Yuri moved closer as the man went behind his table.
“This, young sir, separates the men from the boys and the lonely men from the men with beautiful wives.” He pulled out a wooden flute from a wicker basket that held a dozen similar flutes hidden under the table.
“A flute?”
“Not just any flute, my boy, but one made from a master craftsman. One of a kind. There is not another like it in the village, nor nearby plains and valleys.” The man laid the flute out, resting it on his palm. “Look at that craftsmanship.”
“A flute?”
“Son, are you telling me the men in your village refrain from music?” The man frowned, looking at Yuri skeptically.
“Of course not, we have excellent musicians and singers.” It would not do to stand by while his village was insulted. “We have more than one strings expert in Mandan.” There were two, but Yuri didn’t feel like it was time to get too specific. He eyed the flute like it might suddenly turn into a rat. “A flute.”
“I am never one to advise my customers, son, they, and you, obviously know more than me about the world, out traveling in it while I stay in this simple village, but this one time, I feel I must. This flute, this finely crafted, one-of-a-kind flute could be your best companion. Not only will it keep you company, but it will bring you company, believe me.”
Yuri did not.
“I will let the flute rest my case.” The merchant pressed his lips together than ran his tongue over his teeth in what Yuri assumed was some sort of warm up gesture. Then, he brought the flute to his lips and started playing. A slow, haunting tune began to fill the air. Those nearest the vendor stopped what they were doing to listen. As Yuri listened, the feelings of loneliness he had been trying to ignore since leaving the village seemed to rear up and grab his heart. As the merchant continued, Yuri felt a tear roll down his cheek. Even as the weight pressed on his chest, he also felt better, as if the pressure was also holding him together. Looking around to see if anyone had noticed his reaction, he saw that everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen, too.
The merchant continued, taking the simple melody and filling it with passion and longing. Eyes closed, he played on, not knowing if Yuri was even there. At that moment, Yuri realized how much he had misjudged this man, taking him for a simple hawker of wares. How many people back in Mandan were like this man, he thought, carrying such skills without fanfare? How many of the people have I met that I misjudged? How many people am I going meet will I misjudge? Yuri promised himself that he would not take his first impressions as the final verdict on the people he would meet.
The merchant ended his song, and opened his eyes. He saw the path of the tear on Yuri’s cheek and the look in Yuri’s eyes. “My young man,” this time his tone was different, less friendly but more real, “I have not played like that in a long time. Something in you brought that out of me, and I see by your reaction that you are a man of depth, or at least you will become one someday.” Yuri stood taller at the compliment. The merchant took a deep breath, exhaling long and slow, and then continued. “Take this with you on your journey.”
“I can give you twenty arrows,” Yuri offered.
“I will not accept.” The man sat down on a bench behind his table. “Go on your travel, gather up some tales, and tell them to me on your return trip and it will be I who got more than the most out of this deal.”
Yuri accepted the flute.
Chapter 12
Lanner and Lamot entered Perante’s fortress with another load of timber. Their mood was black and their heads were downcast. They didn’t talk. Instead, they unloaded the wood, quickly, quietly, and efficiently. The usual joking with the laborers on the third floor was absent. They both knew that the sooner they finished, the sooner they could leave. Their conversation with Perante took place two days ago. Melanie was last seen yesterday being escorted by two of Perante’s guards.
It was hard work, using a treadmill to move the ropes that were wrapped around barrels as pulleys to get the logs up to the second floor. The brothers worked the ropes from ground level while two of Perante’s men handled collecting them on the second floor. Between the creaking of the windlass, the shouts to keep the timber lined up, and the muffled conversation of the second floor workers, Lamot could hear Lanner talking to himself, but he could not make out what he was saying.
Lamot didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing other than what was required to do their work. Finally, Lanner stopped in the middle of hauling a log up and looked straight at Lamot, “I can’t do it. I can’t do nothing, brother. I have to look for her.”
Lamot held his brother’s gaze. “It’s too late, and what do you think you could possibly accomplish? You don’t know where she is, or even what she’s thinking. She probably already loves it here. You know he…”
“It doesn’t matter, it was my damn mouth that..”
“If it isn’t my favorite woodsman!” Perante’s voice boomed across the courtyard. Both men looked down, not wanting to see Perante’s face.
“Now, now, men, no need to look downcast. You may have lost a potential wife, but think of the life she can have here, not stuck in some hovel, living as a peasant.”
Lanner’s hands tightened on the rope, his knuckles turning white.
“I am a gracious man, here to express my thanks. Because she is so charming, I am going to double my usual finder’s fee.” Neither men looked up. Perante smiled, pulling two small gold coins out of his shirt pocket. He threw both of them at the feet of Lanner, who was closer. “I know that is easily two months wages. Enjoy with my compliments.”
Lamot mumbled, “Thank you.”
Lanner said nothing. Perante noticed, thinking, he will be one of my servants by nightfall. “Continue working. I have company that must be attended to.” With that, Perante left.
“Lamot,” Lanner was the first to speak. “Leave, right now. Go home, get Lanore and our parents, and leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Lanner walked to Lamot. “Big brother, I can’t live with myself if I don’t at least try to find Melanie. And whether I find her or not, we know it isn’t safe for us or our family to stay.”
Lanner could see the pulsing in a vein in Lamot’s forehead as Lamot grabbed him by the jacket, lifting him off the ground and said, “You have no right to do this to our family. You screwed up and Melanie is paying for it. That’s what it’s like living under these bastards. Deal with it. Don’t take it out on the rest of us.”
“What…” Lanner was temporarily speechles as Lamot held him up off the ground. He looked at his brother and sighed, relaxing his body even as Lamot kept him above the ground. Finally, he asked Lamot, “And what, brother, do you think he will do to Lenore when he is done playing with us?”
Lamot slowly let Lanner down. Both men stared at each other in silence. Lamot was the first to speak. “Then we do this smart.”
“But fast,” interjected Lanner.
“Yes, smart and fast. We get these last two logs out and upstairs. You hide while I leave. Stay out of sight for at least an hour, that way if you get caught I might have enough time to round up Lenore and our folks.” Lamot smoothed his brother’s jacket. “Can you do that?”
Lanner’s fists tightened, “and more.”
“I hope so, brother, I hope so. Let’s get on with this damned day.”
***
As Lamot headed out of the castle, one of the two guards at the gate asked, “Where’s your brother?”
“Ask your boss,” Lamot replied, and kept the horses moving. The guard shrugged his shoulders at the other guard, who shook his head. It was an impossible job, not keeping track of who comes in but who leaves. Perante might be keeping them to work, to terrorize, or to add to the work force. A guard never knew what was going on, and not asking questions usually worked better than the reverse.
The guard near the pulley that would lower the gate asked, “What do you think? New court jester?
They never last long.”
“Nah, these woodsman are strong. I bet we have another guard.”
“Ugg. Between you and me, those guys are always too cheerful.” The guard shuddered.
“Don’t say that too loudly,” the other warned.
“Say what, I didn’t say anything.” With that, the two went back to watching the entrance, making sure those coming in had reasons and those leaving were allowed to leave.
Back where the lumber was off loaded, Lanner placed his ax on the ground in a corner, throwing hay over it. It wouldn’t do to carry an ax around, but he liked the idea of at least having one he could come back to. He tried to guess where Perante would keep women he was interested in: probably near his bedroom, that sicko, he thought. Unfortunately, he had no idea where that would be.
I’ll go up, he thought. Powerful people like looking down on the rest of us, so maybe she is up there somewhere. He tried to come up with things to say if he was questioned: I’m looking for the lieu, I’m fetching …. Lanner was quick witted, but he just wasn’t coming up with a believable excuse. I’ll just keep my head down, mouth shut, and walk with a purpose.
Lucky for Lanner, people in Perante’s residence were conditioned to answer questions, not ask them, and seeing someone with his or her head down was the norm. This did not hold true, though, around any stairs heading up to the third floor. He walked past three guarded stairwells before realizing he was not going to get to the third floor easily.
All right, he thought, time to think like castle dweller. What will get me up there? Food? Don’t have any of that and am not part of the kitchen crew. If I had a woman with me, I could probably bluff my way, but that’s why I’m here in the first place. I’m a craftsman. How about that? Just as Lanner decided on that plan, he turned the corner and came face to face with a guard in front of another staircase.
The guard was just as startled as Lanner, coming away from the wall he was leaning on. Lanner could tell he caught this guard sleeping. Before the guard could say anything, Lanner punched him as hard as he could, hitting the surprised guard and knocking his head into the wall. He crumpled to the floor. As Lanner stepped over his body, he said, “It’s okay, I’m here to work on…oh, never mind.”
He was on the third floor.
Chapter 13
As Yuri headed out of the village in what he hoped was the direction to the dragon talker’s hut, he tried the flute. He pursed his lips and moved them around like he saw the merchant do in his warm-up, and then brought the flute to his lips. With the memory of the merchant’s song in his mind, he blew into the flute. The sound that came out was nothing like what he had heard earlier. He thought it sounded like a 5 year old blowing on a blade of grass between his fingers for the first time, only not as good. He was right.
He lowered the flute, “Hmmm, I think this might take a while.” Even though it sounded nothing like the merchant, Yuri was undaunted. “Birds,” he said looking at the trees around the path, “do not worry, this is only practice. I’m sure you didn’t sound so good your first time out, either.” As he walked, he practiced, soon realizing just getting a nice tone would be a good place to start.
Before he knew it, he was approaching a hut at the end of a trail. A thin man in his 40s stepped out of the hut, “Pray tell, are you a professional musician come to put on a show?”
Yuri looked up, red-faced and embarrassed. “No sir, not at all. Just starting.” He put the flute in his jacket pocket.
“You quit easy, boy.” The contempt was clear in the man’s voice. “Keep that up and you will never get better.”
Yuri reached back into his pocket to take the flute back out.
“Not now. You should practice, but I don’t want to hear it.” As Yuri took his hand away from the flute, the man continued, “Who are you? What do you want from me?”
“I’m…” Yuri began.
“Don’t lie to me, stranger, I’m a dragon talker and I can tell if you’re lying.”
Yuri paused. He didn’t know that that could be a gift. There’s so much I don’t know, he thought.
The man stared at Yuri, waiting.
“I’m the new dragon talker for Mandan. Both the talker and his apprentice died in a fire, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m looking for help.”
The man’s lips turned down into a frown. “A dragon talker, huh? Let me see your amulet.” The man walked towards Yuri as he pulled out his necklace.
He reached for it, but Yuri turned away and put it back. “That’s going to have to be good enough.” Yuri didn’t know why he said that, but letting the man hold it didn’t seem right.
“Well, that’s the first smart thing I’ve seen you do. But do it again, I’ll tear your head off.”
Yuri’s brow furrowed, “What?”
“Kid, I can’t tell if you lie or not. I lied, and you just believed me. Admitting you’re a dragon talker, away from your village. Are you stupid? Mages will torture you for what you know; other talkers might have orders to do who knows what. Some might just be sick and tired of people coming to them, asking them questions they can’t possibly answer.”
Yuri was crestfallen, “But how am I supposed to learn?”
“Your old talker.”
“is dead! And I’m on my own trying to figure it all out.” Yuri saw all his plans unraveling. “You got to help me.”
“I am, dragon talker. Go home - out here unprepared will get you killed. I would do it myself without a second thought.”
Yuri almost stepped up to the talker, but he was realizing the man’s threats just might be real. “Listen, please. I don’t know what to do. I will do anything if you help me.”
The talker stared at Yuri. Yuri didn’t flinch. “Anything? Will you kill? Sacrifice your family? Friends? Better yet, are you ready to be the most hated man in your village? You don’t know what the tail you are talking about. I will say this once more, so listen carefully: Go home before you get yourself killed. Your dragon will teach you what it needs to if it wants.” With that, the talker entered his hut and closed the door.
Yuri stood and stared at the door, frozen in place. This was not how he imaged it would go. He kept waiting for the talker to come back out. Instead, Yuri heard the faint sounds of a fire being set up. Soon, he saw smoke coming from the chimney. With nothing else to do, he turned around and started heading back down the trail.
Half way down the trail, Yuri stopped. What am I thinking? I’m not going to let him chase me off like a little kid. He turned around. Okay, tough man, he thought, I can be tough, too. Yuri felt his heartbeat speed up and he was sweating in the cool afternoon by the time he made it to the door. Once there, he hesitated for just a moment before pounding on the door.
“Listen, I just want some answers to some basic questions… I’m not leaving until I get them.” Yuri waited and tried to hear what was going on inside the hut. He didn’t hear anything, but soon he felt a presence behind him. Turning, he jumped back, his pack banging into the door as he saw the dragon talker standing behind him with an ax.
“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?” The talker held the ax in one hand, as if it were as light as Yuri’s flute. He brought the head of the axe under Yuri’s chin. “That doesn’t always go over so well, does it?”
Yuri slowly raised his hand up to the head of the axe and gently put pressure on it, “I’m just trying to take care of my village.”
“I don’t give a damn about your village. I have my own to take care off. Some lessons only stick with blood, I guess.” The talker raised his axe. Yuri bolted under the talkers raised arms.
The talker missed Yuri but caught the back of his pack, pulling it and Yuri into the wall of the hut. Yuri slipped his arms out of his pack and ran ten steps away before looking behind to see what the talker was doing. He was just standing there, axe resting on his pack, claiming it.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” Yuri yelled, “but all I want is my pack and I will go.�
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As Yuri waited for his reply, the air around the talker began to shimmer in waves, like heat off of rocks in the summer. Slowly, the talker began to disappear behind the waves. I guess I know what gift his dragon gave him, Yuri thought as he watched as the talker completely disappear and the air became still again. I hope I can heal from axes.
Yuri tried to see evidence of the talker, waves in the air, footprints, but the ground was too firm for the tracker to leave tracks and he was either standing still or extremely quiet. Yuri wanted his pack, but he didn’t want to face an angry, invisible man with an axe, either. “I’m taking my pack and leaving.”
Yuri started running to his pack, jumping from side to side, hoping that might throw off the talker’s aim. When he reached his pack, the air started to shimmer again and Yuri realized the talker had never left. The talker took a long, overhead swing of the axe at Yuri. Yuri raised his right arm to protect his head. The blade of the axe bit into the muscle of his arm above the elbow, cutting clear to the bone. Blood was streaming down his arm freely. It would have been worse if the jacket wasn’t made out of leather, but even still it was enough that any normal person would have passed out from the blood loss. Yuri, though, was no longer normal.
Even so, his arm went numb immediately as he fell to the ground. On the ground, Yuri looked at the talker as he picked the axe up to take another swing. He couldn’t move his right arm and his left was holding his upper body off the ground. Yuri kicked out at the talker and hit his kneecap, the kick straightening the talker’s leg and then breaking it as he forced it to bend in the other direction.
The talker screamed and fell to the ground, trying to grab his knee but unsure how to move in a way that didn’t cause pain. Yuri leaned back, trying to use his bleeding arm for balance. It did not hold his weight and he fell onto his back. He lay there dizzy and panting; blood pooled on his chest and ran down his sides as he cradled his arm against his sternum. Looking up, he saw the darkening skies and listened to the man who attacked him moan in pain. Occasionally, Yuri would lift his head to check if the talker was getting up. He was not, and it did not look like he would be getting up any time soon.
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