Rawk catalogued his new pains. “Nothing serious,” he said eventually. “A few cuts and slices that I can handle.”
“If you are sure.”
Rawk nodded and watched as Sylvia rewrapped her scarf tighter around her face again. “That looks good,” he said.
She eyed him suspiciously.
“I mean it.”
“Well, thank you, I guess. The scarves started as a method used to protect laborers from sippon pollen but became both fashion and symbol over the centuries.”
“Sippon pollen?”
“It grows in my mother’s village. It is not just a drug; it can be used for many things.”
“If you say so. Anyway, I’ve got to go find Weaver; he’s probably already ordered potato stew for me.”
-O-
Rawk sat down with a grateful sigh.
“Busy morning?” Weaver said. He was wearing a remarkably somber jacket with a wide brimmed leather hat pulled down low over his face. There was no wig or fake beard in sight.
“There’s no rest for Heroes at the moment.”
“I know. And I hear you’re paying some to stand on corners and what-not waiting for trouble, instead of congregating in taverns where they can’t help anyone.”
Rawk shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea.”
“It won’t bring her back, you know.”
“So I’m told.”
“It’s hard when you lose someone you love.”
“I didn’t love her, Weaver.”
“You didn’t? Then what’s the problem?” The prince slapped Rawk’s knee. “Stop wasting your money on these Heroes.”
“Stop wasting money? People are dying.” Rawk sat back, moving his leg so Weaver was forced to take his hand away.
“I know. I know. I didn’t mean we shouldn’t help people.”
“I’m actually getting some more organized so they can cover south of the river as well.”
“Now that’s totally ridiculous.”
“Who’ll build your damn canal if all the dwarves are killed or hiding in their houses?”
“They think they know everything.” Weaver pouted. “Let them come up with an idea for this.”
Rawk watched the prince for a moment. “I’m sure they will. But until then, I’ll pay for some Heroes to help.”
Weaver shrugged. “So, what are you going to get for lunch?”
“You haven’t ordered yet?”
“Of course not.”
“Of course not?”
“I hear they do a great shepherd’s pie here.”
That was just organized potato stew. Rawk sighed. “That’ll do, then. I still need more fruit too.”
Weaver made a signal and Rawk turned to see a big, lumbering man rise from a chair and make his way to the bar to order. Rawk had never seen him before.
“Who’s that?”
Weaver waved his fingers. “Bocco. Or Bocca. Or something. He’s new. I’m not sure if I like him much; I don’t like his attitude.”
“Maybe he doesn’t like being a waitress.”
“Too bad for him.”
“Well, he’ll be happier tomorrow when you send him out to find the sorcerers,” Rawk said.
“What?”
“You’re supposed to be taking over the search for the sorcerers tomorrow. Remember?” Rawk cursed himself silently. If he’d kept his mouth shut Weaver might have forgotten all about it.
“Oh, right. Yes. Of course.”
Rawk shrugged. “I can keep going if you want.”
“No, that’s all right. It’s about time I took control.”
“Then I think I’ll move all my Heroes south of the river tomorrow.”
Weaver narrowed his eyes. “The people won’t like that.”
“I’m sure my men will just get in the way; you’re taking control, remember?”
The prince’s thoughts quickly turned back to more important matters. “It’s going to cost me a fortune.”
Rawk shrugged. “The money isn’t important.”
“Not until you don’t have any.”
Rawk pulled out spoon. “There will always be things that are more important than money.” He polished the metal, then the bone handle.
“Like love?”
“I didn’t love her.”
“I know, but...”
“Yes, Weaver, like love.”
The pies arrived and Rawk got to sit quietly and eat after having gotten in the final word. It wouldn’t last, of course, but he could enjoy the moment.
When he was done, Rawk sat back and waved for the waitress so he could get some fruit.
“So, how is you search going?” Weaver asked when they were alone again. “Find any sorcerers yet?”
“As a matter of fact I have.”
The prince looked a bit surprised. “Really?” He chewed on his fingernail for a moment.
“There was magic flying everywhere. Ladies diving for cover. Children screaming.”
“Just like old times.”
“Not quite.”
Weaver’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“Well, I didn’t kill them.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I asked them some questions, then let them go.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes I did.”
“But I heard about Valo.”
“What about him?”
“You killed him.”
Rawk sighed. “He died of a heart attack. I just happened to be there.”
“Really? So, do you have any information I can pass on to Ramaner?”
“No.”
“That isn’t helpful.” Weaver tapped his fingers on the table for a moment. He glanced at the door. “Anyway, I should go and do some work, I suppose, get Ramaner organized and what-not.”
“I suppose. I need to get my men organized as well.”
“You’re wasting your money.” And Weaver left, having gotten in the last word.
Rawk started peeling an orange.
-O-
Rawk saw Fabi sitting on a porch, taking slices off an apple with a huge hunting knife. He wandered across to the big black man and sat down by his side.
“I thought you were going to come and have a drink with me,” Rawk said.
Fabi chewed his apple for a minute, staring out at the customers rushing between the large, dusty stalls of the grain market. “I went up there twice, but you were always out somewhere. I even found out where one of your regular lunch spots was but you weren’t there.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
A wagon creaked by. It was piled high with bulging sacks that left a musty smell in their wake.
Fabi shrugged. “Women will do that to you.” Then he looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry about Maris.”
Rawk watched as he took another slice from the apple.
“Anyway, boss, what can I do for you?”
“Boss? You aren’t one of Frew’s guys, are you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought I told you to get a different job.”
“You did. And I did. But the merchant I was working for up and died after only a week.”
“You let someone get to him?”
“Of course not. I think he was 120 years old or something. He died in his sleep.”
“A shame.”
“Yeah. So anyway, here I am.”
“Here you are. But I’m getting everyone to go over to the south of the river as soon as possible. Everyone who isn’t already there. I was going to tell Frew but I have no idea where to find him.”
“I think he’s down near the river somewhere. He thinks there will be more action down there, for some reason.”
“Well, he’s got more information than me.”
“That’s what I thought; he’s just hoping. We’ll be meeting tonight at the Veterans’ Club. I can pass on the message, if you like.”
“You don’t mind working down south?”
“That dwarf...” Fabi scratched th
e side of his nose, looking embarrassed.
Rawk nodded. “I know. His name was Jargo.”
“Jargo?”
Another nod. “His wife and daughter are going to be staying in Galad’s old room.”
“The one he was buying?”
“Yes. I’m buying it now.”
“I think he’d like that.”
Rawk laughed. “I’m not so sure. He didn’t like dwarves much at all.”
“Me either.”
Rawk sighed. “Me either. But they aren’t so bad, really.” Rawk was going to say something else. He was going to say, You know, some of them are all right, but a scream from the other side of the market robbed him of the opportunity. He looked at Fabi. Fabi looked at him. And they both jumped to their feet and hurried against the sudden tide of the crowd. They rounded a blue striped awning that was missing a pole at the corner. They dodged past barrows of rice, between stacks of corn and bags of flour. A barrel of wheat had toppled over sending a dune of golden grain across the walkway. Here, they skidded to a halt in an oasis of calm.
The exot was fifteen feet tall and as ugly as a Maltessan sailor. Its blue feathers, from hands to huge shoulders, were covered in blood. The sword and shield were painted scarlet as well. Whatever had supplied the blood was no longer in evidence. The creature looked around with cold, black eyes.
Rawk looked at Fabi. “There’s only one,” he said. “I think you should take it.”
Fabi looked at him.
“You wouldn’t want to have to split your claim, would you?”
“I’m not a greedy man, Rawk. I like to share.”
“I thought you were going to say that.” Rawk took a deep breath and drew his sword.
“What the hell is that?”
Rawk looked the creature up and down. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen one before.”
“No, that sword. It’s terrible.”
“Oh, right. It’s Slade, the first sword I ever had.” Why hadn’t he gone down to the cellar to find a better sword like Travis has suggested? “Yes, it looks terrible, but it’s actually pretty good.”
“Well, it had better be.”
A small crowd was starting to gather at what it thought was a safe distance, but Rawk had to wonder if anywhere in the city was safe.
“Any ideas?” Fabi asked. He had his own two handed sword out and had moved a few paces to the side.
“Kill it quick.”
“I like the sound of that plan. Details would be nice though.”
“There’s supposed to be details?” Rawk licked his lips as he examined the creature, trying to imagine a weakness. “I should point out that my plans haven’t been working out all that well recently.”
“You’re still alive.”
“Yes. I suppose.”
“Come on then.”
Rawk really didn’t want to attack, but he wasn’t going to have a choice. He looked at his sword. He really didn’t want to attack. The blade was shorter than he was used to. The hilt felt strange in his hand, heavy. But Fabi was circling around further, slow and watchful, his own sword at the ready. With a sigh, Rawk went the other direction.
The creature sprang towards him, swinging its sword in a complex pattern. Rawk froze. Then he tried to follow the blade’s movement. All within a moment. He set himself, breathed, let himself go, and blocked. Once, twice. He danced away, hand aching, arm shuddering from the blows.
Fabi came in from the other side. He was fast for a big man, but the exot turned and used its shield to knock aside the first attack. It spun around to counter and Rawk shook off his pain to move in behind. The creature was expecting that, waiting for it, and came back around, sword flashing. Rawk ducked. He tried to attack a feathered leg but he slipped on the spilled grain underfoot and missed. He ended up on one knee and might have ended there permanently but Fabi was lunging in. His attack was deflected again. He grunted and backed away but the creature was focused on him for the moment.
“I can’t get close, Rawk.”
“Path, damn it.” Rawk’s arm was still dull from the blows he’d taken earlier. His knee ached. He put his hand on the ground to steady himself, to rise to his feet, and felt the grain beneath his fingers.
Fabi feinted and backed away some more. The exot turned back to Rawk and charged.
Rawk pushed himself to his feet, and flung a handful of grain. He wasn’t sure if the distraction worked for he was already diving forward, low to the ground. He jarred his shoulder when he landed, rolled, and slashed.
Contact. Rawk came to his feet and ran, continuing in the same direction, trying to put some distance between himself and the danger, expecting a sword in his back at any moment. He saw Fabi going past him, heading the other way, and managed to stop. When he turned around, he saw his companion ramming his long sword up under the exot’s rib cage. He twisted the blade before pulling it free and danced away to avoid being crushed.
The creature died silently, which was about the most horrible thing Rawk had ever heard in his life. A life and death battle was not supposed to evaporate quietly like that. The passing of life on the point of a sword was supposed to be a noisy, screaming affair. But the fight was over and that was that, apparently.
Rawk sat down in the wheat as the crowd started to emerge from amongst the stalls. The cheering grew as a trickle of blood started to follow the straight lines of the cobbles, moving slowly towards the buildings beside the market.
“We should remember that,” Fabi said, coming to slump down by Rawk’s side.
“Remember what?”
“A lot of these creatures may not have seen some of the things that we think of as pretty basic.”
Rawk grunted.
“Throwing something in its face. We wouldn’t fall for something like that.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it was allergic to wheat.”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
It was getting hard to ignore the noise from the crowd. Rawk sighed and managed to get back on his feet without looking too much like an old man. He smiled and raised his sword. People rushed forward to ask him questions and slap him on the back. He wanted them to go away. They wouldn’t. He knew they wouldn’t, even if he asked. At least they weren’t throwing nuts.
The exot continued to bleed.
Rawk wondered how he would feel if he suddenly found himself on a strange world. Would he assume the locals were friendly? Or would he be a bit concerned by all the shouting and screaming and running? Would he try to talk to the people who came along and attacked him? Or would he defend himself first and try to work out what was going on later?
Rawk answered some questions but the crowd could tell he really didn’t want to be there. A few of them at the back continued to shout but most fell to a confused, uncomfortable muttering.
“I must be going,” Rawk said eventually. He gave a half-hearted wave and pushed through the crowd with Fabi following behind. Out in the clear, he stopped to breath. The crowd was dispersing, disappointed by the strange end to the event. One man stared accusingly at Rawk as he wandered away, muttering to himself and shaking his head.
“I killed some little hairy thing yesterday,” Fabi said. “It had big claws and teeth but was as slow as winter in the north. But when I was done, the crowd kind of wandered away without saying much at all.”
“They see exots being killed every day now, just about.”
“But you turn up and they’re all over you.”
Rawk nodded. “I know.”
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m going home. I’m sore and tired. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up.”
“You’re getting old.”
“I’m already old. The trouble is, I’m running out of time.” He got his bearings and started for home. “You can keep the whole claim.”
Rawk walked slowly up the hill and nobody bothered him. Perhaps people didn’t want him to drop dead while they were talking to him, as if they mig
ht be to blame. When he reached the Hero’s Rest he looked at the new doorway. Gabbo was standing nearby, leaning on a mallet and looking pleased with himself.
The dwarf smiled. “Rawk. We’re done.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“So, I can go down there?”
“If you want.”
Rawk did want. It looked great. Not only had they made a door through the stone wall, they’d added a fancy, carved timber doorframe and a solid, iron bound door. He went over and opened the door. It swung open silently to reveal a yard of passage then a polished stone staircase. A small building had been constructed to protect the stairs from the elements.
“You don’t do things by halves, do you?”
“Never.” Gabbo cleared his throat and looked around. As ever, where ever Rawk went there were people following and watching. They still weren’t actually talking to him though and now that he was talking to a dwarf they were stating to look a bit confused. “Do you know where Travis is? I had a friend make something and I wanted to show him. It’s kinda just a sample of Feb’s work.” The dwarf picked up a hessian-wrapped bundle that was leaning against the wall and held it out. It was almost a yard long and heavy.
Rawk removed the wrapping and discovered a sign carved into a slab of same timber as the doorframe. “THE VAULT”.
“Grint told me the reason for the stairs so if I can just get Travis to tell me the name I can have a proper one made up. If he wants.” He came around to examine the sign himself.
Rawk smiled. “How much does something like this cost?”
“Feb’s just starting out and would be pleased at the exposure, if people just go around mentioning his name.”
“Well, personally, I think this is a perfect name. I like the double meaning; a basement and a safe. I think Travis will love it too.” Rawk looked around too. “I think it would be best to put it on then wall now, that way Travis can get a proper feel for it.” And it was free.
Rawk looked at the doorframe again, smiled and made his way down the stairs.
Things were moving along nicely down there as well. There was a small stage being built in one corner and a completed bar in another. There were already five ale barrels lined up in racks, waiting to be tapped. A couple of workers were arranging tables and chairs.
A History of Magic Page 21