Path of The Calm (Saga of The Wolf Book 1)

by Kris Hiatt

  “Don’t think that I missed the fact that you called me a child,” Treace said.

  “What you going to do about it, little baby?” Moff said, running once Treace reached for him. He cackled as he ran.

  Treace found it hard not to smile as he chased after his friend, even though his head pounded doing so.

  #

  Treace was glad that the mood seemed to be much less exuberant in the Iron Anvil tonight. Looking around, he hoped it would stay that way. He had been The Wolf for barely more than a week and it was already getting to him.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll pick up,” Moff said, misinterpreting his action.

  “I’m not so worried about that,” Treace told him.

  “That’s the spirit,” Moff said.

  Treace didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t mean it that way. “Don’t start,” Treace told him.

  “At some point, someone will come in asking about The Wolf. Are you going to ignore them too?”

  Treace sighed, something he realized he was doing quite frequently as of late, and shook his head. He knew he had to play the part to some degree, but he clearly told Moff it needed to be toned down.

  “No, but I can’t help but feel I’m lying to people.”

  “You aren’t lying. You’re playing a part in a grand performance. You only need to keep it together until the curiosity of The Wolf subsides, which it will, eventually.”

  Treace was glad to hear that last part. He secretly hoped it would be a one night show.

  “Fine, just order some drinks. I think I play The Wolf better while drunk,” Treace told him.

  Moff was happy to oblige and they were soon drinking more wine. It didn’t taste as bad as Treace thought it would after the many he had drank last night, and the night before, and the night before that, which he wasn’t sure if that were a blessing or a curse. Treace was disappointed that he didn’t see the waitress working again tonight, however. He had hoped she would be here so that he could apologize, although he admitted that it was only part of the reason. The smallest part, really. He knew he found her very attractive and he wanted to know if the kiss was real, or if it was because of the drink, though he didn’t know if she had partook or not. But he still didn’t know because she hadn’t been in for most of the week.

  “How much have you spent in the last few nights?” Treace asked Moff.

  “You let me worry about the finances.”

  “How much?”

  “Over a jin.”

  Treace nearly choked on his wine.

  “A jin?” Treace asked after he was finally able to swallow the drink.

  “Don’t worry. You have to buy drinks to get drinks. Trust me, this is what I do best.”

  “You know that I know you were fourteen when you entered the College, right?”

  “So?”

  “You want me to believe that you were throwing parties and getting drunk at the age of fourteen?”

  “Thirteen actually, and why not? You didn’t?”

  “My mother let me drink the wine that only the youngest children drank, nothing stronger.”

  “What about when you attended parties and events outside of your mother’s control.”

  “That never happened.”

  “Never?”

  “No, the only friends I had growing up were Exodin and Jensen,” Treace said.

  “The swordfighter and the smith?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were severely sheltered.”

  “How are we going to get information regarding the College?” Treace asked, changing the subject. His original plan was to be a smith. He hadn’t thought of new ways to bring up the subject in this setting yet.

  “Well, I thought we could tell a story about how you didn’t fit in and wanted to come to the wondrous city of Haven and see what life had to offer.”

  “Why didn’t I fit in?”

  “While you enjoy a good book, you couldn’t help but think that there was more out there for you. Something was missing and just didn’t feel right. We’ll let the listener come to their own conclusions and play off of that.”

  “I don’t understand how you became so good at this game,” Treace said.

  “While you were playing with swords, I was playing these games. We both became good at what we did. At least what I do doesn’t cut people’s heads off.”

  “No, it’s much more insidious.”

  Moff merely shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Treace supposed it really didn’t. They were both capable of badly hurting someone, Treace’s was physical, while Moff’s was psychological. Pain is pain regardless of how or what. Treace vowed it wouldn’t come to that. He would drop the façade before he let anyone get hurt, emotionally or physically.

  “Thanks for giving me a reason to smile the last few nights. It’s been awhile since that happened,” a man said, standing next to Treace. He didn’t notice the man had approached them.

  “It’s what we do,” Moff said, looking up at the man, smiling.

  “Well, I thank you for it, nonetheless.”

  “Treace,” he said, extending his hand. “And this is my friend Moff.”

  “Marn,” the man said, shaking both of their hands.

  “What’s been keeping you down?” Moff asked.

  “Same as everybody, I suspect,” Marn said.

  Treace motioned for Marn to sit next to him and twirled his finger high in the air, hoping the waitress would see it and bring them another round, including one for their new friend.

  “Please, continue,” Treace said and Marn took his seat.

  “Well, since the trade has pretty much stopped, most of us cargo traders have come under hard times. Several have converted their ships to fishing vessels, but not all. It’s still expensive to do so, and cargo crews don’t exactly make the best fishermen.”

  “Are you a ship captain?” Treace asked.

  “Used to be,” Marn told them. “But I docked my ship a few months ago and haven’t been back. I had to stop paying my crew after the first month, else I wouldn’t be able to feed my own family. Now I have ginger root coming out my ears.”

  “Sorry to hear that, friend,” Moff said.

  “It must have been difficult to let your crew go,” Treace said. “But what’s with the ginger?”

  “You have no idea how hard it was young man, you really don’t. As far as the ginger goes, it helps from getting sick at sea,” he said, and looked out the window and wouldn’t meet Treace’s eye, looking like the man was fighting back tears. Treace wished he knew about ginger a few years ago. He thought about the poor young man who was sick for most of the trip and smiled despite the situation at hand.

  “Well, then we hope to give you something to smile about again tonight,” Moff said, giving Treace a hard look.

  “Hope so,” the man said, apparently oblivious of the exchange between the two other men.

  The waitress must have seen Treace’s request because she brought out two glasses of wine and a mug of either ale or mead, Treace wasn’t sure which, but guessed Marn frequented the place since she didn’t bring him the same drink they were drinking.

  “Do you think the College could help out?” Treace dared to ask. Moff gave him a hard look, which he ignored.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, if I remember right, aren’t they pretty close to midway between both Haven and Kadenton?”

  “Yeah, so?” Moff said.

  “Well, if someone could convince them, maybe they would get goods from Haven and take them to Kadenton. Then they could do the opposite on the return,” Treace said.

  “Wouldn’t work,” the ship captain said. “Neither baron would agree to it, even if it wasn’t a direct trade. Besides, I doubt those brothers even know about our problems, or even if they did, who’s to say they’d take their noses out of their books long enough to help?”

  “You have a point,” Moff said, cutting Treace off with another hard look.

 
“Yeah, I didn’t think about that part,” Treace said.

  “Well, thanks for the drink boys, and for the chat. I’ll leave you to your drinking, maybe we’ll share some more laughs tonight.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Moff said.

  “One neither for nor against us,” Treace said when Marn was gone.

  “One down, thousands and thousands to go,” Moff said dryly.

  “We have to start somewhere.”

  Moff only shrugged.

  “Is that The Wolf?” a familiar voice said from behind Treace.

  Treace turned to find the smith standing in the doorway, smiling. Treace motioned for him to join them. He decided he would have to sit facing the door from now on; he didn’t like not knowing who was entering the room. Not that he thought he had enemies to be on the lookout for, he just didn’t like the feeling of not being in control.

  “You here drinking away more of your winnings?” the smith asked.

  “Is there any other way to celebrate such a decisive victory?” Moff asked.

  “I should think not,” the smith said, offering up a hearty laugh.

  “You think about my request?” Treace asked.

  “Like I said before, you show me some of your work, and we’ll talk. Speaking of,” the smith said. “Where’s those two swords we heard about the other night?”

  “With my two friends in Lake City,” Treace said, as if it were explanation enough.

  “Well, why doesn’t an expert swordsman wear his swords, either those or others?” the smith asked.

  “Yeah, why don’t you?” Moff asked, smiling.

  He was testing him, he knew it, but Treace was ready for this one. “I haven’t found the need or the reason to.”

  “Huh, tell that to my friend who was robbed between Kadenton and Kilindric last week,” the smith said.

  “That doesn’t happen that often though, does it?” Moff asked.

  “Used to not, but since the trade has pretty much stopped, someone has to bring the spices and dyes up from Kadenton. The bandits know it and have been attacking more and more merchants lately.”

  “The barons don’t stop the merchants that travel by road?” Moff asked.

  “They seem not to care too much about them. There aren’t enough of them to move that much cargo. It’s enough for thieves to take and sell for a hefty profit, though,” the smith told them.

  “Is your friend okay?” Treace asked.

  “He got cut pretty good, but he’ll live, even after the medical took his arm.”

  “Did he try to have the Onneron Brothers heal him?” Treace asked.

  “Don’t think so, but I can see why you’d ask. They can heal people can’t they,” the man said, rather than asked.

  “That’s the rumor,” Moff said.

  “Well, I don’t think he did. Even though there was a merchant a few months back who claimed to be healed by one of their brothers after he was injured trying to fix his wagon. The merchant came back to town praising the brotherhood like all of them were none other than Kaden himself.”

  Treace and Moff shared a knowing looking; Drevic had told Treace the story, which he shared with Moff.

  “So even after that merchant was healed, your friend didn’t ask for their help?” Treace asked.

  “Could you?” the smith asked.

  “I think I could, why wouldn’t I?” Treace asked.

  “Not sure I guess. But most folk don’t know too much about the brothers. They don’t really make themselves known and don’t encourage visitors. For being men of God, they don’t reach out to people. I guess maybe most think they aren’t welcome there,” the smith said. “I doubt I would be.”

  Treace knew exactly what he was saying about the order not being known. He didn’t know why he didn’t see it before. He supposed most of the nobles knew all about the College and what the brothers were capable of doing and what they would be willing to do, but he doubted the commoners would know. He was one of only a handful of students at the College who didn’t come from a wealthy family. As far as the part about being men of God, he didn’t really know what to think or what to say.

  “Enough about the dreary parts of our lives, let’s drink,” Moff said loudly.

  Both Treace and the smith raised their glasses, but Treace was deep in thought by that time. He knew he needed to add that to his research. Just over a week into his task and he already had a great point to bring up to the Archmagister. The brothers needed to be more visible in the cities. He envisioned the brothers traveling to each city and offering healing to those in need. He had no idea why that wasn’t already being done. That would be the first thing he brought up.

  “I wondered if you’d be back,” a familiar female voice said from behind him. Treace again vowed to sit facing the door from now on. He turned to the waitress, whose name he did not know, from the other night and she smiled when he stood up to greet her.

  “Hi,” he said. He wanted to say more, would have, but he found it hard to speak. Her light brown hair curled around her face and danced on her cheeks. It fell on the shoulders of her light blue dress that was long enough to brush the floor, but the top half was tight enough to show her every curve. The tops of her breasts pushed gently out of her dress. He knew he had seen more and larger cleavage from many other women, but he found hers very alluring. She began to blush at his gaze and he realized he was staring.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, all thoughts of the College long gone from his mind. “Sit, please.”

  She sat at the last seat at the table; between Moff and himself, and Treace barely paid the smith any attention when he excused himself from the table a moment later.

  “I thought you might not come back,” she said.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Treace asked.

  “After stealing a kiss like that, most men either try to take more, or just run away,” she said.

  Treace thought she might have rehearsed that before coming tonight and didn’t catch that she said he had stolen the kiss.

  “I didn’t do either,” Treace said, although he couldn’t say that for certain; he couldn’t remember much of the night in question. He felt like he was telling the truth, though.

  “I know you didn’t do the first,” she said. “So I was wondering if you’d do the latter.”

  “I’m here.”

  “You are,” she said, and took her eyes from his for the first time.

  “Hi Moffred,” she said.

  “Good evening, Sharrah,” Moff said, dipping a slight bow in his seat.

  “I was beginning to wonder if I would see you again,” Treace told her, drawing her attention back to him. “I haven’t seen you working in a while.”

  “It’s Brenna’s shift tonight,” she said. “And I’ve been busy lately.”

  “Well I’m glad you came here tonight,” he dared to say, drawing a blush from her.

  Treace wasn’t very wise in the ways where women were concerned, but he thought blushing was a good sign.

  “I think I will go check on our friend, the smith,” Moff said and left the table.

  “That is a lovely dress,” Treace said, ignoring Moff.

  “Thanks,” she said. “It’s one of my best ones.”

  “I agree, even though I haven’t seen the others.”

  “You are very sweet, aren’t you?”

  “I’m just me, I’m not sure if that means I’m sweet or not.”

  “And I thought it was just the wine talking that night,” she said.

  “About that,” he said. “I don’t remember a few things about that night.”

  “Can’t say that I’m surprised,” she said, smiling.

  “So if I offended you, or made an ass of myself, I apologize.”

  “You didn’t do either, although I accept your apology.”

  “If I didn’t do anything wrong, why are you accepting my apology?”

  “I never said you didn’t do anything wrong, I just said you didn’t offend me or ma
ke an ass of yourself,” she said.

  “I don’t understand,” Treace told her, but then realized he did. “You didn’t like the kiss?”

  “You stole a kiss from a woman that didn’t give it freely,” she explained, ignoring his question.

  “Oh, I understand, and I was right to apologize. You didn’t like it.”

  “I never said I didn’t like it,” she said, blushing again. “Only that it was stolen.”

  She looked over his shoulder toward the door and her face grew concerned.

  “Stolen from a woman who’s in a relationship,” she said quickly as Treace looked toward the door.

  He saw a young man, who was dressed far too nicely to be in this bar, talking with a few other men that were seated by the door. Treace recognized the table to be the one the guards were seated at most nights, including the night he stole the kiss. The young men looked familiar, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Treace felt his face flush. He felt very stupid and very small at that moment. He assumed she was dressed up for him, and only after seeing the young man at the door did he realize his mistake. She was waiting for her date, not here to see him. He went over their conversation quickly in his head and realized she blushed at his direct comments toward her. She wasn’t blushing because she enjoyed what he was saying; she was blushing because it made her uncomfortable. He wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

  Sharrah waved to get the nicely dressed young man’s attention and he walked over to the table.

  “So you must be The Wolf?” he said.

  “I am,” Treace said, unsure how this was going to go.

  “Well then I thank you,” he said, sticking out his hand.

  “For?” Treace asked, pausing his hand in mid extension.