Ward nodded. Mages were bad, you avoided them whenever possible. But a healer? They were fine, plenty of those around, and this was obviously one of those rare ones who could actually heal.
“Let me buy you a drink,” Ward offered, hand moving to the purse still secured to his body.
“A kind offer, but I’m after something else. However, if you’re willing to stand here and talk for a little, you will be very helpful.”
Oh, Ward thought, the man must be lonely. “We can talk better over a drink?”
“No, let me explain. This man,” and Marlen gestured to the unconscious thief, “is unlikely to be working alone. He’ll have people hanging back in case of guards or soldiers arriving. An ambush if needed. Soon they’ll realise something happened to, well, not their friend, but the man who was getting their money, and they’ll come to look. Not for the man’s sake, but to find where their money is.”
Ward couldn’t work out why Marlen was still smiling at this. “Then we’re … some sort of trap?”
“It’s turned out that way.”
“But … that’s bad?”
“Not necessarily.”
Running footsteps could now be heard, and two men appeared out of the darkness, also holding clubs. “They’ve done for him,” one shouted and both charged. Ward would later edit from his memory the moment he screamed, and he’d never truly reconcile the actions of Marlen, who deflected the blow of the first attacker expertly with a staff, and used the man’s momentum to bring him close, and then … well, it seemed to Ward that Marlen just touched the man once, before he fell to the ground in a twitching mass. The second attacker was little more than a boy, and even Ward could have beaten this attack and disabled the man, although it was Marlen again, touching him with the stick, making the body collapse.
Marlen smiled, and made a little flourish with his staff.
“What was that for?” Ward asked.
“Nothing, it just feels right when you have such a success. A fight is still a fight, even if you’ve been totally dominant.”
“Oh, right.”
Marlen now held a hand and waved it.
“What was that for?” Ward asked.
“A signal.”
“A signal? It’s dark. No one can see.”
“Some animals can penetrate the darkness. Interesting eyes.”
From the opposite direction to the thieves, where Marlen had originally come from, two men appeared, and they swiftly jogged over and hoisted two of the thieves over their shoulders. Marlen picked the leftover up.
“Wait, wait,” Ward said, realising, “you’re not here to save me, you’re, er, collecting these men?”
“Indeed we are. But should you make it to your home safely, which you now can, I think we should both conclude that I did, indeed, save you. Yes?”
“Are you bounty hunters?” And why did that make Marlen twitch slightly?
“Just view us as benefactors. For a food salesman you ask a lot of questions. I’ve met customs officials who ask less.” And, Ward added silently to himself, probably should have asked an awful lot more.
“You’re not collecting me?”
It so happened Marlen was feeling, if not generous, then in a giving mood. A life-giving mood. “When I say run along now,” Marlen replied, “I don’t mean it patronisingly, I mean literally run off now.”
Ward didn’t need telling again.
*****
Something had been bothering Alia about her new allies, and as they rode she positioned her horse to take a good look at the problem. She didn’t want to stare, or be obviously rude, but she did have to keep an eye out and … maybe a different approach would work. She looked around at her group fanned out on the road, and up ahead to where Zedek was riding. Perhaps she could just ride up and ask him. Horse nudged forward, she was soon alongside their advance guard who was scanning the treeline left and right.
“Hello Alia,” he said, not really looking at her.
“Hello Zedek. Can I ask you a question?”
Now he turned his bony face, and she could see him raise an eyebrow. “We are working together, if I can be of any help in easing our co-operation.”
“Okay, good. You’ve got a funny shaped head.”
“I see you escaped the misfortune of an imperial finishing school.” Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. “Sorry, was that too much? I can never grasp the subtleties of telling jokes.”
“Sorry, no, I mean the profile of your head, it doesn’t look right.”
“Ah, yes. There is a reason for that. I could tell you. But as we have a long ride, perhaps you’d like the victory of working it out.”
Alia nodded, and they rode with her looking at him and he looking at the trees. Then she got it. “Your ears! You don’t have any ears on your profile!”
“Mostly correct. I have these,” and Zedek used his left hand to pull his long hair back, revealing the lower portion of an ear and a ragged scar where the upper portion should have stuck out.
“Oooh, that’s fierce.”
“Thank you. I think.”
“Who did that to you?”
Zedek took his eyes off the road and turned to look at Alia. “I was captured by some … people. They liked torture, and they did this to me. Would have done more had I not escaped.”
Alia was impressed, not by the wound, but something else. “You seem very calm explaining it.”
“How so?”
“You don’t sound thirsting for revenge.”
“I suspect they are long dead.”
“And you don’t sound angry. Someone did that to me, I’d hate them.”
Zedek tilted his head and made a conclusion. “There are people you do hate, who tried to hurt you.”
“Yes. You’re paying attention.”
“I come from an … extended family who hated, greatly and strongly, and I have resolved to be different. I target my hate more carefully, on people I feel merit it. I have seen far worse crimes than people cutting my ears off. Like this healer.”
“But you don’t hate this healer?”
“I don’t, but I suspect my friend does. And that’s enough for us all to act like we do.”
“Did this happen in the army, had you been captured?”
Now, what was the cover story again? Oh yes, that was it: “Indeed.”
“You use a bow a lot, were you out the front, scouting?”
“Not scouting in the sense of looking for opposing force. Logistics isn’t just getting things from your rear to the front, it can be securing resources ahead of you, ready for when the army arrives. With no food arriving, you have to direct your troops to where it can be found.” Which, he mused, Daeholf would agree was all true, even if him doing it had been a total lie.
“Were you an archer before logistics?”
“No, nothing like that. My parents started me with a bow when I was young. I grew up with them. In all honesty, I’m still not very good with a sword. You use a bow well.”
“Thank you, I’m trying to master at range and close up, but I could give you some tips on fighting with knives?”
“That would be appreciated.”
Alia let the phrase run through her mind while she worked out what was wrong with it. Then she realised. “You’re being serious!”
“Yes, er, appreciated, it means welcome, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not that, it’s just not many chaps would take lessons from a g– a woman.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, women can kill as easily as men.”
Now that seemed like some women she should meet. But she had another question.
“Can I have a look at your bow?”
“Do you mind if I look at yours?” But Zedek was smiling, almost laughing.
“What?” she asked.
“My current bow is very normal. My parents’ gift of an ornate weapon which would make generals jealous is back home, safely tucked away. I fear mine will disappoint while I have something
very impressive out of reach.”
“Ah.”
“But why not, I’m interested in yours.” They exchanged bows, and Zedek took a close look. “Nice little self bow.”
“Self bow?”
“Made from one piece of wood.”
“Oh.”
“Decent draw weight for a hunting bow,” Zedek said, testing it. “I suspect you’re walking the line quite carefully there versus a war bow.”
“A little.”
“Nicely balanced, good knocks with a bit of a recurve. All in all, you’ve picked a very good weapon here, Alia.”
“Thank you, but Jonas got it for me.”
“Then he has an excellent taste in weapons. A good thing he’s teaching it.”
Alia had finished looking. “I’m not sure this really counts as, what did you say, very normal?”
“It’s just a laminated version of yours.”
“Not really. I’ve seen laminated bows before. With yours, though, I’m not quite sure what all of the layers are.”
“Horn, eastern, ah, ash and sinew.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Well,” Zedek said, smiling, “you won’t need Jonas when you come to your next bow.”
*****
He was drinking in a bar near the dockside. He was too young but that didn’t matter since he was big for his age — tall and broad shouldered. Too big in fact, he reflected sadly, looking down at the big roll of fat around his middle.
“Do you mind if I join you?” said a well-dressed man of medium height, with a neatly groomed beard, smoking a long-stemmed pipe.
Lump was surprised. He hadn’t noticed the man in the bar previously. Maybe he was a little distracted by focussing on the main door and the man had come down the stairs quietly. He frowned but put it aside, trying to stay alert to potential trouble from all directions. He realised the man was still standing at his table, politely waiting for an answer.
“Um, no, not at all,” Lump said.
The man sat down at a stool across from him, dropped a bag under the table and held out his hand. “Marlen,” he said.
“Um, Jonas,” Lump said, deciding to use his real name rather than the one he had been dubbed with due to his size and line of work.
“Um Jonas?” Marlen said with a smile.
“No, just Jonas,” Jonas said. “I wasn’t expecting company so you caught me by surprise.”
“So it would seem. Forgive me for saying it, but aren’t you a little young to be drinking in a bar by yourself at this time of day?”
Jonas frowned again, slightly taken aback. “Appearances can be deceptive,” he said after a moment.
“Oh indeed, indeed,” Marlen said, smiling.
“So what brings you to this bar?” Jonas said.
“I’m waiting for someone but I have a little time to kill and I was hoping there would be someone to help me pass the time. You?”
“Ah, I’m waiting for someone too,” Jonas said.
Marlen looked as if he was going to say something about the apparent contradiction against Jonas’s earlier statement but he remained silent.
“Well, someone who will be here later on,” Jonas added.
“Ah. Well, let’s get a drink then,” Marlen said and waved to the barman. After attracting his attention, he said politely, “Can we have a jug of wine and two cups please?”
The barman gave him the ‘if you think I’m bringing it over you’ve got another thing coming’ kind of surly look.
Marlen took out and flicked a coin in his direction. There was a flash of gold. The barman caught the coin, looked at it then suddenly became all smiles. “Of course, sir,” he said. He hurriedly grabbed a jug and two cups and brought them over.
“Will there be anything else?” he asked.
“Perhaps later, thank you,” Marlen said. The barman walked away.
“It’s not wise to flash gold in a place like this,” Jonas said quietly.
Marlen looked around at the other patrons. There were two seamen playing dice quietly to themselves — maybe they’d finished early or perhaps they’d snuck off whilst their merchant master wasn’t looking. He paid them little attention.
“Perhaps,” Marlen said, “but I’m not worried at the moment.”
“It’s not who’s here now that’s the problem,” Jonas said, slightly surprised that he had been dismissed as a threat since they didn’t yet know each other and Marlen had no way of knowing what he did for a living. Either Marlen was very confident in his abilities or he was a very trusting sort and the latter was somewhat unlikely.
“Are you expecting trouble?” Marlen said.
“No,” Jonas said, a little too quickly, then noticed his slip.
Marlen let that slide. Jonas was grateful.
“So what was your plan whilst you waited?” Marlen said. “Not just drinking, surely?”
“No plan,” said Jonas. “Just drink and watch life go by.”
“Well perhaps we can make our waits more entertaining. I don’t suppose you play chess?” Marlen said.
Jonas started. He had an uneasy feeling that something was slightly off. “Um, yes, I do actually,” he said.
Marlen smiled and reached down into his bag below the table and pulled out a battered looking box with a checkered pattern on the top and the bottom. He opened the box, emptied the pieces out and laid the box down such that the top and bottom formed the board.
“That’s seen some use,” Jonas said.
“It’s old. Man I acquired it from told me it was General Lath’s, though I’m not sure I believe him.”
Jonas picked up one of the pieces and studied it. Expensive. His soon-to-be-old boss would have very much liked to get his hands on a set like this. Though maybe he wouldn’t know what it was worth.
“I’ll take black if you don’t mind,” Marlen said.
“No, of course,” Jonas said, shrugging. He wasn’t much good at chess and normally chose black, often opting for a strategy of copying his opponent where possible, which, whilst rarely successful, did often prolong games. Taking white would be an interesting change.
“General Lath’s you say,” Jonas said as Marlen laid the pieces out carefully.
“So I was told. It’s certainly old enough and Lath did like to play chess between battles.”
“Hah. The man was an arse. Taking credit for his captain’s achievements.” Jonas regretted his outburst immediately.
Marlen studied him for a moment.
“You’re remarkably well-informed on history from over a century ago for someone so … young.”
“When it was cold, sometimes we used to break into the library to keep warm,” Jonas said, making his opening move with a pawn.
“We?” Marlen said, also opening with a pawn.
“Just me and a few friends.” Jonas moved a second pawn.
“Ah. Do carry on,” Marlen said, moving a knight.
“Nothing more to tell. Read a few books. How about you? Where does your interest in Lath come from?” Jonas said, uncomfortable and turning the conversation. This was not lost on Marlen.
“Well you could say I’m in the antiquities business. People employ me to find old things for them.”
“Some money in that evidently,” Jonas said.
“Some,” Marlen said with a grin. “Your move,” he said.
Jonas picked up a knight but felt a sudden stabbing pain in his index finger, as if pricked by a needle. He dropped the piece with a curse. He looked at the piece on its side on the board. He couldn’t see any sharp edges. Had it just bitten him? That was impossible. He watched blood bead on his finger and start to drip.
“What’s wrong?” Marlen asked, concerned.
“Cut my finger on that piece,” Jonas said, eyes shifting between his finger and the chess piece. The feeling of wrongness was growing.
Marlen picked the piece up and examined it. “Maybe a bit of an edge on it,” he said before rubbing it against the table. “There.” He put it
back down. “Let me see your finger,” he said.
“Why?”
“I also dabble a bit in healing, I’ve got a salve that will stop the bleeding.”
“Um, okay.”
Marlen pulled out a small jar from his bag and smeared something over the end of Jonas’s finger, which began tingling. When it stopped, so had the bleeding.
“There. Your move,” Marlen said, indicating the board.
Jonas picked up the knight again gingerly. Nothing happened and he felt foolish.
As the game progressed, it was clear to Jonas that Marlen was by far the better player, but also that he was going easy on him. Time passed and the inn filled slowly as the workers finished for the day.
There was a commotion by the door and a group of young men barged into the inn.
Jonas tensed.
“Are they here for you or me?” Marlen said calmly without looking up from the game.
“Me. Thanks for the game,”Jonas said, standing up. He looked at the gang. “Maybe you should be leaving,” he added.
Marlen tipped the set quickly into his bag and moved to stand by Jonas’s side. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said, watching as the gang started to fan out.
Jonas frowned and turned to face the gang members by the door.
“Lump,” said a short rat-faced man with a nasty smile. “There you are.”
“Here I am,” Jonas said, putting a hand on the table and watching the gang move.
“I think it’s time you came with us,” the little man said. He noticed the well-to-do man stood calmly by Jonas and smiled. “I see you’ve made a friend. I think he can come too.”
Jonas smiled, picked the table up easily and in one swift movement launched it at his boss. Men dived out of the way and there was a tremendous crash as it hit the wall where a couple of them had been a moment earlier.
“Here we go,” Jonas said to Marlen as he twisted the leg off a bar stool. Marlen, for his part, picked up his cane.
The inn had turned to chaos. The gang tried to barge their way to Jonas and Marlen and became embroiled in a full-on brawl.
Three men came at Jonas and Marlen. The first received the stool leg to the top of his head. He didn’t swing hard, he wasn’t trying to kill anyone. The man still collapsed to the floor senseless.
Dark Healer (An Empire Falls Book 1) Page 22