Quest's end bk-3

by Brian S. Pratt

  “Welcome to Hylith,” the guard said. After Seth nodded in reply, the guard asked, “What business brings you to our fair city?”

  “We are seeking summer contracts for our master who is a trader in wines,” Seth replied. “We heard there were excellent vintages to be had here in Hylith.”

  The guard gazed back at the others behind Seth. His gaze lingered overlong on Kevik and his staff before returning to the twins.

  “We’ve heard of the troubles along the border between our two nations,” Seth said as an explanation for the rest. “We didn’t wish to be caught in a position where we were at the mercy of the more unscrupulous sort.”

  The guard nodded as he gazed at them one last time. Then he stepped aside and waved them through. “A good day to you,” he said.

  Seth got them moving and they were soon beyond the gate and into Hylith.

  Hylith was like every other city they’d ever been in. The architecture wasn’t all that different from what one would find back in Byrdlon. Even the people, except for their darker skin, could have been taken from the streets of Gilbeth or even Wardean.

  Bart moved up alongside the twins. “Let’s find an inn,” he said, “then you and I can do a little exploring before dark.”

  Seth nodded. They soon came to a three story building bearing a sign of a fish leaping from a body of water, which they were to find out was called The Leaping Cod. He and his brother went inside to see about rooms.

  Riyan and the rest dismounted while they were waiting for the return of the twins. He was quick to notice the stares directed at him and the others from the townsfolk. It didn’t seem as if the stares were hostile in nature, but Riyan was a bit self conscious under such scrutiny.

  Bart came up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “They’re just curious,” he said. “It’s unlikely anyone from Byrdlon makes it here very often.”

  “Considering what’s been going on,” replied Riyan, “I’d tend to agree.”

  One man, a guardsman by the leather armor and sword he bore, stood across the street. He’d been watching them ever since they stopped at the inn. His watchfulness bothered Riyan more than any of the others.

  The twins were only inside a few minutes before returning with news they had acquired rooms. On the way around back to stable their horses and mules, Seth said, “They actually had the nerve to suggest you guys stay in your rooms.”

  “Why?” asked Riyan.

  “Said that it would prevent trouble,” replied Soth.

  “What kind of trouble?” asked Bart.

  “They didn’t say,” Seth told him. “But we got the distinct impression they didn’t care too much about having those from Byrdlon staying here.”

  Chyfe got his back up at that. “What do they think we are? Thieves and murderers?” He glanced at Bart who was beginning to bristle at the comment, ‘thieves and murderers’. “Didn’t mean you of course.”

  “While we’re at the inn,” began Riyan, “staying in our rooms to avoid added complications wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. But…” turning to the twins he added, “you two shouldn’t be out without an escort.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Bart. “Just because you two look the part, doesn’t mean you’ll be safe.”

  Around back they stabled their horses then went upstairs to their rooms. Dinner was still an hour away and Bart planned for himself, Chyfe, and the twins to do a little reconnoitering before they ate. He wanted to get a feel for the area. So leaving Riyan, Chad, and Kevik in their rooms, the four left the inn and strolled around the immediate area.

  The area as it turned out was filled with businesses and two townhouses. People on the street cast glances toward Bart and Chyfe, but otherwise left them alone. To Bart’s trained eye, it was easy to see those working the marks on the street. In the short block they had walked from the inn, he had seen two separate groups at work. One was of three small children. While two pretended to fight, the third came in behind the onlookers and lifted some goods out of a lady’s basket. He wasn’t able to see what the lad had taken, but it was most likely food.

  The other group was a little more sophisticated. It comprised of three older lads and a young girl of about thirteen. When the mark came near the group, two of the boys took the girl by the arms and she began screaming. Of course the mark, who was a wealthy merchant, paused to see what was going on. Then from behind, the third boy reached into his pocket and snatched his purse while he was distracted. As soon as the boy began moving away from the merchant, the two lads who were holding the girl allowed her to ‘escape’ and then chased her down an ally. All in all it was neatly done.

  Bart smiled as the merchant, who had no idea he had been fleeced, resumed moving down the street. Oh the memories…There had been many a time when he had taken part in similar activities in his youth. His mind wandered as he reminisced about times long past. Then he felt an almost imperceptible tug on his belt.

  Snapping out of his reverie, Bart spun and grasped the wrist of a small child who couldn’t have been more than six. The eyes of the child widened in fear and the boy looked on the brink of screaming for help.

  “You scream and I’ll kill you where you stand,” Bart whispered in his most intimidating voice.

  Choking back the cry, the child stared with eyes quickly filling with tears. Though only six, the child must have known what would happen to him should he be caught in the act of thieving.

  “What’s going on Bart?” asked Chyfe. He and the twins were looking questioningly at the boy he held.

  “Caught a thief in the act,” he said. “And a bad one at that.” From the corner of his eyes, Bart saw two older boys watching from a neighboring storefront. He then locked eyes with the boy he clutched and asked, “Those two boys over there working with you?”

  With a quick shake of his head, the child said in a tone full of fear, “N…n…no sir.” Bart could hear the falsehood in his voice.

  “What are you going to do with him?” asked Seth.

  Whatever he was going to do he had best do it soon. The fact that he grasped the hand of the boy was beginning to be noticed by others on the street. “I’m not going to turn him in if that’s what you’re asking,” Bart said. He then thought of a way this may work in their favor.

  At hearing he may not be handed over to the authorities, the boy relaxed a little.

  “I could use the help of you and your two friends over there,” he said, giving a brief nod to the two boys who continued to watch. “You know the inn called The Leaping Cod?”

  The boy hesitated a moment then nodded.

  “Bring your two friends there in the morning,” he said. “That is if you would like to make a silver each?”

  The boy’s eyes widened at that. A silver was a veritable fortune for one such as he. He nodded vigorously.

  Bart let go of his arm. “Come by an hour after dawn,” he said then turned his back on the boy. “Let’s go,” he said to the others.

  Chyfe glanced behind Bart just as the boy raced away toward his two comrades standing against the storefront. “What do you plan to do?” he asked.

  “They know this town,” he said. “If anyone can help us, it’s them.”

  Resuming their walk, Bart continued taking in the buildings and people. ‘Always have a way out,” his father had repeatedly told him. ‘Many a thief has tried to run only to be caught in a dead ended alley’. Whenever Bart was in a strange area, the first thing he did was get a lay of the land. That way if the worst should happen, he would know the best way to flee.

  They returned to the inn by the time the sun had gone down. Aside from getting a lay of the land, they had also been on the lookout for wine merchants but hadn’t seen any. Tomorrow, they’ll have more daylight with which to search. And maybe, they’ll even have a little help.

  The following morning, found them gathered together in the common room for breakfast despite the fact they knew their presence wasn’t entirely wanted. Riyan wond
ered if this animosity toward them was a hold over from centuries ago when Byrdlon had tried to reclaim their lost land by annexing The Moran Tribes. Or maybe something more recent?

  “Do you think those kids are going to show?” Chyfe asked Bart.

  “Yes I do,” he said. “And for two reasons. One, I didn’t give the boy to the guards. And two, their desire to know if I was serious about the promised silver will be too great.”

  “I don’t know if that would be enough for me to trust a foreigner that I tried to steal from,” commented Riyan.

  “Trust me,” Bart said. “I know these kids better than any of you.” And by the time they were finished eating, he saw a small face peering in through one of the windows. It was the boy who had tried to lift his coin pouch. He nodded to the boy then rose to his feet.

  “They’re here,” he told the others. “The rest of you stay inside while I talk with them.” Leaving the table, he crossed the common room to the front door and passed outside. There he found the boy.

  “Where’s your two friends?” he asked.

  “They’re around,” the boy replied.

  Bart nodded and quickly glanced around. Across the street he saw the two boys watching from the mouth of an alley. “What’s your name son?”

  “They call me Runt,” he replied.

  Bart grinned. “Well Runt, I could use the assistance of someone who knows Hylith,” he stated.

  “What kind of assistance?” Runt inquired.

  “Nothing dangerous or that will get you in trouble I assure you,” he stated. Pulling a small piece of parchment from inside his shirt, he handed it to Runt. Last night, he had cajoled Kevik into parting with a piece of his parchment so he could copy the crest that was on the wine bottle.

  Runt took the piece of parchment and looked at the crest depicted there.

  “Have you seen that before?” he asked.

  Runt nodded. “It’s the River Man’s,” he said.

  “The River Man?” Bart prompted, though he already knew the answer.

  “That’s what most people call him,” Runt said. “Don’t know why.”

  Bart nodded. Glancing around, he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently directed him to move further down the side of the inn so they wouldn’t be in close proximity to the door.

  “Do you know where I could find him?” asked Bart.

  “Uh huh,” the boy replied. Then he pointed to the tall spires of the castle. “He lives there.”

  Bart had been afraid of that. “Really?” he asked, feigning disbelief. “I thought he would have been a wine merchant.”

  The boy looked at him quizzically. “What made you think that?” he asked.

  “I’m working with agents of a wine merchant who are here to procure a contract for a certain wine he had been told may be on the market now,” he explained. Taking the piece of parchment from the boy he added, “This crest was on the bottle.”

  “Don’t know anything about that,” the boy stated.

  “Are there any wine merchants nearby?” Bart asked.

  “Most of the better ones are near the castle,” he explained. “I heard that Torrim’s was supposed to be one of the best.”

  Bart nodded. “Thanks,” he said. He dug into his pocket and gave the boy a silver.

  “Hey,” the boy objected. “I thought we’d each get one!”

  Bart glanced over to where the boy’s two buddies were still standing. “If they want a silver, then they better be the one’s talking to me.” He glanced back to the boy, “Are you going to be around?”

  “Maybe,” replied Runt. “Why?”

  “Might need your help again,” he said.

  “I’ll be around,” Runt said. “If you don’t see me, ask around and I’ll hear.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that,” agreed Bart.

  At that, Runt scampered off toward his two friends and Bart returned to the inn. There he told the others what he had learned.

  “So,” asked Chyfe in a barely audible whisper, “are we going to sneak into the castle now?”

  Bart shook his head. “Not we, me,” he responded quietly. “You and the others find this wine merchant and play the part of agents. Learn what you can about the River Man and the crest,” he told him. “In the meantime, I’ll poke around the castle.”

  A short time later, they were heading down to the castle area. Once they were close, Bart took his leave of the others. He had already donned his Cloak but had yet to activate its concealing magics. Disappearing down a side alley, he was soon out of sight.

  “Hope he doesn’t get himself killed,” commented Chyfe.

  “He knows what he’s doing,” Riyan said. “Now, let’s find that merchant.” Having been told the shop was somewhere near the castle, they made inquiries and it wasn’t long before they stood before the shop of the wine merchant Torrim.

  It was very high scale, as were all of the shops and residences in this area. Being so close to the castle, they had to be as they more than likely catered to the nobility. The people on the streets were dressed very fine, most having servants in attendance. Finely constructed carriages rode upon the cobblestone streets, the occupants having an air of self importance.

  Soth took the lead as they approached the door to the wine merchant’s shop. The bottle of wine bearing the crest rested in his pack. Being the more amiable of the twins, it had fallen to Soth to be their spokesman.

  The front door to the shop was of carved wood and very sturdy. Opening it, they found the inner walls to be lined with shelves bearing row after row of wine bottles. There were six freestanding racks containing a variety of wine bottles as well. A guard was positioned to either side of the door and as Soth entered, they gave him a once over. As each of the others entered, they too were given a visual inspection. Deciding they were no immediate threat, the guards remained where they were.

  As they entered, Soth examined the bottles of wines on the nearest freestanding rack. He was no connoisseur of wines, but they looked valuable. His brother nudged his shoulder. “Over there,” Seth said, pointing to an elderly man sitting at a table. There were three tables situated in an open area on the far side of the room. The man was the only one there.

  Soth nodded and made his way over. Behind him, one of the guards shut the door as Kevik, who was bringing up the rear, entered.

  An open bottle of wine sat on the table before the man, a wine glass a third of the way full was held in his hand. He looked up as Soth approached, and set his glass on the table next to the wine bottle.

  “Are you the wine merchant Torrim?” Soth asked.

  The man remained in his seat and nodded. “I am he,” he replied. “Is there something I can help you gentlemen with?”

  Soth nodded and then indicated the chair across the table from the wine merchant. When he received a nod to go ahead, he sat. The others, including his brother, remained standing behind him.

  “We are looking into the possibilities of acquiring a contract for a specific wine,” he explained. “Come spring when our master’s caravan is once more upon the road, he hoped to be able to travel here and purchase wine at a reasonable price.”

  “Hmmm,” murmured Torrim. “You’d do best by going straight to the wineries if such is your desire. I cater more to the individual wine connoisseur.”

  “Yes,” Soth replied. “We realize that, but at present we are not sure where to go or with whom to talk.” He sat his pack on the table before him and removed the bottle. “My master acquired this bottle of wine from a merchant in Kendruck. He was struck by the strength of its flavor and thought there may be a market for it among his regular clients.” Setting the bottle before the wine merchant, he waited expectantly.

  Torrim’s eyes widened slightly at first sight of the bottle. That he recognized it was clear. “You wish to procure a quantity of Guerloch?” he asked.

  “A contract for such, yes,” agreed Soth. “Would you know with whom we would need to speak?”

  “Yes
,” replied Torrim, “though I’m not sure if that knowledge would do you much good.”

  “Why is that?” asked Soth.

  “Guerloch is a special brew,” he explained. “Only one winery that I know of makes it. And such is the secrecy behind the making of Guerloch, that the actual location of the winery is a closely guarded secret.”

  “Surely there must be a trader or agent in town where one could arrange for a shipment of Guerloch,” Soth said.

  “There is,” he replied. “But like I said, that knowledge won’t do you any good.” When he saw Seth’s face grow into a grimace, he explained. “The one with whom you would need to arrange such a contract resides in the castle. His name is Lord Honni. Last year, his son was killed during a border skirmish with Byrdlon’s soldiers. He’s unlikely to listen to anything you have to say.”

  “And he’s the only one with which we could secure a contract for Guerloch?” asked Riyan.

  Torrim glanced to Riyan in surprise for having spoken. “I’m afraid so,” the wine maker replied.

  “I see,” Soth said. Standing up, he extended his hand which was taken by Torrim. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with us.”

  Torrim shook Soth’s hand then nodded. “Any time,” he replied.

  Soth turned and made to leave the wine merchant’s establishment. One of the guards opened the door for them as they passed through into the street. Once the door was closed behind them, Chyfe asked, “Now what?”

  “We return to the inn and wait for Bart’s return,” Riyan stated. “After that we’ll figure something out. Maybe arrange a meeting with this Lord Honni despite what Torrim said.” With the others following, he led them through the streets back to the inn. He hoped Bart was having better luck.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Before the gates leading into the castle area was a large plaza. Aside from the aesthetic value such would give the area, Bart could tell that in the event of an attack, it would also provide the castle defenders a clear killing field.