by Dante King
“Slave work, I guess?”
She nodded grimly.
We walked down a wide, paved road toward the center of the town. On either side were a mixture of huts and tents, all crammed together and crowded up against the walls of larger buildings.
The tents were made of bones and skins. Some of the skins had horns or spines sticking out from them. The colors were often bright, some a scarlet or yellow like a canary bird. Their garish quality reminded me of what one might see on poisonous reptiles or spiders. Others were bright blue or purple, the sort of color birds might use to attract a mate. Others were black, the deep sort of black that sucked in all light, and repelled my eyes, as if the tent were a hole in the earth, leading to some other realm.
The bones supporting the tents were long femurs, sharp tusks, sometimes huge vertebrae. The huts were made of bone as well. Long straight bones from forearms or legs had been planed to fit together smoothly, joined by what I assumed was mortar, but could well be some sort of product mixed from bone marrow, or monster intestines. Hairy, scaly, or spiney hides were stretched over these frames to make the walls and roofs.
The buildings were like nothing I’d ever seen, however. The variety of furs, skins, and bones I saw in use here was enough to make me think we’d seen only a tiny fraction of the monsters in the world. Over the last two days, we’d only seen three types of monsters: bears, boars, and a lightning drake. Judging by what we saw here, there must have been hundreds of different types of monsters in the surrounding mountains.
“In years gone by,” Veronica said, “the numbers of monsters around Brightwater were much lower.”
“More monsters have appeared of late?” Amelia asked, and I was reminded of the quest she’d received from the Librarians.
“Yes,” Veronica replied, “but it isn’t just the strange happenings around the mines that have caused their numbers to increase recently. Some time ago, this land was inhabited by brave folk who could handle the monster population quite well.”
“But that’s changed in recent years?”
“Sadly so. Back when there were fewer monsters, it was easier to kill even higher-level ones. But the folk have also changed. They have begun to rely more on hunting in the mines, rather than in the wild, and they became less tough and hardy.”
I looked around. The few people I could see looked normal enough, though they were dressed in rough skins and furs rather than linens or cured leather. Nobody was looking at us; I guessed that outlandish-looking travelers were not uncommon in this trading town.
Veronica continued. “That’s not to say the current inhabitants lack courage; they just spend too much time searching for it at the bottom of a barrel. They’ve been forced to hire some mercenaries to cull their numbers. Mercenaries like me.”
“You never did explain how a Mage like yourself came to be a mercenary. . .” Amelia said.
Come to think of it, I was also interested in Veronica’s answer.
But instead of answering the question, Veronica turned and started to make her way further down the road. I looked at Amelia and shrugged, and together we followed Veronica.
The road we were walking on opened out onto a wide square in the middle of the town. The square was surrounded in a ring by taller and wider houses than those we’d passed previously. These appeared to be shops, with living quarters on the upper floors. They had signs on the fronts, advertising a smithy here, a jeweler there, and various other types of crafters and merchants. To our right was a tall building with a high wooden steeple rising from it.
Directly across from us was a building twice as high as the others, with a sign displaying a handful of coins.
“I assume that building is for trading?” I asked.
“That’s right,” said Veronica. “That’s where I’ll be taking my Beast Cores later to trade in for currency. It’s also where all the records of major transactions in the town are kept. It’s the closest thing they have to any kind of royal oversight in this town. They submit nominal tribute and taxes to the royal officials whenever one of them bothers to show up here, and they keep a suite of official rooms for when Arcanists from Astros decide to visit.”
“I wonder why the royal officials don’t come more often,” Amelia said. “I would think this town has a lot of valuable trade taking place in it.”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Veronica said. “Perhaps the Arcanists have some sort of deal to keep the royal officials away. Arcanists don’t tend to enjoy having much oversight, and they are definitely more frequent visitors to Brightwater than royal officials. In fact, look there!” She pointed upward, to where a red and yellow flag fluttered above one of the high turrets of the trading house.
“It’s the flag of the Arcanists,” said Amelia. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” replied Veronica, “that there’s an Arcanist visiting Brightwater at the moment and occupying the official quarters. The Arcanist must have arrived while I was out of town, hunting monsters.”
I wasn’t all that interested in royal officials or taxes, so I allowed the conversation that followed between the women to fade to the back of my mind. My focus was now on entering the trading house to sell my Beast Core.
“I’m going to head into the trading house now,” I said after I’d noticed a gap in their conversation.
“Not so fast,” Veronica said, and I pulled up short.
“What is it? We need coin for lodgings and food. And I could do with some new clothing.”
“I can lend you the coin for a meal and a night’s rest in the Sticks and Stones Tavern.”
“I’d rather not be in your debt,” I said as I began to make my way toward the trading house again.
Veronica put her hand on my chest this time. Despite the fact that she pushed me, I could barely feel the pressure on my chest.
I laughed. “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that to stop me going anywhere.”
“Is that a challenge?” she asked.
“Of course not,” I said with another chuckle. “Would you just explain why you’re so intent on me not going to the trading house to sell my Core?”
“I’d very much like to know as well,” Amelia said.
Veronica sighed. “You’re not a real mage, so you don’t have the documentation.”
“Surely Mages aren’t the only ones who turn in Beast Cores?” Amelia asked.
Veronica wore a conceited smile, obviously glad to be giving the explanations for once. “No, Mages aren’t the only ones who hunt and sell Cores. But William, you don’t exactly look like a seasoned soldier. Certainly not someone who can kill monsters single-handedly. Yes, you’re very handsome, strapping even, but you aren’t even carrying a weapon beside that ornate dagger and a rusty shortsword. And you’ve got tattoos on your arms; only thieves and vagabonds wear tattoos in these parts. The vendor wouldn’t believe you had earned the Core yourself, and he’d likely report you as a thief.”
“Right,” I said with a sigh. “Then I’ll take you up on your offer. But I’ll be paying you back as soon as I find a way to sell this Core.”
“You can give it to me,” she said nonchalantly. “Or don’t you trust me?”
I stared at the Mage for a few seconds. “I’ll see how I feel in the morning.”
I turned away from Veronica, leaving her gaping.
“You don’t trust her?” Amelia whispered to me.
“I trust her,” I replied. “I just want her to know she can’t order me around.”
Veronica returned, and she seemed a little perturbed at the way I’d spoken with her. I didn’t want her to think she could tell me what to do, but I also didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. I decided to ask her some questions, to show some interest in Brightwater and her knowledge of it.
“So, Veronica, are all those buildings all filled with crafters and merchants?” I gestured at the other, larger buildings. “The square doesn’t look that busy right now.”
There were a
few people walking in and out of some of the structures, but if this was the major center of trade for the mines in the mountains, I would have expected a bit more traffic.
“There doesn’t tend to be that much trade all at once in this place,” Veronica replied. Her previous annoyance had vanished now that she had the opportunity to display her knowledge. She waved her hand over the square as she spoke, as if she were showing us her own property. “The trade here is more moderate, but steady. A lot of the merchants are out in the mountains at the moment.”
“What do they do there?” I asked. “Trade slaves?”
“Well, some of them do,” Veronica said, clenching her fists. “The fact is, slavers aren’t all that popular here either. Some of the population are former slaves. Most of the people living in the town are here because they value their freedom and want to get away from the heavy regulation of the big cities near the capital.”
“They sound similar to us,” I remarked. “So what else do the merchants do in the mountains?” At this point, I was now genuinely interested in the answers and not just feigning for Veronica’s benefit.
“They collect loot from the monsters killed in the mines,” Veronica said. “In exchange, they bring various supplies to the soldiers who fight up there. That’s the primary economic purpose of the mines, bringing the valuable items harvested from monsters down to the lowlands.”
“It makes sense that there would be more useful things in monsters than just their Cores,” I said. “Almost makes me wish I had skinned those bears and other monsters before we’d left them.”
“It’s not worth the trouble,” Veronica said. “Besides, there are teams of scavengers who operate out of Brightwater. If we give them the location of our battle at the ruined tower, they’ll go and collect anything useful from the corpses, and we’ll get a portion of their sale once they’re done. Whole caravans of furs, monster bones, Beast Cores, and other such things are transported out to the cities near Astros.”
“It seems quite odd that Brightwater isn’t more heavily watched and taxed then,” Amelia said. “The Arcanists must really have some influence if they can keep this place under wraps.”
Even though I wasn’t all that interested in taxes or politics, Amelia’s observation made me curious about what this might have to do with the other strange events we’d experienced the last couple of days. I hoped Jacques might have some answers. I definitely had a lot of questions.
As we stood looking around the town square, there was a bustle from the trading house. A flight of wooden steps led up to broad double doors. The doors stood open, and striding down the steps was a tall, thin, imposing man with a high bald dome of a head and dark, piercing eyes. He walked stiffly, standing very straight, and he held up the luxuriant folds of his bright red robes with his left hand. In his right, he carried a tall staff of testing wood with a huge, glinting red gem fixed into the top. His dark eyebrows seemed clenched in a permanent frown over his brow.
In an orderly group behind him on the steps, his bodyguard of elite melee specialists stood three abreast and three deep. They looked very similar to the kinds of soldiers I’d seen in Aranor, wearing high-cheeked helmets, and matching dark red tabards over ringmail hauberks, and armed with tall pikes and shortswords. Their sergeant stood ahead of the soldiers, a step behind and to the left of the brightly dressed man.
“That must be the Arcanist,” Amelia breathed to me, and Veronica nodded.
I hung back slightly and folded my arms, concealing my tattoos. Amelia noticed and did the same. These men didn’t look friendly, and we didn’t want to attract more attention than necessary.
There was no chance of that, however. The Arcanist stood for a moment at the bottom of the steps, scanning the square with his piercing eyes. Almost immediately, his gaze found us. He said a word to the sergeant by his side, and the whole group marched smartly across the square and stopped in front of us.
Soldiers’ boots smacking paving stones in lockstep was an intimidating sound. I drew a deep breath, kept my arms crossed, and resisted the temptation to grab a fireball and blast them all to hell. That wouldn’t end well.
To my relief, the red-clad Arcanist ignored Amelia and I completely, though the sergeant took a good look at us, and at our shortswords. The Arcanist looked Veronica up and down, taking in her broad-bladed shortsword with its magical runes, along with her enchanted skirt and ring.
“You,” he said in a harsh voice, “who are you, and what are you doing in Brightwater?”
Veronica put her hands on her hips and snorted derisively at the man. “Who are you? What right do you have to go about demanding to know honest peoples’ business?”
The man’s thin chest puffed up with anger and self-importance, and his eyes narrowed. He pointed at his own chest. “I am Arcanist Maximillian, Taxation Regent of the King’s Court at Astros. And you, I know your kind. You wear expensive enchanted robes and flout your runic gear, but you are no true Arcanist. You’ve taken the magical training offered by the Arcanists in Astros and used it for your own ends. You’re a… mercenary.” He turned his head and spat, as if the word tasted foul to his refined senses.
“It’s no crime to hire out one’s services in the Kingdom,” Veronica retorted. “You’re right, I’m no Arcanist, though I was trained in Astros. That’s not a crime either. I’m in Brightwater on business of my own. I don’t care who you are, or what pompous title you take to yourself, you’ve no right to be harassing folks out here.”
“Pompous title?” the man huffed, looking more pompous than ever. “You dare to insult me, wench? Show me your stamps of authorization, you and your… servants.” His gaze flickered over Amelia and I disdainfully.
“I’m not showing you anything,” said Veronica firmly.
Veronica and the Arcanist stood glaring at each other, eyeball to eyeball, for a long moment. Our confrontation had gathered a bit of a crowd. I thought the Arcanist seemed about to escalate the situation, and I hoped very much that Veronica knew what she was doing. I didn’t think we’d fare well if we had to take on ten elite soldiers and an Arcanist. Judging by his position, I assumed he was probably a powerful mage, and the honor guard who traveled with such a man would be combat hardened veterans.
Suddenly, he leaned forward and hissed in Veronica’s face through clenched teeth. “You’ll regret this insolence, whore. I’ll not forget your face in a hurry.”
Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and marched off without a backward glance. His soldiers followed in smart formation behind him. It took everything I had not to strike the man down for speaking to Veronica like that. She wasn’t my woman, but I considered her a friend.
I let out a pent-up breath, and heard Amelia do the same beside me. “What an asshole,” I muttered, and Amelia laughed.
“That was not normal,” Veronica said as the crowd began to disperse. “I’ve never seen anyone do that in Brightwater before.”
“We might have to watch our backs,” I said. “He seems like he’s going to be trouble.”
Veronica nodded reluctantly. “He knows he doesn’t have much power here, not really. I guess I caught his attention because of my enchanted equipment. There are mercenaries about, and sometimes even mercenary Mages, but few of them are Astros-trained, like I am.”
“We’ll just stay out of his way,” Amelia said before something else caught her attention. “What’s that building on the right of the square? The steeple on top looks like what I’ve seen on many religious buildings in Astros. Is it a temple?”
She was pointing at another building, this one a strange mixture of wooden paneling and monster parts. It was longer and lower than the rest of the buildings in the square. Down a lane at one side, I could make out what looked like the entrance to a stable yard. As Amelia had pointed out, it had a high, thin steeple with a dull brass bell hanging at the top.
Veronica laughed. “A temple? You might say that.”
Amelia looked at her, puzzled
. “What’s the joke? In whose honor was it built?”
“In honor of what, not whom,” Veronica said. “The local population here had no deities that they worshipped when Brightwater was established. There still aren’t any universally worshipped deities. But every town they knew had a temple at its heart. So they dedicated this temple to what they considered most precious.”
“Which was?” I asked.
“Beer,” Veronica said. “That’s the Sticks and Stones Tavern.”
Amelia looked slightly shocked. I laughed.
“Well,” I said, “I’m getting pretty hungry, and we need to find a place to sleep before the sun goes down. Shall we head to the tavern and see about getting a couple of rooms for the night? I would kill for a beer.”
Veronica beamed. “If there’s one thing they excel at in Brightwater, it’s beer. Come on, let’s head inside.”
Chapter Twelve
We were all hungry and thirsty, and ready for some refreshment, and visiting the inn sounded like a very good idea to me. Perhaps here I could get news of my old friend Jacques.
I pushed the inn door open and took a deep breath of the welcoming smells of beer and roasting meat. Cutlery rattled on plates, and the friendly murmur of conversation rolled out to greet us. I stepped inside, followed by Amelia and Veronica.
The cramped but cozy interior of the tavern was warmed by a roaring hearth which dominated the left wall. Fat candles burned in sconces on the walls and on the rough wooden tables. For the most part, the walls of the room were of solid oak, a wood I recognized from back home but hadn’t seen much of, since it took so long to grow. I hadn’t seen any oaks on the northward journey from my home to Brightwater, so I figured they must have been imported. Trade from Brightwater certainly reached far out to the south. The owner of the tavern evidently had fine taste, an eye for quality, and must have also had an almost bottomless coin-purse.
The deep brown of the oak paneling of the walls reflected the warm light from the candles and the fire. It contrasted with the dark shadows in the corners and behind the beams that held up the low ceiling.