An Emperor's Fury: Most Favored

by Paul Heisel

  "How much for everything?"

  "Two hundred," Oka said, his face expressionless.

  Feln crossed his arms. He wasn't that desperate either, nor was he going to spend all of his coin on Oka's overpriced items. So this was the merchant's ploy. "You are no better than those three bandits," Feln said.

  Oka tried to keep a serious face, but he couldn't. He cackled. "I'm only joking. I can see by your seriousness that you aren't amused. Hum… I thought perhaps you would see the irony? You sell me a ring, only to lose all of your money buying supplies from the same man who bought the ring. Don't you find that funny?"

  "Hardly amusing," Feln said, remaining serious. It was a good joke though. He broke a smile.

  "Five silver," Oka told him. "That will be plenty for the food, pack, and the writing materials."

  "I'm not finished buying."

  "Oh?" His eyebrows went up. "This is my lucky day! I may get a few more coins back!"

  Feln pointed across the room to clothing.

  "Be my guest. There is a small room for you to try on whatever you would like. Take your time - I have a broken fence to fix, so I'll be outside for a few minutes. I won't have to worry about bandits and you won't rob me, so I may as well get that fence done while a warrior protects my shop. And you will protect my shop, no?"

  #

  Feln left the store in the twilight, the twin moons casting reddish rays across the streets of Tero. The inn had a lantern outside brightening the entrance, and this far away Feln could hear music and people celebrating. He had discarded the white ghi given to him by Rayu, and had replaced it with a set of black fighting clothes and a black ghi. The brown robe he would keep, as it had a down-to-earth quality that he liked, plus it was light and comfortable, not hindering movement at all.

  Inside the shop, he had discovered an old cloth map of Pyndira, embroidered with the names of the provinces. He was in Emesia headed north towards Hiru, which was the capital city. Oka said that he thought Hiru was ten or twenty times the size of Hou, and it was the seat of power. He mentioned the ruling family, Ku, and their Most Favored, Jun-ba-Ku-Chang. Rumors were abundant that they were disputing borders again with their traditional enemy, Furawa. Feln wanted to ask so many questions, but he figured showing so much ignorance would bring unwanted attention to himself. Based on Rayu's reaction to him and the magic belt, he thought it would be best to remain uninteresting, and it would be best if the magic belt remained hidden beneath his clothes.

  The night breeze blew dust into the air as Feln walked back to the inn, the overpowering aroma of hops gone now that brewing had ceased. It was going to be a good night, as he would get a decent night's sleep and spend time writing in his journal. He touched the pack, concealed neatly under his robe for now, and thought it had to be one of the best made packs he had ever found. It didn't hamper his movements in any fashion, and made the contents feel secure and negligible in weight. Up and down the street he could see citizens finishing their day with leisurely walks. The children were nowhere to be seen, nor were the puppies. He was about to open the door to the Amber Tun when he heard a creaking noise. A wagon was coming down the lane, drawn by a draft horse and bouncing from side to side as the wheels followed the unyielding pockmarks in the paved road. The driver urged the horse forward by making clicking sounds. The left wheel came off the axle, rolled to the side, and spun to the ground. The wagon came to a crunching halt, the axle digging into the pavers. The driver reigned in the draft horse and barely managed to keep from falling from the listing wagon. The night breeze kicked up, bringing with it more dust. Feln moved along the street toward the wagon. The driver was off the front seat and pulling out one of the long, thick boards that made up the side rails of the wagon. The driver was going to use the board as a lever to hoist the wagon and get the wheel back on. There was no way the driver could do it by himself.

  "Well met," Feln said out of habit, using the Accord of the Hand greeting. In front of him was a smaller person, dressed in common garb and a wide-brimmed hat. "Do you need assistance?"

  "It would be welcome," the driver, a woman, said. "The wheel has fallen off twice today. Curse my luck, I think I've lost the cotter pin. I'll never find it in the dark."

  "Let me take that." Feln grabbed the board and wedged it underneath the side, then lifted. He found the task easier than he thought.

  The belt.

  The driver grabbed the wheel, struggled with its bulkiness, and slipped it over the axle after much effort. Feln let the wagon drop level. He replaced the board without word, sliding into place between two brackets.

  "It normally takes two people to lift the wagon," the driver said. "You're stronger than you look. Thank you for your assistance."

  "It should last you until you get it to a smithy or a carpenter. Good night." Feln bowed and took his leave, heading into the Amber Tun with new purpose.

  #

  Iristi watched the stranger, the wanderer, who had saved Hou from the horse demon. She was rather impressed, as here was a warrior with no allegiance who was helping others, and without demanding pay. Earlier today, anyone with the ability to help had ignored her while she had tried to fix the wheel. A merchant and his family, who were headed to Hou, had finally helped her. Because of all the delays, she was only in Tero, still countless days away from Hiru. She should have made it farther today, at least two more villages distant if the wagon would had cooperated. Later this evening, she would have to refigure her schedule.

  Tiredness set in, as the day's events and the unreliable wagon had taken a toll on her. On the other the side of the building, she found a place to store her wagon for the night. Tomorrow she would have to find a blacksmith to fix it, and that would mean additional delays. She went inside the inn, the loud sounds of the evening obnoxious to her. This was a small town and it was supposed to be filled with reserved farmers who liked their peace and quiet, but there were men and women here, all drinking and singing. This evening many travelers were here as well, causing Iristi to worry. There may not be any rooms left. Iristi was fortunate and acquired the last room they had, arranged care for her draft horse, and asked if the innkeeper knew of anyone who could fix her wagon. The innkeeper assured her that he would see it done by the local blacksmith and it would be his pleasure to have it done without cost.

  Iristi thanked the overeager innkeeper and scanned the room, searching for the wanderer. Perhaps she should reintroduce herself. As she recalled, yesterday she was wearing the blue dress and looked different. Would he remember her? Feln was his name. Iristi gathered her things and disappeared upstairs, taking one last look at the room for Feln. He wasn't there.

  #

  Feln walked undaunted toward the innkeeper. He was certain the innkeeper had told the bandits of his transaction with Oka. As he strode toward the bar, the innkeeper seemed to understand why Feln was walking with intent. He looked panicked, a cornered dog with nowhere to run.

  "Good evening," the innkeeper said, stammering. "I take it Oka was able to help you?"

  "Yes. Tell your friends if they return, they won't survive."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," the innkeeper said.

  "There's a woman who's coming inside. She'll need help with her wagon, as it's broken. Have it fixed by tomorrow morning. All it needs is a new cotter pin to keep the wheel from falling off."

  "Of course, it will cost but a few silvers I'm sure." Out went his hand.

  Feln leaned toward the innkeeper. "You will do it out of the goodness of your heart. Unless you would like me to tell all of these fine people about you and your bandit friends. This place will be empty before you know it, and I'll return and buy the Amber Tun for a few silvers and throw you out into the street."

  "No need to be so…detailed. Of course, no cost," he said. "It'll be done. My pleasure. I believe the blacksmith is here tonight. I'll speak with him immediately."

  Feln headed for the stairs, intent on getting a good night's sleep. He scanned the room out
of habit, noting it was filled with a variety of people, both men and women, drinking and carrying on. He wondered if he was delusional, thinking he would have a restful night. They were loud, the din dulling to the senses. The innkeeper was over at a table talking with a gruff bearded man who looked like he had spent a lifetime near fires. Good, the wagon would be fixed.

  A simple folding pallet awaited him in the small room. It was feebly appointed with a small wooden table, a wash basin and ewer of water, and a tall vertical chamber pot. He set his things close to the pallet for easy access. Rest. Finally. He removed the precious belt and set it on the pallet. The events of the past two days caught up with him and he felt exhausted. His eyes and thoughts lingered on the belt, he felt uncomfortable without it on, and he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to keep it off.

  He wrote in the new journal, transcribing the cloth map and describing the events of the last few days. He located Hou and Hiru on the map and drew a small dot for the approximate location of Tero. Still uncomfortable, he reached for the belt and put it on. It made him feel better. As the last sentence flowed from mind to page, Feln unfolded the pallet and collapsed backwards on it, happy to rest. He was tired as he had ever been. No sooner had he drifted off to sleep when a shrill roar awakened him.

  #

  Iristi took hardy food and freshly brewed beer, which the Amber Tun was known for, sitting by herself in a dark corner. She was dirty and grimy, but it was just as well, she thought, no sense in announcing her presence and having to explain why she was here. Tero was under Hou's jurisdiction, thus, she was part of the government that oversaw this village of a few thousand, if you counted all of the farmers, servants, and people in a wide area as being part of Tero. The estate owners, a few farmers, and the merchant, Oka, knew her on sight. Thankfully, the innkeeper was not that good with non-regular faces and names, and there wasn't anyone in the common room that she recognized. She reflected on her decision to leave; there was no need to travel with fanfare as many of the other politicians did, and she was confident she would be safe by herself. Anonymous was better anyway, posing as a simple traveler heading to Hiru was as uninteresting as she could be. The roads were well-traveled and if she stayed near towns at night, she would make it to Hiru safely. Besides, Hou militia were patrolling these areas and keeping the bandits at bay. If the roads weren't safe enough for travelers, then it was her fault. The current patrols would have to be good enough for her too. She finished dinner and a boy came, telling her that he fixed the wagon with a new cotter pin the blacksmith gave him, which would keep the wheel from falling off. It was a relief not to worry about the wheel, and she would rest easy tonight and make up for lost time tomorrow. Finally, something had gone right today.

  Over the din of the common room came a shrill roar reminiscent of a beast, a cry Iristi had never heard before. The singing stopped. People rushed to the windows, crowding them, peering outside for what had made the noise. Iristi stood, breath held. The patrons slammed the shutters at the request of the innkeeper, sealing the windows from the inside, and everyone retreated to the center of the room for protection. A few cried out.

  "Dragon! In the sky!"

  None of the conversations that followed made any sense to Iristi, and they were hard to follow. Another roar sounded. The room fell silent. The earth trembled, shaking dust from the rafters. The dragon must have landed nearby. Heavy snorting and breathing could be heard from outside. Another roar came. Then there were no sounds at all. It took several minutes before anyone was brave enough to peek outside to confirm the dragon had gone. Music returned in time, as did the various conversations. Everyone was talking about the dragon and their good fortune to still be alive. Then it got noisy. The singing began and so did the celebrating.

  Iristi was still standing, nodding to others as they commented about surviving the dragon, not sure what she was agreeing with. It was difficult to hear. She sat down and her eyes went toward the staircase. Striding down was Feln. He moved with incredible grace and fluid strength. He was tall and had short cropped hair, and his facial hair was light stubble. As she had thought before, this wanderer was no more than a young man. To have so much experience at a young age was remarkable. He carried a katana, a blade reserved samurai. Another mystery. She wondered what he was doing in Tero. Why had he stepped out of the crowd in Hou to destroy the horse demon? Why was he traveling this way, the same direction as she? Should she be worried?

  His eyes were a deep blue color, dark blue, like the sea that she had only seen once. He looked strong, fit, was handsome, and exuded confidence. Wherever he was from, he was the leader, she was convinced of that. It made her wonder, why would a man with his stature choose to be a ranan? It didn't make sense. Any city or dayma would pay a handsome price to have him as part of their army - perhaps he didn't have enough followers. She pulled her hat down when he noticed her gawking at him, but it was too late. Iristi took a drink of beer from her bowl, part of her hoping he would go away, part of her hoping he would stay. Why was she this confused?

  "May I join you?" he asked.

  "If it's for a moment, yes you may. The dragon ruined the atmosphere for me, besides I'm weary from the day and must retire. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow."

  "Dragon?"

  "Yes, didn't you hear its roar?"

  "It woke me. Did it attack?"

  "I don't think so. The dragon clans of Emesia are reclusive and haven't been seen in this district in a long time. There must be something here the dragon wanted to see. Believe me, if it was here to attack, this village would be in ruins."

  "My name is Feln."

  "I know, we've already met." Iristi raised her head, tipping her hat back. Her lovely dark eyes flashed in the lantern light. "My name is Iristi."

  #

  "Yes, of course. Rayu's niece, how could I forget," Feln said. She looked different, and she had transformed into a common, dirty looking traveler. He figured there was a reason for her not wanting to draw attention to herself.

  "I suppose I have you to thank for having my wagon fixed?"

  "The innkeeper owed me a favor," Feln replied.

  "You have been through here before then? Previous work you did for him? Or do you have other contacts here in Tero?"

  Feln shook his head. "The reason doesn't matter. As long as your wagon is fit to travel, I'm happy."

  "Thank you."

  "Where are you headed?" Feln asked.

  "My destination is of no concern of yours," Iristi answered. "Why would I give such information to a wanderer? You have no allegiance here, and if you did, you would have to declare it. In these days of Furawa crossing into our borders, it would be easy enough for you to be acting under Furawan orders. Or are you protecting merchants for silver? What is your allegiance?"

  "You ask too many questions," Feln said.

  "You provide too few answers."

  "My allegiance is to myself," Feln told her. He wasn't certain how else he could have responded, or if he should answer any questions.

  Iristi laughed. "Of course you are loyal to yourself. If the money is right, though, your allegiance could change. You have no desire for land? Or did you lose your land and your followers? Dishonored?"

  Portions of what he had read about Pyndira returned. So, she does think I'm a ranan, what they referred to as a wandering lord - a person of importance but without land. Feln knew from his research that many of the provinces hired great warriors to protect the interests of the local governments. These ranan were swords for hire, going where the money was. He also remembered that it was of low station to be considered a ranan. Dishonorable, like she had mentioned.

  "My sword is not for hire," he said.

  "You aren't samurai or a landowner, yet you carry a samurai's blade. You don't have a formal name, so you can't be of higher station. You're a stranger, though, who seems out of place and you're wearing robes and fighting clothes, and not wearing armor or traveling by horse. You have no bow either, just a ka
tana. And your accent is different. Where are you from?"

  "That is no concern of yours," Feln said, worried where the conversation was going. "Why would I give such information to Rayu's niece?"

  Iristi laughed.

  Hearing her laugh was wonderful, and it reminded him of Owori. He missed her so much. His heart sank. What had happened? He had to get back to Borgard or the monastery to find out. But how? The belt was from the province where Suun lived, but where was that? He took a deep breath. He was afraid to ask those questions. If Iristi thought he was a stranger to this land, then others would deduce the same. He would be vulnerable, lost in a world without knowledge of what was happening. If only he could find Suun!

  "I need to sleep, as I have a long day ahead of me, just as you do."

  "You remind me of the monks from Ashimo," Iristi said. "You have their manner of speech. The same cadence, but not the accent. They have different sects, monks that pray and monks that fight. I think we can eliminate you being one of the monks that pray. Unless your katana is just for show."

  Feln didn't acknowledge Iristi's comment. "Safe travels, Iristi, may the gods speed you on your way."

  "You have to be a monk speaking like that!"

  "Rest well." Feln departed up the stairs, returning to his room. It was intriguing that Iristi thought he was from Ashimo. The notion that they had warrior monks and religious monks piqued his interest. It was like the Accord of the Hand and the Accord of the Spirit. Once inside his room, he made a note in his journal to that effect. Perhaps he needed to go to Ashimo and make contact with the monks there. It was reasonable to assume that monks from Ashimo could have traveled to Malurrion at a point in history, and maybe they had set up the monasteries or had been the ones who started the Accord of the Hand in Sabrin. He looked at his map, deciding he should travel east into Ashimo. That was where he would go.