As the horses crested the ridge, the girl’s face went from boredom to incredulous delight in the blink of an eye. She gripped the reins so tightly that her horse came to a stop in the middle of the path. She gazed down in rapt wonder at the valley below.
It was much different now, even than in the days of his youth, Royce thought. The city sprawl had extended further out from the mountainside. Houses and taverns now mingled with the lush green of the fertile farmland that surrounded the capital city. The facade was still as impressive as ever. Huge alabaster stone works had been raised around the mouth of the cavern, with the dragon’s skull perched atop them, nestled against the jutting peak of the mountain. The three brothers, their likenesses carved into towering statues of that same alabaster, gazed out over their city, standing as eternal sentinels over all mankind.
“Oh Sir,” she breathed. “It’s wonderful!”
Torus snorted, but his smile was kind, if a little sad. Royce wondered what he was thinking. The huge man had grown increasingly quiet over the course of their journey. The last day or so, he had barely said anything at all. Royce fervently hoped that he was just worried about the attack on the village and how that news would be received. It would make sense if that were the case, as his somnolence had grown the nearer they got to their destination.
Glancing at Tiadaria, he was pleased to see that her excitement hadn’t faded from the initial burst of wonder she had experienced at the top of the ridge. He wondered if she had ever been to a large city in her entire life. The clans weren’t known for traveling outside their territory, and they didn’t have any large cities that he was aware of.
He would have to ask, although he was hesitant to bring up her history, for fear of hurting the girl. There were plenty of things that were going to hurt her that he would be unable to avoid, or even a party to. He wasn’t going to do it on a whim.
Whether by habit or intent, Torus had taken up the point position, leading their meager train down the switchback path that lead from the pass to the floor of the valley. The horses seemed undeterred by the steep path and easily picked their way over the few loose rocks that had fallen onto the path from above. This was the portion of the arrival that Royce didn’t care for at all.
The path was narrow and there were too many places that a rock could be dropped from above onto an unsuspecting head. That was part of the point of such an approach, he knew. It made good tactical sense, but he preferred to use his tactical sense against others, not to feel like it was being used against him.
The lieutenant gave a low whistle and Royce was instantly alert. He had trained his men to use simple, unobtrusive signals when in dangerous situations and the trill that his former pupil had used urged caution and wariness. He brought his steed into step with Tiadaria’s. She looked at him and he was proud to see that she had recognized the signal he had taught her.
“Trouble, Sir?”
“Maybe. I’ll find out. In the meanwhile, keep behind Torus and I.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Royce spurred his mount and brought it alongside the much larger man. He was leaning back in his saddle, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling that they might pitch forward down the hill at any given moment. He looked sidelong at Royce without turning his head. Royce did the same.
“What is it, Torus?”
“Maybe nothing, Sir.” He glanced down over the lip of the switch back and then patted his steed’s neck absently. “But maybe something. Two men and horses, down at the head of the trail.”
Royce glanced down. He could just make out two forms in the shadow of a large boulder that marked the mouth of the pass leading through the high foothills. Squinting, he found that the horses had been tethered a short distance away and left to graze. Torus had always been long in the eye. He was one of the best archers Royce had ever trained. He dared say that the lieutenant was a better shot with a bow than even he, even taking into account his unique abilities.
“Too far away to tell much,” Royce said.
“Aye and it could just be my gut finally catching up to all the worrying I’ve been doing lately.”
They slipped into silence as they continued down the path together. When they reached the bottom of the trail, they found that the two men were merchant-traders, dickering over the price of goods that were coming through the pass by wagon. Royce was relieved that there had been a reasonable explanation for the unexpected overseers of their arrival, but it unnerved him to think that such precaution was even necessary.
He knew that Torus was on edge because of the girl. He expected trouble, and truth be told, they might find it by bringing a slave into the capitol. There were few things that bred distrust and dissension faster and more thoroughly than a slave among the commoners. They felt, and rightly so to Royce’s way of thinking, that every slave brought into the Imperium took a job away from a citizen who needed it. This attitude diminished the further one got from Dragonfell, but here, in the heart of the city, it would still be a matter of white hot contention.
Still, he hadn’t really had much of a choice in bringing her or not. Realistically, she had nowhere else to go and he couldn’t just leave her on her own. She may be growing into a fine warrior under his tutelage, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. There were those, even as far outside Dragonfell as King’s Reach was, who would seek to make an example of her. He wanted to ensure that she had both ample opportunity and sufficient skill to protect herself from that type of enemy when the time came.
As they approached the first crossroads, Royce finally began to settle. People on the street waved as they passed and if anyone noticed the thin witchmetal collar around his young companion’s neck, they didn’t call attention to it. It had been many years since he had come to Dragonfell. Maybe attitudes had changed for the better since the last time he was here. Still, it was a city teeming with people and that many people in that large of a crowd had a funny way of letting their neighbors decide what they should think.
The packed earth path became cobblestone, lined with neat little rows of cottages almost identical to his. Beyond them lie the larger buildings of the city proper. There were inns, common houses, and one or two buildings that Royce remembered from the days of his youth as popular brothels. They would pass through the market square and up the high street toward the royal palace, nestled safely inside the walls of the cavern.
Royce dared not take Tiadaria into the palace proper. Attitudes may have changed, but they wouldn’t have changed that much. He had the advantage of a purse full of coin, which would buy them a room and entertainment enough to keep her occupied while they finished their business here. They would be ready to move on before long. He hoped.
Chapter 11 - Common Ground
Royce had to chuckle at Tiadaria’s comically rapt expression as they passed through the market square. To someone who had never been outside their village, it must seem like a wondrous, miraculous place. Traders with crates tucked under their arms hawked their wares loudly and constantly, engaging in good-natured bickering over the quality and price of those competing against them for customers. There were stalls of all sizes, shapes, and descriptions. The merchants that manned these stalls were as varied and foreign as the wares they peddled.
The spinner’s cart was laden heavily with so many bolts of cloth that Royce thought he would be able to fashion a sail for every ship in the Imperium’s fleet. There were heavy linens and fine silks and the array of colors was dazzling. Purple, green, and blue in one pile, gold, orange and red in another. Still more combinations were heaped up in the cart, scattered haphazardly as the spinner bargained with the women who were competing for his singular attention.
Next to the spinner, there was a tanner with fine pelts and furs and soft leathers that looked that they would be soft and warm against the skin. Then there were bowyers, armorers, and artisans. The market square was busy and crowded, a sea of bodies moving with the influence of some unseen tide. They made way for the travelers, b
ut grudgingly, as it interfered with their bargaining.
They passed into the farmer’s section of the square and Royce’s mouth began to water. They had lived on field rations for the entire trip and the smell of spit-roasted meat was enough to set his stomach grumbling. He edged his horse nearer to the stall and called over the butcher’s boy, buying three skewers of beef glazed with a sweet-savory sauce. He tossed the boy a half-crown from his purse and waved off the need for any change. The boy scampered back to his Master to share his good fortune at such a generous purchase.
Royce passed the skewers onto Torus and Tiadaria and the three of them ate in silence as they wound through the streets toward the great statues. When he was finished, he licked the sauce from his fingers and wished that he had gotten twice as many of the sticks. Oh well, he mused, there would be plenty of time for eating after they had spoken with the king. He would see that Tiadaria got a good meal at the inn. It was likely, it being as late as is was in the day, that they would be invited to break bread in the palace. That wasn’t an invitation that one dismissed out of hand.
It wasn’t very long before they left the market square behind them and Tiadaria looked over her shoulder, her face a mask of wistful longing. Royce wished that he could just give her some pocket money and turn her loose to experience what the city offered, but he knew he couldn’t. The city would be dangerous for her. Not only because of her status as a slave, but because she wasn’t used to so many people in so confined a space. The narrow alleys, twists, and turns could be disorienting for someone who hadn’t seen more than a handful of stone buildings in their entire life.
At last they came to the inn that Torus had recommended. He told Royce that he would go on ahead, but meet him in the palace as soon as he had set his affairs in order. Royce nodded and said that he would be along as soon as he had settled the girl.
This late in the afternoon, the common room of the inn was mostly empty. There were a few older men playing at dice in the corner, but the evening patrons who would come for a hot meal and cold ale hadn’t yet begun to arrive. A young woman with fire red hair and eyes so green that Royce thought they could have been cut from emeralds stood behind the bar, rubbing oil into the worn wood. The girl was wearing a high-collared frock that made her look much older than her years. She looked up at them as they approached, her welcoming smile turning a trifle colder as she saw the collar around Tia’s neck.
“A room, please,” Royce said firmly, ignoring the look of disapproval. “Two beds, if you have it. A bed and a cot if you don’t. Two nights.”
“We book by the week,” she replied shortly. “Two crowns. Two and a half if you want meals too.”
He pulled his purse from under his belt and withdrew a five crown piece. The coin was thick and heavy, the namesake crown embossed on one side and an underscored numeral five on the other. He placed it on the counter and pushed it toward the girl, who turned it over in her hand for a moment before it disappeared into her apron. She produced a ring with a single simple key and pointed to the stairs at the end of the common room.
“Third floor,” she said without a trace of her previous animosity. “All the way at the end of the hall, room twelve. My name is Ecera, if you need anything.”
“Thank you, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
They stopped by the livery to retrieve their saddlebags and then climbed the common room stairs to their floor. There were only four rooms on the top floor of the inn, and theirs was the furthest away from the rest of the customers and lodgers. This suited Royce just fine. The fewer people that knew who they were or that they were there, the better. Things were going to be bad enough when he and Torus spoke with the King. He didn’t need to be compounding problems.
Once inside, Royce slid the bolt into the place. The room had two beds, a table, and not much else. A hand printed card on the table listed meal times and directions to the outhouse, which was behind the inn proper, near the stables. He tossed his saddlebags on the table and looked at Tiadaria, who was standing by the window looking out over the city.
“I need to meet Torus at the palace. Stay in the inn until I get back and then maybe we’ll have time to see the city.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, without turning from the window. There was an odd hitch to her voice, but Royce shrugged it off. She was probably still in awe of everything they had seen so recently. He paused a moment, torn between wanting to stay with Tiadaria and ensure that she was settled and discharging his duty to Torus and the King. In the end, his honor won out, and he turned on his heel and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
* * *
Tiadaria heard the door click shut behind her and she waited until the Captain’s footsteps faded away before she released a long, wavering sigh. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of the Captain. She didn’t want him feeling bad for things he had no control over. Still, the attitude of the girl behind the counter had hurt her in a way she hadn’t been expected.
Torus had warned them that things might be made difficult by her collar, but she had chosen to believe...believe what? That he had been lying? That somehow she was different? Her questions were answered only by bitter tears, which she swiped away angrily
Slave or not, she had had the opportunity to see the most wonderful things on their way into the city, she reminded herself. There were those, especially among her clan, who would never see the city of men, much less be able to stay there. She had never seen as much coin as she had during the few weeks she had been with the Captain. Her father, the Folkledre of her clan, had once shown her the entirety of the clan’s fortune, which amounted to about ten crowns.
The Captain carried five times that amount as a matter of course. Things were much different here. In the clans, one made what one needed, grew it, or did without. During the trade festivals in the spring and fall, the clans would gather to barter for items from the other tribes, but during the rest of the year, a clansman was expected to be self-sufficient.
For the first time, Tiadaria felt as if she was far from home. It wasn’t just the distance, either. She felt as if she was becoming more accustomed to being with the Captain than she had ever been with her clan. She had vowed that she would become more than a slave. Hadn’t she started down the path to just that end? She had learned to fight and was getting better at it every day. She had traveled to the most important city in the Imperium with a former servant of the King and his current Lieutenant. If she wasn’t shaping up to be more than a simple slave, the company she kept certainly said otherwise.
There was a soft rapping at the door and Tia jumped in surprise. She went to the door and slid the cover of the eye slit back. It was Ecera, the girl from the counter. Tia frowned. There had certainly seemed to be no love lost between the fire-headed girl and herself when she arrived, what could she possibly want now? Comforted by the fact that she was probably a much more skilled fighter than the boarding girl, she opened the door a crack.
“Listen, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, may I come in?” There was a pause. “Please?”
Squashing down her fighter’s instincts, Tia opened the door and allowed Ecera to come into the room. They were maybe a year or so apart in age, Tia thought. Ecera had seemed so much older when she had been talking to the Captain, but that was probably just her demeanor. She seemed genuinely contrite now and nodded courteously to Tia as she stepped into the room, her coarse brown skirt swirling around her ankles.
She plunked down on the bed and looked at Tia expectantly. Unsure of what to do, Tia pushed the door shut with a click and sat down on the bed opposite the one that Ecera had perched on.
“You don’t say much, do you?” Ecera asked, her head cocked to one side. She regarded Tia for such a long time that she began feel her face flush with embarrassment. “It’s okay,” the boarding girl continued. “My father, he owns the inn, says that I talk enough for three old spinsters anyway. I’m pretty sure I can hold up my end of the conversation and yours.�
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“Oh,” she said, before Tia could get a word in. “Your Master asked me to bring you this.” She took a gauzy scarf from her belt pouch. Slipping from the bed, she arranged it around Tia’s neck, hiding the collar from those who might casually look her over. “There you go,” she said with a small smile. “Much better.”
“Thank you,” Tia said, her voice very quiet.
Ecera cocked her head to the other side. Peering at her. Tiadaria was starting to get frustrated. She hated feeling as if she was some object of curiosity to be studied. She was about to snap.
“You’re not like other slaves I’ve seen,” the innkeeper's daughter declared in final judgment. “You’re much prettier and much less black-and-blue.”
“The Captain treats me very well,” Tia said, somewhat defensively.
“I’m sure he does,” Ecera replied, patting her knee awkwardly. “He trusts you a lot. I’ve never known a Master to leave a slave to her own devices without chaining her to the floor.”
“The Captain has never kept me in chains,” Tiadaria replied, stiffening. “Not since the days just after he...” She trailed off. She had never admitted to anyone else that she had been sold. It felt strange and unpleasant and she found herself wishing that she hadn’t opened the door in the first place.
“The days after he bought you,” Ecera said. She leaned forward and laid her palm against Tia’s cheek. Tia, startled by the unexpected show of compassion, withdrew from the touch.
“It’s okay.” Ecera’s voice had taken on an odd roughness. She reached up and pulled down the collar of her frock, exposing the thin metal band that encircled her throat.
The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 01 - The Last Swordmage Page 10