by Rob J. Hayes
“First one turned up at my family's ranch jus' days aft' I buried my parents. Arbiter Colm he called himself.” Betrim fixed Green with a cold stare. “Ya never forget ya first time. He was there ta look about my parent's death. Seems he thought they died of unnatural circumstances.”
“Did they?” Green asked.
“Well seeing as how I stabbed 'em both myself. Aye.”
“You killed ya own parents?” Green asked. “Why?”
“We had a disagreement 'bout a chicken.” Betrim watched as Green's face went slack. It was always fun telling folk that, they were never sure whether he was shitting them or not. “Arbiter Colm, he started askin' all the other folk on the ranch a load of questions 'bout my parents. How my da' had come by the ranch, was my ma' ever right with her future tellins. Ever been asked a question by an Arbiter, Green?”
“No.”
“Ya can't lie. Ya can try as much as ya want. Try ta shit 'em. Try not ta say a thing. Don't make a difference. Ya can't lie ta an Arbiter. They force the truth out o' ya.” Betrim said as he watched Bones flick the last bit of human flesh from his knife into the camp fire and take out his brown rag to start cleaning his bones.
“Thing is though, even Arbiters need ta sleep sometimes. Not often maybe but sometimes. So I hid. Watched. Waited. Saw him question all the other folk on the ranch, heard every single one of 'em tell the Arbiter I was the killer. None of 'em knew where I was though, hidden up in the rafters of the main house, scurryin' around the walls like a rat. Not even the Arbiter knew I was there, thought I'd run off, he did.
“So there I waited until the Arbiter closed his eyes, locked the room. Old house like that some of the boards in the roof jus' come right up an' I was still a boy, jus' fourteen years ta my name. I slid through the gap in the roof an' into the Arbiter's room. Quiet as a ghost. Quiet as Henry sneakin' up behind you jus' now.”
Green craned his neck around to find Henry staring down at him. Spiky hair standing up at all angles. Bright flames dancing in the reflection of her dark eyes. Such a sight was enough to make even Betrim shiver.
“Swift. Get ya arse up,” Henry said walking over to the Boss and taking a seat. “Your watch.”
“Oh fuck me, Henry.”
“Not a chance.”
“I was jus' about asleep there listenin' ta that,” Swift said grinning towards Betrim and walking out of the circle of fire light. “Ya sure have led a dull life, Black Thorn.”
“What happened?” Green asked, back to staring at Betrim with big, round eyes.
“Huh?”
“With the Arbiter.”
“Oh right. I slit his throat in his sleep. Well, more like stabbed him in the neck a few times. I was new ta killin' folk back then, wasn't overly sure how it worked. Still, result was the same. Bled ta death pretty quick.”
“Ya didn't fight him?”
Betrim laughed at that. A hard, rasping sound to be sure but the boy's question was as funny as anything he'd heard for some time. “Fight him? Fight an Arbiter? Listen up, Green. I've killed six of the fuckers an' only one of 'em did I fight. Gave me this.” Betrim shoved the left side of his face towards Green, the burned side. Pitted, melted flesh. As ugly a scar as Betrim had ever seen and the reason he didn't keep a mirror. Not that he was too pretty before the burn.
“I got off easy. Ever heard of a town called Lanswitch in the Bore province?”
Green swallowed. “No.”
“Cos it don't exist no more. Burned to the ground durin' our fight. I got the blame for all of that too. A hundred folk died in that fire; men, women an' kids an' it all got pegged on me.
“Ya wanna kill an Arbiter do it in their sleep. Fill 'em with arrows before they spot ya. Walk past 'em in the street an' get all stabby. Jus' don't let 'em see ya coming cos if they do... ya fucked.”
Silence seemed to hold for a long time. Only the crackle and pop of the fire, the low hissing of the wind and the honking from the nearby great herd sounded in the void. Bones spat into his rag. “That's why I never asked.”
The Arbiter
Even in the near total darkness the Inquisition compound was busy. Servants going to and fro with messages or food stuffs. A few Arbiters coming or going but at this time most were tucked away in their bunks. Sometimes an Inquisitor might be seen; they lived outside of the compound in large expensive houses. They had 'earned' that right through years of faithful service, so travelled each day to and from their homes.
He sat on the cold stone steps outside the barracks, smoking. Smoking casher weed was common practice among many around the world but in most places it was smoked in a pipe. Here in Sarth it was possible to purchase the expensive weed rolled in small slips of paper. A rare and costly pass time but Thanquil only visited Sarth once every three years and he couldn't stand smoking out of a pipe. The effect of the weed left him a little light headed but didn't impair him in any way.
It was a couple of hours before dawn; he'd have to make his way to the docks soon. If he missed the boat to the wilds the Inquisitors would not be pleased and the last thing Thanquil needed was the displeasure of the twelve most powerful people in the Inquisition. Besides, he could still remember the feel of the Grand Inquisitor's compulsion. He could still remember how strong the old man was. The mere thought of it sent chills down his spine and Thanquil sucked in another lungful of smoke.
“Early morning, Arbiter.” Thanquil looked up to see Arbiter Vance approaching. He was starting to think the young man was following him.
“Late night. Didn't feel much like sleeping.”
Vance grunted and sat down next to Thanquil as if they were old friends having a pleasant chat. Nothing could be further from the truth as far as Thanquil was concerned. Hard to tell the son of the Grand Inquisitor to 'piss off' without causing offence though so Thanquil just sat in awkward silence.
“I hear you're going to the wilds,” Arbiter Vance said into the warm darkness.
“I hear you have the sight so why don't you tell me where I'm going.”
Thanquil saw Vance smile out of the corner of his eye and conspired to 'accidentally' blow smoke in his direction. It failed. A gust of wind picked up at just the wrong moment and spoiled his moment of petty victory.
“I don't look into people's futures unless they ask me to,” the young Arbiter said in a soft voice. “It could be considered... rude.”
“I give you my permission.” The future was always a gamble; any way to stack the odds in Thanquil's favour seemed worth it to him.
“Nothing,” Arbiter Vance answered far too fast. “I see nothing.”
“How useful your gift is.” Thanquil decided he'd had enough of the young Arbiter and he had a boat to catch. “Goodbye, Arbiter Vance.”
“Be careful, Arbiter Darkheart.” Thanquil turned and Arbiter Vance seemed to be staring through him with those unnerving yellow eyes. “Sometimes an enemy can be friend.”
Now the boy considered them friends? Thanquil would almost have preferred them to be enemies; at least he knew where he stood with enemies. With a sigh and a shake of his head Thanquil walked away, leaving Arbiter Vance sitting on the steps.
He had never liked sea travel. It always felt dangerous to him, like giving your life over to someone else's hands only that someone was a vast, powerful and sporadically vengeful body known as 'the sea'.
He stood, on the docks, looking at the boat that was to take him to the wilds. The slight rise and fall of it in the water as men loaded cargo up the ramp was almost mesmerising. So little wood between him and cold, wet death.
“You my passenger?” the Captain of the ship was an ageing man, grey in hair and short of teeth with a squinting left eye and a red, scabby rash that stretched from his left ear down past his collar. He wore a simple tunic and short britches that ended just below the knee. All in all he looked no different from any man on his crew save the hard stare and the air of a man in command.
“Aye, that's me. Arbiter...”
“Don
't need no more than that,” the Captain interrupted without so much as a flinch. “Cas, ya got a bunk spare fer the Arbiter?”
“Aye, Cap'n.”
“Ya be sleeping with the crew. Ain't got no spare rooms seeing as this ain't no passenger ship. Only cabin is the captain's.”
“Seems like a good boat,” Thanquil said with a nod, shouldering his bags. He'd left his mare in the Inquisition compound. A shame but there wasn't room for a horse on the voyage; he'd just have to buy a new beast when he reached the wilds. If he reached the wilds.
“She's a ship, not a boat.” the Captain said in a testy voice. It was almost refreshing to find someone not terrified of Thanquil just for being an Arbiter.
“I'm sorry. I wasn't aware there was a difference.”
The Captain looked at Thanquil as if he were an ignorant child. “Ships is bigger,” he said.
“I see.”
“Inquisition's paid fer ya already but keep yaself out o' the crews' way, Arbiter. An' none o' ya burning crap whiles ya here. Only authority on a boat is the Captain's.”
“Thought you said it was a ship,” Thanquil said and immediately regretted it. “I understand, Captain. I shall refrain from burning anybody for the duration of the trip.”
The Captain growled and shouted up the ramp. “Cas, get the Arbiter stowed away. Don't want him underfoot as we cast off.”
“Aye, Cap'n,” shouted a small lad Thanquil. The boy waved Thanquil up the ramp and then darted away.
Cas was short but already turning to muscle. He wore only britches and was topless with a sun burnt torso and face. His hair was short, dark and greasy and the boy stank of the sea, as did the entire ship, its crew and in fact the sea itself. Thanquil was not looking forward to the voyage.
The boy led him into the bowels of the ship, skipping along with bare feet scuffing the wood. He stopped in front of a bunk. “'Ere ya go.”
In truth the bunk was little more than a wooden shelf surrounded by other wooden shelves. It was short, just long enough for Thanquil; there was no mattress, no sheet to cover him and no pillow on which to rest his head. It suited him just fine. He'd slept on worse, far worse and would be glad just to have a flat surface to sleep on. He wasn't sure what the worst part of the journey would be yet but was leaning between the constant fear of uncertain and unavoidable death, or stopping himself from stealing for the entire three week period. If things started going missing it wouldn't take long for fingers to start pointing in his direction.
So Thanquil sat down on his bunk and waited. He could feel the gentle bobbing of the ship beneath him, could hear the occasional creak of timbers and could imagine the cold water just a few short paces away. At least he wasn't sea sick. Some people couldn't handle the constant motion of being on the water; they went green and would spend the entire voyage emptying their stomachs over the side of the ship. Thanquil had no idea whether he'd be one of those people, he wasn't about to risk it, instead he wore a charm around his neck to ward off nausea.
He felt the boat begin to move. It was a strange sensation to know you were moving but not to be able to see any proof of it. Perhaps that was what caused sea sickness? Thanquil leaned back in his bunk, took out a small wad of papers and the tiny ink jar he kept and began to inscribe symbols onto the papers. It was always best to keep a wide variety at hand, never knew what would be needed and when.
“What ya doin'?”
Thanquil looked up to see Cas staring at him in wonder. It was possible the boy had never even seen paper before.
“I'm creating runes.”
“Oh. The Cap'n says ya can come up on deck now if ya want. What's a rune?”
“It's a... formation of power. I inscribe the rune on paper or on wood. Then when I break the rune the power is released,” Thanquil said. A simplified explanation to be sure but it would serve.
“I don't get it,” Cas said, a blank expression covering his childish features.
Thanquil grinned, glanced around to check there was no one else close by and selected a piece of paper he had recently marked, then took his dagger from its sheath on his boot. He placed the dagger against the paper and, with an easy slice, cut the paper in two, letting both pieces float to the floor. The blade of the dagger burst into bright orange flame and Thanquil was rewarded by seeing the boy's jaw drop and his eyes go wide. After a few seconds the flame, with no fuel to sustain it, gutted out.
“Not s'posed ta have fire on the ship,” Cas said, his eyes still fixed on the dagger as Thanquil wiped it on his coat then placed it back in its sheath.
“In that case, you don't tell anyone and I won't do it again.”
Cas nodded. Thanquil stood up, stretched and walked for the door leaving the boy behind to gape in wonder at the two halves of paper on the wooden floor.
Outside Thanquil was assaulted by a brisk, salty breeze that was refreshing in the face of the constant sun and heat of the region. The ship moved with constant but gentle rises and dips as it cut through the water. Sailors darted this way and that, some up on the rigging, some down on the deck, all with their own jobs to do and all going about them with no fuss. It might have been comforting except for the shadow of death following them all just waiting for the body of water below to have a violent change of mood.
Thanquil leaned on the railing at the port, or the bow, or stern... he had no idea which was which and was happy to call it the railing on the left. He could still just about see Sarth already little more than a white blob on the coastline and getting smaller by the minute.
After a while the Captain joined him by the railing and leaned with his back against it and a wild grin on his face.
“Wind is good, fer now. If it keeps up we'll make good time, Arbiter.” If Thanquil had to pick a word for the sound of the Captain's voice he would have picked 'salty'.
“Aye but is it like to keep up, I wonder.”
“Hard ta say. The wind does what it will, goes double for the wind at sea.”
Thanquil nodded to the Captain's pointless drawl as if it was the sagest advice he'd ever heard. He'd learned long ago that often when you had nothing to say it was best to say nothing at all.
“Ya don't much like the sea do ya, Arbiter?” the Captain asked after a while.
Thanquil was always amazed by people. The Inquisition was the most feared organisation in the known world and the Arbiters were the hands that dispensed the Inquisition's righteous judgement. Most folk knew better than to talk to an Arbiter. After all, they had the authority to act as judge, jury and executioner all in the space of one conversation. However, time and time again Thanquil found himself the subject of questions from others. Perhaps it was because he hated asking questions himself.
“I wasn't aware it was that obvious,” he replied trying to let a hint of danger creep into his voice. He failed.
“Maybe not ta most,” the Captain said with a pompous tone, “but I been on the sea fer near thirty years, learn ta spot these things af' a while.”
“I'm sure you do. I find it hard to like something that has so many ways to kill me indiscriminately. Storms, giant waves, pirates, sea serpents. Hard to think of a more dangerous foe than the sea.”
The Captain grinned. “Aye, not ta mention whirlpools an' sirens an' ghost ships.” The man laughed. “Storms are a threat; it's true, but rare this time o' year. Be no giant waves where we going, see them more nearer the Dragon Empire. Pirates are a real bother but not yet met the pirate that can outrun the Sea's Scorn here.” He stroked the railing with the caress one would reserve for a favoured lover. “As fer sea serpents an' the rest. I been on the sea fer near thirty years an' ain't never seen any of 'em.”
“Doesn't mean they don't exist,” Thanquil said scratching the stubble on his cheeks. “I've never seen dragon but I know they exist.”
“I have,” the Captain boasted. “Bloody impressive but not near as bad as all the stories.” The man gave Thanquil a slap on the shoulder and started off. “Three weeks on board, Arbi
ter, give or take. Might as well make the best o' it.” He seemed a different man now that he was at sea, a much happier man than the one Thanquil had met on the docks. “Besides, ain't no harm gonna come ta you. Arbiters are the chosen of ya God, ain't they?”
Thanquil nodded with a fake smile and went back to staring out to sea. Sarth was no more than a speck on the horizon now. He chanted a quick blessing of sight and could just about make out the black tower of the Inquisition and the white tower of the imperial palace. Somehow it seemed fitting.
The Black Thorn
Fact was Korral was just about the last place Betrim wanted to be. Fact was Korral was where Betrim had been stuck for the past two days. The great herd was an always moving mass of beasts in all shapes and sizes and after just five days the herd had passed enough for the Boss' group of sell-swords to finish their journey to Korral. There were still a great many animals on the plains but not near as many and not near as packed and the beasts were as happy to give the group of sell-swords a wide birth as the sell-swords were to be on their way again.
If anything the passing of the great herd had helped. Korral was full to bursting with people. Hunters, skinners, leatherworkers, merchants, sailors and more all flocked after the great herd and the guards were already so hard pressed keeping the peace they didn't have time to keep a look out for folk with bounties on them. So Bones had found them a nice little hovel as near to the docks as possible and the Boss had made some inquiries as to getting a boat to Chade.
Only Green would have been safe walking around the streets of the free city, the rest of them were too well known, too easily recognised. Problem was though, none of them trusted Green yet so the Boss ordered them all to stay in the dirty hovel until the boat was leaving.
There was only so much being cooped up with the same folk day in and out that a man could take, Betrim reckoned, and he also reckoned he was nearing his limit. If it wasn't Swift's barbed comments it was Green's doe eyed hero worship or Bones' constant cleaning of his bones. Even Swift had taken to frowning and it took a lot to stop that one from grinning.