by Travis Kerr
"The man was so distracted by what my little Trick had done to him that he completely forgot about me for a second. It was so unprofessional I had to teach him a lesson for it. Normally I would just kill the man and be done with it, but instead I knocked him out and dragged him back to my room in the inn. I spent three hours extracting information out of him. Before it was finished I made him tell me who hired him, who trained him, everything."
"Did you kill him?"
"No," Malik answered, smiling at the memory. "Killing him would have done him a favor. He let himself get distracted in the middle of a hit, and against a professional at that. Instead of killing him I turned him over to his guild master, bound and gagged. I'm certain his teacher killed him, rather then allow him to continue to do him such dishonor. If I train you I'm sure you won't tarnish my reputation like that, right?"
"What! No, of course not!" Roland cried in shock and fright. The thought of doing something accidentally that could sign his death warrant was not something he wanted to even contemplate, nor was such a concern something he expected to have.
Malik laughed loudly. "Relax. I was only joking with you. I wouldn't give you any assignment you couldn't handle. Right now, that's not anything. Besides, I don't remember saying that you were ever going to be an assassin. I said you could stay with us, but I never said anything about what capacity you would be joining us in. At the current rate of your training, you are months if not years away from being ready to attempt an assassination, even a simple job. Don’t get me wrong, your training is going well. You could probably hold your own as well as most in a fair fight, which is great after only a month of training, but assassinations aren’t meant to be fair fights. There’s a lot more involved than just swordsmanship. It will be a while before you’re ready for something like that."
"What did you plan on having me do then?"
"I hadn't really thought about it much. Don't forget, you haven't decided yet whether you're even going to stay with us or not," Malik reminded him. "Last time we talked about it, you were more inclined to leave us once we were in the city. Have you changed your mind already?"
"No," Roland admitted. "Tara seemed to think that you have something in mind to get me to stay. She agreed that I should go with you to see your client; that somehow whatever will happen there will convince me to stay. I don't know if she's right.
“I have enjoyed the time I spent with you, so maybe I might decide to stay if you can think of something I might do to contribute to the group. Right now I feel like an outsider. I haven't really done anything to help out. Even Trick does more to contribute than I do, and he eats a lot less."
"It's not like we've been buying those supplies," Malik joked. "You've been gathering your own food as we go. You haven't been a burden to us, not in the slightest. True, you will need more training before I want you in a fight, but you're learning faster than you might realize. In fact, faster than nearly anyone I've ever seen. Don't think that just because you didn't last long against Tara in that sparring match yesterday that you're not learning. She's one of the best I know, with a weapon or without. It would take you years of training just to have a shot at matching her. I might suggest trying a heavier weapon. It seems better suited to your natural ability."
"Honestly I did better in that match than I thought I would have, though I'm sure she wasn't using even a fraction of her true skill. I think I even surprised her a little." He chose not to mention to Malik that he didn’t really remember much at all about the second half of that match.
It would be better to keep that to myself, he decided. At least until I understand it a little more.
"I watched that match, and you're right, she didn't even use a little of what she could really do. Still, I haven't shown you that much yet, and you managed to use the few things I've taught you in ways all your own. Given enough time, you could become really good. I've told you that before."
"You have, though I'm not sure whether or not to believe it. You might have some reason to lie to me, but if so I can't think of what it might be. You could have just been trying to keep my confidence up. What little I know about you leads me to believe that you have a reason for everything you do, and Tara has said pretty much the same thing. So while I don't know what those reasons might be, I believe that they exist at least."
Malik chuckled. "I've been hearing that a lot lately," he said. "Well, if you're right and I have a reason that I'm not talking about, I guess you'll just have to stick around a bit longer if you want to find it out. Don't worry, whatever secrets I'm keeping have nothing to do with whether or not your training is going well. I don't have any reasons to hide that from you. You won't learn anything if you don't know your own skill, and I want you to learn."
"Why should you care whether or not I learn how to fight?" Roland asked, coming back to that same question once more. "I just don't understand."
"You worry to much Roland, "Malik scolded. "If you want to learn, learn. If you don't want to learn more, then you can leave us once we are in the city. I'm sure with your strength and knowledge you'll have no trouble finding some kind of work. So it's up to you. Don't worry about my motivations. Learn what you can, if that's what you want to do. We like having you around. That's all the motivation you need to concern yourself with."
He's exactly right, Roland realized.
He had been worrying about why such strange and unexpected things had been happening to him, instead of just accepting them. If Malik has ulterior motives, they would not be revealed until the man was ready to talk about them, and not a moment before. Drom knew that if he ever wanted to learn them, he would just have to stay with the two until then. For all he know, Malik's entire reasoning was simply to let that question hang in the air. The question itself might be his way of trying to get Drom to stay.
He chuckled softly under his breath at the thought, barely audible even to himself as he made the sound.
"Have you come up with something you think?" Malik laughed.
Roland refused to be baited. He knew that Malik wasn't going to tell him, even if he was right.
If nothing else, my companion enjoys his mysteries. Anything he tells me will only lead me further astray.
It seemed to be the nature of the man.
He heard a noise coming from near the fire, and turned toward the source, already knowing what it was. Tara was stirring. She lifted her head, looking around the campfire.
"Fish?" she asked groggily.
"Already packed away," Malik answered before Roland had a chance to. "You can have it for dinner tonight. You ate too much last night. If you eat any more right now you'll make yourself sick. It would be better to wait."
"That should be my choice." Tara said testily. Roland could see what Malik had meant when he said that the woman would eat the entire thing in one sitting if he would let her. She didn't even seem to care if eating too much at once could make her sick.
"You know I'm only looking out for you," Malik chided. "I'm also looking out for myself, of course. The last time you ate too much you were impossible to be around for nearly a week. I would like to avoid that if we can."
She wordlessly shouldered her pack and stomped back toward the road. The two men grabbed their own packs and followed her. Trick still lay curled in the bough of a tree above them, though Roland knew that the little dragonling would catch up to them shortly. He never could be certain when the creature would leave to follow them, but if what Malik had told them the night before was true, Trick was most likely well aware of everything that was going on around him, even if he seemed to be completely asleep.
"Is she going to be alright?" Roland asked Malik under his breath. He noticed, however, that Tara's ears swiveled in his direction. The hearing of the feral woman continued to amaze him.
"She'll be fine," The assassin answered merrily. How the man continued to be so cheerful, considering he hadn't slept the night before if he was to be believed, was a mystery. Roland thought he was tellin
g the truth about staying awake and keeping watch during the night. It certainly fit in with what he knew of the man.
"She's just sulking right now," he continued. "Most likely, she's in a rush to get to the next camp site. The sooner we get there, the sooner she can eat the rest of the gar."
Tara proved to be an icy, silent companion the rest of the day, even more so than normal. Roland tried talking to her off and on as they walked, but she seemed to have no intention of talking to anyone. Why she seemed to be taking her annoyance out on him he couldn't guess.
It wasn't as if I had told her not to eat any more that morning, he thought. It was Malik who had done that.
Drom thought that the only time the feral woman was so testy was when she was hungry, but she certainly seems to be proving that wrong now.
In the late afternoon Roland heard a shrill whistle, not a single, solid note but several sounds in succession, from somewhere in the trees above them. He scanned the sky and treetops, but couldn't see anything that might have made the strange sound. Tara stopped ahead of them, waiting for them to catch up.
"There's someone ahead," Malik told him. "That was Trick warning us just now. From what I gather there is a small group up ahead. Five I think, judging by his call, though he's better at understanding me than I am at understanding him."
On this occasion Malik's interpretation of Trick's whistling call proved exactly right. Within a matter of a few minutes a group of five men could be seen in the distance, further down the road. The two men leading the way, dressed in light earth-tones, were clearly mercenaries of some sort. Roland could just make out the long, thick sabers strapped to their waists. Judging by the easy manner with which they carried themselves he was certain the men knew how to use the wicked blades.
Behind them walked a heavyset man leading a chestnut brown horse. The man wore bright blue trousers that billowed out loosely from underneath a deep red tunic. On his head he wore a black hat that bore no feather or adornment. The horse he lead by a thick tether was heavily burdened with several packs, all of which appeared to be full.
Behind the horse walked two more men, dressed similarly to the two that led the group. Roland couldn't tell if they were armed the same way.
They would be guards, he thought. Two in the front, and two in the back, to protect the cargo and its owner from every direction.
As the Roland and Malik reach Tara she pulled up the cloth that was around her neck, covering her face as she had done when Roland had first met her. He could understand why. A feral woman was rare enough that anyone might take notice of her. Far better for her to cover her features whenever possible.
"Do you think they could be dangerous?" he asked Malik. "Perhaps you should carry the sword. You're far better with it than I am."
"No, you should keep it for right now. You're our mercenary guard, just like those men are guarding that man there. They aren't looking to cause trouble, at least not likely. Those packs look heavy already. They are most likely heading toward one of the cities east of here.
“It's a good guess that this merchant doesn't want to advertise his cargo. Either he's transporting goods that are not allowed to be sold, which could be nearly anything that the mages don't agree with, or he wants to avoid paying transport taxes on whatever it is he has. Right now he's probably wondering the same sorts of things about us. He might think that we mean to rob him, since we wouldn't seem to be carrying much at the moment.
“However, if we were looking to rob him we wouldn't have stayed on the road. He'll know that we can fit a decent amount in our packs, more if he thinks they are magicked, and even if he doesn't he'll know that there's plenty of cargo that doesn't require much room, such as jewels or spices. Most likely he thinks we are no different than he is, which is good. That is our cover after all."
“Are you sure I won’t have any problems passing for a human?”
“Don’t worry. Even if they question that, not all Thane’s are human. Just let me do all the talking and you’ll be fine.”
A few minutes later the two groups met on the road. The guards leading the way for the colorful merchant eyed the three warily.
Obviously these men aren't going to take any chances with us.
Roland did his best to look intimidating, which he imagined that a proper guard would do in a situation like this. It certainly seemed to be how these men carried themselves.
"Any news from the city?" Malik asked the merchant in a deep accent, ignoring the guards entirely. Roland had completely forgotten about the accent his companion had used the first time he had seen him in this disguise. "We've been on the road for some time. It's always good to know what you're walking into."
"Nothing out of the ordinary," the merchant replied casually. "We left there only two days ago. Any news out of Lando? We're on our way there now with bundles of silk and cotton cloth."
"Sorry friend, but that's not where we're coming from. We're coming back from Port Dayton. We delivered several bundles of medicinal herbs that I collect in the swamps. We're heading to Port Tam now for the same thing. The road behind us is clear, or was when we passed through. You're the first traders we've seen along this road."
"You won't find many ahead of you either," the merchant told him. "Not too many people travel this road. You'll start running into people a few miles from the city, but there won't be much between here and there. The guards at the city gates have been a bit overly enthusiastic for the past couple of weeks. Bloodheart decided he needs more taxes, no doubt. His tax collectors are stationed at the gates, and his import and export taxes have gone up another three percent this month. You might want to find a different way in if you want to make any sort of a profit from your herbs. I don't know of any myself, being a respectable merchant, but I've heard there are ways in along the east wall."
"Since I'm also a respectable merchant I wouldn't really need to know that, however thank you for the information all the same. I'm sure that the mages are making enough from their taxes already after all. No need in helping them get richer, I say. If someday I decide that those mages are rich enough I might need to know of such routes, though undoubtedly the one you are talking about right now would be closed by then. Still, I'm sure that new ways into the city besides the gates open as quickly as the guards find ways to close them."
"Of course friend," the merchant said with a sly smile. "I'm Carn. Should you find yourself with some extra time in the city, head on over to the Gatortooth Inn. The bartender there is a friend of mine. Could be that he'll know of a few places where you can sell your herbs at a fair price; discreetly of course. As you said, there's no sense in making the mages richer if we don't have to. My friend has an ear to the ground, so you can count on him to give you a hand should you need it."
"I'm Malik, friend. I've met your bartender friend before. He's a good man from what I know, though I don't know him that well. Once in Lando you should try the Grinning Shark Pub. There's a trill that spends a lot of time there. I'm not sure if he can do much with cloth, but he has his hand in most things. He might find you a better price than your regular buyer. He goes by the name of Pax. Just mention me by name and he'll treat you fairly. I'm afraid I can't give you much information on what's going on there right now. I haven't been there in some time, but he was there last year when I went through. I see no reason why he wouldn’t still be there now."
"Thanks for the advice," the merchant, who had named himself Carn, replied. "Good luck on your endeavors. Hopefully we'll meet again sometime, and you can tell me how things worked out for you."
"It's always possible," Malik replied. "We seem to frequent the same places in the port cities, and not many others use this road. Good luck to you, Carn. Until we meet again."
"Until then Malik."
Carn turned and headed down the road where they had just left. His guards kept a close eye on Roland and his companions until they were nearly out of sight, far longer than they really had to. Malik waited until they were co
mpletely out of sight before turning back to the group.
"It looks like there might be some problems at the gate after all," he said to them. "We won't be going in through the gate like we planned. The guards will be going through everything, and I would prefer to avoid any sort of trouble, or scrutiny. We’re playing the part of smugglers after all, so we really do have items we need to keep hidden. We'll have to find another way in."
"The merchant said we should try the east wall," Roland suggested. "Do you think we can trust him?"
"He wasn't a merchant," Malik answered. "He was a smuggler, and not a very good one. He thought that we were smugglers too, which tells me everything I need to know. There are certain rules that govern how smugglers treat each other. Otherwise they would just kill each other all the time, and no one would profit from that. So I know that we can trust some of his information, but not all. I even know what information we can trust and what we can't."
"What do you mean?" Roland asked. "I listened to the entire conversation, and I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. It just sounded like two merchants exchanging pleasantries to me."
"Like I said, he wasn't a very good smuggler," Malik said cheerfully, obviously happy to share his unique knowledge. "It's several weeks journey to Lando, and yet he had only one horse laden with packs to carry what he claimed to be silks. No intelligent merchant would ever transport silk cloth on the back of a horse like that, especially on a long journey. They would use a covered wagon to protect the cloth from the salt in the horse’s sweat, and more importantly, from the ever unpredictable weather. Those bundles of his didn't even look like cloth, so his story wasn't close to believable."
"So we shouldn't go to the east wall then?"