clearly.”
Olam nodded. “Yes, you don’t look much better than Gialyn. A few hours’ rest will do you good.”
Eyeing the Salrians – he would deal with that problem later – Daric pulled his blanket from under his pack and lay down by Gialyn’s side. He was exhausted, he realised, and although he fought against sleep, it took less than a minute to succumb.
* * *
Elspeth and Grady made the ten-mile trek to Be’olyn in a little under four hours. Their frantic strides turned to a steady walk upon seeing the outskirts of town. The first sight was a row of dishevelled shacks north of the road – faded wooden huts, hunched together, seemingly no better than a poor farmer’s barn. They gave them a wide birth, casting a wary eye back and forth between the doorways. Little stirred among the broken buildings, save a flicker of movement as one of the residents stole a peep out of a glassless window before quickly slipping back into the shadows.
Be’olyn lay in the pit of a narrow valley. For size, it hardly warranted the title of town. Indeed, it would not be a town had there not been a courthouse there some thirty years ago. Four streets of poorly managed cobbles and packed yellow mud split off from the main road. None led anywhere but a dead end. The wooden awnings along the main street were ill-born, set clumsily against the skewed houses and shops. A broken veranda, strewn with crooked chairs, lay on the front of one. Grady suggested it could be an inn. He appeared half-hearted at the prospect of entering.
“It is usually the best place to start,” he said.
His words, meant to encourage, fell far short of the mark, he knew.
“If you say so, Grady,” Elspeth said as she looked up and down the main street. “Is there not a store or bakery… anything?”
“Maybe.” Grady looked around. “But there are no billboards or placards. This could be the store, for all I know.”
Elspeth shook her head and breathed a heavy sigh. She appeared less than enchanted at the thought of entering such a place. “As you say. We don’t have time to stand around guessing. Let’s get it over with and get out of here.”
They walked across the road and entered the building with the chairs out front.
The door swung closed when they stepped inside, leaving them suddenly in darkness. Grady felt Elspeth’s hand grabbing his arm. The smell of putrid beer and stale smoke rose from the sticky floor. A haze of what smelled like ammonia stung his eyes. The room lay silent, save the sound of a glass clattering as they entered. A small nest of candles lay in a nook in the far left corner. A line of bottles and goblets faintly reflected the candlelight.
“It is an inn,” Grady whispered. He moved close to Elspeth’s ear. “Stay by me. Do not leave my side.”
He strolled towards the light. His widening pupils revealing more with every step. Two men stood casually against the bar at the right; empty tables at the left; and in front, a large man was standing behind the bar, ironically cleaning a glass.
Grady ambled towards the barman, feeling his way with his feet. Two more men came into view. The first was old; he was standing alone, nursing a near-empty glass of something that looked like dirty dishwater. The other, about Grady’s age and build, was sitting in the candlelight in front of the bar. Grady stopped short and nodded to the seated man.
The man gave no response to him, but he looked Elspeth up and down, and then turned to the others with an approving grin.
Grady greeted the barman. “Excuse me, sir. Might I ask you a question?”
“Drink first, questions later,” the barman said, still with his eye fixed on the glass he was cleaning.
“Yes, of course,” Grady said. “Two spirits, please.”
“Root or vine?” the barman asked.
“Err… root, please?” Grady said, not entirely understanding the question.
The barman turned, picked up two glasses, splashed them to half-full with a clear liquid taken from a dusty bottle, and placed the glasses unceremoniously in front of Grady. “That’ll be two bits,” he said.
Grady nodded approval. “That is a good price for spirit.”
“Two bits of silver!”
Grady paused with his hand in his purse.
The barman – for the first time – looked directly at him, his arms spread wide with hands flat on the bar top.
Grady mumbled to himself while rummaging for two silver.
“I have it,” Elspeth said. She went to reach inside her jacket.
Grady put his foot on her toe and pushed. “No, daughter. I know you’re trying to help, but you must save what little you have.” He stared forcefully into Elspeth’s eyes.
Elspeth quietly folded her arms and nodded. “Of course… Father… Sorry.”
Grady put two silver krùn on the bar and thanked the barman.
“Now, about my question,” Grady said, sliding one of the glasses over to Elspeth. “We’re looking for medicines, kharoe ash and liet root; enough for one.”
The man by the bar – the one who had ogled Elspeth – laughed. “It doesn’t look to me like you need any medicine.” He grabbed Elspeth’s behind and squeezed.
Grady put his arm between them and pushed Elspeth back until he was standing in front of the rude man. He thrust his other hand inside his jacket – as though going for a weapon – and waited. He had played this game before. Thieves, for the most part, were opportunists; they would test him, see if he was easy or too much trouble to risk their health on what may or may not be in his pockets.
“That’s enough ‘a that!” the barman barked, thumping his fist down on the counter. “Olshtan, ye knows betta than to treat a man’s daughter like that in my establishment. Now go sit yeself out the way.” The barman waved him off into the corner.
Olshtan finished his drink and slammed the glass down on the bar. “I was leaving anyway.” He stood, smiled at Elspeth, and left.
Grady picked up his drink, put it to his lips, and flicked his head back, drinking it in one short gulp. He paused at the uppermost, and then slowly brought his gaze level with the barman.
The barman stood holding back a laugh. “Yep, ‘tis water,” he said with a howling cackle. He looked at Elspeth, then back to Grady, then back to Elspeth. Crowing wildly, he slammed his palm on the counter, apparently amused by his little joke.
He took back their glasses. “I suppose you’d be wontin’ a proper drink,” he said. “I mean, not like you ain’t paid’fa ten.” Still laughing, he brought down an old bottle from the top shelf and blew sharply at the label. Dust billowed about his face. “This’ll do, me reckons.” He filled their glasses and placed them respectfully on the counter, then folded his arms, waiting for them to take a sip, so it seemed.
Grady shrugged. Why not?
They both picked up their glass and took a sip.
The taste was wondrous, almost magical: deep, fruity, and not a bit bitter. He quickly drank the rest. A cool effervescence filled his throat and purged his mouth of the dusty road. For a moment, his mind seemed unburdened, and a wave of calm came over him.
“What is this?” Elspeth asked. Her expression said she approved of the drink, too.
“It’s distilled kalli. Bloody hard to find and even harder to brew. But I gotta friend wot brings it in from Bailryn. I usually keeps it for meself.”
“Well…” Grady sat down and looked approvingly at his empty glass. “That may well be worth two krùn.”
“Ah. Glad ye likes it, friend. D’ya wont anuva? I’ll do these for one silver, bein’ as ye such fine folk an’ all.” The barman readied the bottle.
“Oh no, we’d love to, but we have important business and time is utmost,” Grady said.
“As ye wish,” the barman said. “Na, wot is it ye wanted?”
“Medicine,” Elspeth said. “Well, herbs, I suppose, kharoe ash and liet root, enough for one?” She repeated Grady’s question. “Do you know
where we can find some, sir?”
“Well, m’lady, not ofen I get spoke to in such a manner by such a pretty yung fing as yeself!” The barman broke his gaze and looked up to the left. “Tell ye truth, I don’t reckon it eva ‘appened.” He mused for a moment, shifting his closed jaw to the left and right as though chewing on the thought. “Nope! Pretty sure yer the first,” he said. “Any’ow, I sed I cud ‘elp ye. Cross’t road, secund last befor’t corner. T’as a blue duar and a little stature in’t winda. Calloun is the chap yule be wontin’.”
“Sir, I thank you.” Elspeth bowed. She nodded at Grady, who was looking longingly at his empty glass.
“Oh… uh… yes… second last, before the corner.” He got up from his chair and followed Elspeth to the door.
“Don’t be a stranger now, me lass, will ya?” the barman called after them as Elspeth opened the door. She turned back and gave a short curtsy and a smile.
The two left the inn and started down the road towards the corner.
“He wasn’t so bad, was he? I was quite surprised, to be honest,” Elspeth said.
“Thieves,” Grady said. “Whether it is with a knife or with kindness, they’ll get you in the end.”
Elspeth shook her head. “Is everybody like that when they get old?” she asked.
Grady laughed. “What do you mean, ‘old’?”
“I mean, cynical and untrusting.”
“It’s called experience, Elspeth. Some might rightly call it wisdom.”
Grady stopped short and took Elspeth by the shoulder, pulling her to the side as he gazed down the road towards a narrow alleyway.
“What? What do you see?”
He was sure he saw someone lurking in the shadows, watching them, but the road was clear now. “Nothing, just an ‘old cynic’ jumping at shadows.” He gave Elspeth a wry grin as they continued along the road “Thought I saw somebody watching us. Likely as not, it was just some nosy townsfolk.”
Elspeth looked back, left, and right. “I think we’ve passed the shop,” she said, pointing at a grey building. “Didn’t he say blue door?”
“Hard to figure anything the man said. But yes, I think that’s it.”
On the face of it, the “store” had nothing on show to distinguish it from any other building; it had the same peeled paintwork, rotting veranda and spider-webbed windows as all the others. It might have been nice once, twenty years ago, before the thieves took over the town.
They crossed the creaking veranda and entered.
It was a long, narrow store, around seven paces by two. A shallow counter ran down the centre for the full length. The merchandise was stored behind the counter: hung on hooks, placed in baskets, or stacked on a shelf, all beyond the reach of thieving fingers. Again, it was dark, but not as dark as the bar was. Enough light bled in from the three dirty windows for Grady to see what was what. At the far end, a door led to what looked like a storeroom. Next to it, a large clock hung alone above the single chair and desk.
Calloun – the storekeeper, Grady thought it must be him – rose from the chair and walked over.
If ever a man had tried to dress above his station, Grady thought.
Calloun should have looked resplendent in his tasselled tunic with frilly white – off-white – cuffs draped beyond the sleeve. His high collar should have been stiff, in the style of the Bailryn Regents, but it had not seen a sniff of starch, never mind ironing. Worst of all was his preposterous hair. What would have been a long ponytail was swirled round and clipped down to hide an un-hideable bald patch. Despite this, he held the serious posture of vain confidence.
“Hello, my friends. Hello,” he said as though he were expecting them. He shuffled along the counter, slowly easing himself passed boxes and crates that lay packed under the shelves. On reaching Grady, he slapped the counter softly with a loosely clenched fist. “And what can I do for you two fine people on this glorious day?”
Grady gave the shallowest of bows. “We are looking for kharoe ash and liet root.”
“Ah… kharoe ash and liet root, aye?” Calloun said, scratching his chin. “Somebody been in the wars, have they?” He looked wide-eyed at Grady and then Elspeth, waiting for a reply, arms now folded.
“Yes. I suppose you could say that,” Grady said. “Now, do you have any, sir? Time is not on our side.”
“Poison arrow, was it? Or is it infected, like with some bad metal or some such?”
The storekeeper persisted with his questions, all the while stealing short glances to his left. What was he looking for? The hairs on the back of Grady’s neck began to rise – not all the way, but something was amiss. Grady shuffled to his right so he could take in the storekeeper, the entrance and the storeroom.
“Sir, please. Do you have the supplies?” Elspeth said, clearly impatient and altogether mindless of Grady’s suspicions.
She may be good with a bow and a fair cook, but if she’s not careful, that bloody impatient streak is going to get her killed.
“Begging your pardon, miss,” the storekeeper said. He raised his palms to Elspeth and lowered his eyes to the counter. “Only being polite, taking an interest.”
The storekeeper cleared his throat, then continued: “Now then, my partner usually deals with herb lore. I’m afraid I would not know what I’m looking at. I dare say what you seek goes by another name in these parts.” The storekeeper rubbed at his chin in a manner of contemplation. “Would you know it if you saw it?”
Elspeth hesitated. “Maybe, I’m not sure.”
“Why don’t you come back and have a look? See if you can’t figure it out.” The storekeeper gestured with an open hand towards the storeroom.
Grady hesitated. “And where is this… partner… of yours? Are they due back any time soon?”
Elspeth, who had already started for the door, looked over her shoulder and waved him on. “We haven’t got time to wait around, Grady. Come on.”
The storekeeper led them through the storeroom, along a narrow corridor and down a flight of stairs into the cellar. Barrels, boxes and crates lay all about, and a tall shelf-set full of pots and jars stood at the far end. “This is our herb store, sir, miss. Please feel free to take a look-see.”
Grady shook his head. “There are no labels?”
Elspeth took down one of the jars. “Yes there are; they’re on the lids. Here, look. Honestly, Grady, you give up too quickly.”
“Oh, good, so we only have to go through about a hundred or so.” Grady picked up a jar and turned to the storekeeper. “Is your partner likely to co—”
Grady felt the plank hit his head. He fell to his side, left arm instinctively outstretched. Frantically, he wheeled his arms, trying to steady himself. The storekeeper clipped him sharply across the fingers with an empty bottle. Grady fell to the floor. Another whack hit him, this time across his back. He moaned sharply and toppled forwards. Now on his knees, he crawled to the shelf in front of him and tried to climb to his feet. Olshtan, the lecherous man from the bar, kicked him on the back of his leg.
Well, at least Grady knew who the shopkeeper was waiting for. Fool, falling for a stupid trap like this!
Elspeth ran with jar in hand. She drew back and let swing towards Olshtan’s head. Olshtan backhanded her across the cheek, sending her headfirst into the post in the centre of the room. Elspeth was dazed, shaking; she tried to get to her feet. The storekeeper took up a broom and pinned her to the floor, the broom head on the back of the neck and his foot pushing into the small of her back.
“Get off me!” she cried, squirming frantically, but unable to lift her head or arms.
Elspeth’s move created the time Grady needed to get back on his feet. He turned and lunged at Olshtan. With his shoulder to the man’s gut, he picked Olshtan up off the floor and drove him into the crates stacked against the back wall. Olshtan lay stunned for a moment.
Grady picked up a bottle and viciously crashed it over the storekeeper’s head. The bottle shattered. The storekeeper turned. A
pitiful expression came upon him as he lifted his hand to his ear. Blood was pouring from a large gash beneath it. A wave of cold panic drew over Calloun’s face. The storekeeper stood motionless, staring at Grady through blank, hollow eyes. His lip trembled as he realised the truth of his predicament. Slowly, he lowered his hand and looked at it.
“Too much blood,” he whispered. “Too much blood!” he shouted.
Calloun stumbled over to the barrels underneath the stairway and slid sidelong onto the floor. His breath gurgled with the blood that filled his throat. With a cough, he spat out long globs of blood-strewn spittle. Gasping now, he turned to Elspeth and pleaded with an open hand for help.
But Elspeth could only watch.
Meanwhile, Olshtan was back on his feet. Winding a rope about Grady’s neck, he turned and twisted the line sharply over his shoulder. He put his hip to Grady’s back and lifted him off the ground, hanging him.
Grady’s feet flayed in the air and his arms spun wildly, looking for some purchase, some hold he could use to save himself. He grabbed the beam above their heads and lifted himself higher. Then, he back-heeled Olshtan in the kidney.
Olshtan fell to his knees, releasing Grady, who then fell on top of him. The two struggled on the ground for a moment. Grady broke free and stood for barely a second before the other man rushed at him. Olshtan pulled his knife, drew back hard to stab at Grady’s throat… and then stopped…
Olshtan dropped the blade and stepped back. A strangely peaceful expression came over him… then a smile… then a long gulp. He looked down at his left side, laughing as he did so. He reached under his arm and pulled the narrow blade from his heart. He handed it to Grady, hilt first, then fell to his knees… and to the floor… dead.
Grady looked down at the blade Olshtan had handed him. He knew it was Elspeth’s, but he could hardly believe it. A smile bloomed. He was about to thank her, but when he looked up, she was as pale as goat’s milk.
* * *
Elspeth sat on the floor, her back against the post. She pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at her quivering, bloodied hands. She rocked back and forth, whispering to herself. “I had to do it… I had to do it… I had to do it…” Tears flooded her eyes and her face shone red.
The Dragon Oracles: Omnibus Edition (The Eastern Kingdom Omnibus Book 1) Page 36