by T. H. Lain
But Regdar turned it back on him by supporting the paladin.
"She came," he said again, a little louder. "She came alone when she heard you were in need." He started to walk forward toward Alhandra, but the knight didn't turn. "She traveled miles alone, not for pay, but because she'd heard 'there was trouble away south'—her own words."
Regdar stopped just short of the platform, but didn't climb up to the paladin. He was tall enough that everyone in the crowd could see both of them. He looked her up and down for a moment, the crowd mimicking him, and even Eoghan's eyes followed his.
"We wouldn't be here to hold this debate if it hadn't been for her. An ogre—the orcs' leader—had us dead to rights, when Alhandra, who we'd never met, never talked to, never promised gold," he added with some emphasis, "came riding down and slew him." Regdar threw up his hands. "This woman saved our lives, and stopped the last of the raiders, once and for all. If there's any justice," he concluded, "that, at least, earns her a chance to speak."
With that, Regdar lowered his hands, pausing briefly to put one gauntlet on the edge of the hay porch, near Alhandra's armored foot. She hadn't moved during his speech, but she looked down at his hand, then back up at Eoghan, who still had something to say.
"Regdar," the innkeeper answered with exaggerated care, "no one is questioning your valor or trying to diminish the efforts of you and your companions." He nodded to the fighter and some of the flush started to drain out of his face, but his eyes still flashed and it was obvious he hadn't given up. "If you say this paladin performed valorously in the field, we have no reason to doubt you." He looked around and many heads nodded in agreement. "But—" and he raised his hand, attracting the nodders' attention again—"you are no longer in the field. We caught this orc spying around our southern borders. The outriders that you yourself said we should have on patrol caught him, and we aren't gonna just let him go!" Eoghan's voice rose again, not with anger, but resolve.
"Yes, you are." Alhandra stated matter-of-factly.
She put her hand to the hilt of her sword but didn't draw it. All eyes followed that slight gesture, but Naull realized it wasn't a threat. The sword, as much as the emblem on her chest, was a symbol of her god. She touched it for strength, for support, for divine guidance—or whatever paladins get from their deities.
Naull's tired mind raced. She looked to Regdar but he seemed to be wrestling internally with the same thoughts as her. They'd been hired to protect these people against raiders that turned out to be orcs. Now they were in the position of backing a stranger—albeit a paladin who just happened to have saved their lives—against those self-same villagers.
Then Naull had a thought.
"Alhandra!" she called out. "Paladin!" she cried with emphasis, dashing forward into the crowd.
Faces turned. Eoghan didn't quite turn away from Alhandra, but the paladin herself looked straight at Naull.
"Alhandra," Naull said when she reached Regdar's side. "I know something of paladins and divine magic." Regdar looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. She didn't look at him, but he remembered his own words about backing each other up. "Isn't it true that you can feel—sense—evil?"
Alhandra nodded slowly, and Naull thought she saw a small expression of discomfort on the paladin's face.
"It's true," she said at last.
"So if you examine this prisoner, couldn't you tell us if he's evil or not?"
Alhandra didn't answer immediately. She stood, obviously wrestling with some thought or other but Eoghan didn't wait for her to ponder.
"Is this true, paladin?" he asked. "Can you tell us whether it's a creature of evil?"
"I could," Alhandra said at last.
The crowd seemed to relax. More than a few of the villagers had heard stories of paladins and their holy abilities. Even Eoghan lowered his mace and considered the point. If Alhandra said she could do what Naull suggested, the crowd would obviously like to see it.
But Alhandra didn't relax. She looked up at Eoghan, then slowly turned toward the crowd.
"I could," she declared, her voice grim and cold. "I could examine him and tell you whether the dark taint of evil stains his soul. I could do that for anyone and everyone you brought to me, unless they were protected by powerful magic. I could sit in judgment of anyone you wish. Do you want me to do that?"
Murmuring, the crowd didn't seem to like the sound of that at all. Naull didn't either, but she felt a little betrayed. She'd just offered Alhandra a way out of the mess, and the paladin had rejected it.
"Eoghan ..." the paladin said to the innkeeper, so gently the man started. "You are a good man. I could tell that were I not a paladin. You and your village have ruled yourselves and worked to obey the laws of the land without hurting others for generations. You don't need me to tell you how to do that, do you?"
The innkeeper stared at the paladin, almost in shock, then he lowered his head and shook it. The loose apron swung stiffly, almost like a wide pendulum, and a deep, rumbling, sardonic chuckle came from the man. He looked up again, an uneven smile on his face.
"Paladin ... Alhandra, is it?" She nodded back at him. "Y'don't offer easy answers, do ya?"
A few people in the crowd actually laughed.
"The only easy answers are to questions not worth asking," Alhandra said, smiling slightly.
Oh, please, Naull thought, rolling her eyes. But she grinned, too. The crisis seemed over.
"All right, all right," Eoghan said, surrendering. "Cut 'im down!" he called to the guard nearest the hanging figure.
She moved immediately to the prisoner and started to work on the ropes around his wrists. The other guard worked the pulley and lowered the prisoner onto the hay porch.
"Y' don't mind if we ask him some questions, now do ya?" Eoghan asked.
"Of course not," Alhandra agreed, "but he should be treated in a humane manner."
"Well... I guess we could put 'im in the inn's root cellar. That's served as a bit of a jail from time to time—but somebody'll have to watch him. I'm not putting him down there with my provender, all alone!"
"I will watch him. I do not say this man is innocent of any crime," Alhandra assured the innkeeper and the crowd, "but he should not be treated as if he is a raider until it can be proven."
Eoghan nodded and stuck his mace in his wide belt. Reaching around, he tied the apron strings behind him. He looked to Naull and Regdar much as he had the night they rode into town. He acted like it too, instructing his guards to place the half-orc in a nearby wagon along with his gear, which lay in a pile nearby, and take him to the inn.
"I'd be feelin' a little safer if you rode along, my lady," he said to Alhandra.
"I will," she said.
"Can you give Ian a ride, too?" Naull asked from below the hay porch. Most of the crowd started back to their homes or nearby farms when Eoghan and Alhandra agreed to terms, and the half-elf looked alone and tired leaning against the fence post. "He's still pretty beat up."
"Still?" Eoghan said, climbing down from the porch.
"Alhandra cured him," Regdar said. "He nearly died."
The innkeeper caught the grim tone of the fighter's voice. He looked around.
"Trebba?" he asked. Regdar shook his head and Eoghan frowned. "And the dwarf, Yurgen?" Regdar shook his head again. "Damn!"
Eoghan stared at the wagon as it rolled away toward Ian with Krusk and Alhandra inside.
"I'm glad I didna' know that before all this. That one might not o' survived to be bickered over!"
"Honestly, Eoghan," Naull interjected, "he couldn't have been part of the raiders' group."
I hope, she added silently.
When they reached the inn proper, Eoghan sent Straw to tend Alhandra's war-horse and both Naull and Regdar helped Alhandra carry their prisoner down into the root cellar.
"He's a big one, isn't he?" Regdar said, huffing a little on the stairs.
The half-orc stood more than six feet tall, Naull could tell as they laid him out on th
e cellar floor. He had the long, well-muscled but irregular-looking arms common to orcs, but his broad chest and flat features hinted at his human heritage.
It was, however, a slight hint. Naull could see how the villagers mistook him for an orc, especially considering how few of them had ever seen a live orc up close.
"Let's get him cleaned up," Naull said.
Alhandra nodded and fetched a basin of water and a towel from upstairs. When she returned she found Regdar and Naull looking over the half-orc's belongings.
"Find anything interesting?" she asked with intended humor.
Both of them jumped slightly, almost like guilty children. She grinned.
"I didn't think paladins were supposed to have a sense of humor," Naull observed dryly.
Alhandra didn't answer, but an amused smile made the corners of her mouth twitch. She knelt and started cleaning the half-orc's wounds. Surprisingly, he didn't seem badly hurt. A shallow cut across his scalp produced most of the blood. His left eye was swollen but undamaged.
"He's dehydrated. It looks as if he hasn't eaten much in days," the paladin observed finally. "He's out from exhaustion, not wounds."
Regdar yawned.
"He's not the only one," Naull observed. Regdar started to jab her with an elbow but she backed out of the way. "Not with your new armor!" she said, indicating the spikes.
"You two get some sleep," Alhandra said. "I'll look after the prisoner."
Regdar nodded and started up the stairs.
"I'll take these—temporarily," he said, picking up the half-orc's weapons. The rest of his gear lay in a dirty pile on one of the shelves. "Make sure they wake us before they start questioning him, though, all right?"
"I don't think they'll do anything to him now," Alhandra said.
"I just think there's something . . ." But Regdar's mumbling turned to a yawn as he continued up the stairs.
Naull remained behind for a few moments, watching Alhandra clean the half-orc.
"You'll need more water," she said finally.
Alhandra nodded in answer.
"Alhandra," Naull said.
The paladin paused at her labors and looked up. The wizard pushed her bangs back and shook her head against the growing fatigue.
"Even if... and I say 'if'... this half-orc isn't one of the raiders, who's to say he isn't up to something?"
"Everybody's up to something, Naull," the paladin said, but without amusement.
"You know what I mean. He could still be evil, you know. Maybe a murderer, or a bandit or something. There are some strange things in his gear..." Her voice trailed off.
The paladin stood and looked at Naull. Her clear, blue eyes glistened in the dim light of the nearby lanterns as they met the wizard's. Alhandra's simple beauty struck a slight chord of jealousy in the wizard's heart, but she leaned forward, as if confiding in a friend.
"He isn't evil," she whispered.
Naull flushed and asked with a trace and of anger, "Wha—I thought you said you wouldn't use your ability to check him?"
The small smile was back, and Naull felt the flash of anger drain away involuntarily. It was like trying to be angry with a sister, and she'd known the paladin for less than a day!
"I didn't say I wouldn't examine him, only that the villagers should treat him fairly. I looked into his aura the moment I saw him." She looked down at the unconscious half-orc. "I mean," she said in a conspiratorial voice, "wouldn't you?"
Naull didn't know whether to laugh at or smack the paladin, so she did both.
"Ow! You're as hard as Regdar!" Naull said. Her anger was gone, and the brief pang of jealousy subsided. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Their eyes met again and Naull nodded.
"All right. I get it," Naull said, then started toward the stairs. "I better get to sleep. When one of you fighter-types can outsmart me, I know I'm tired."
She grinned and Alhandra returned the smile, but Naull paused with one foot on the top stair and leaned down.
"Alhandra, there's one more thing."
"Yes?"
Whispering, Naull asked, "If he had been evil, what would you have done?"
That blue-eyed stare fixed on the wizard's eyes for the third time.
"The same thing," she said.
Naull nodded again and headed for bed.
The Oilskin Packet
The Stag and Stalker Inn had more rooms and better food than most inns in a village this size, Naull allowed. She stripped off her clothing and gave everything but her weapons and component pouches to the innkeeper's wife, a stocky woman with a motherly disposition who went by the nickname "Lexi" and who was willing to do some laundry. After a brief wash in the water basin, Naull flopped down naked on the bed and tried to sleep.
But sleep came slowly, especially considering she, Regdar, and Ian (the latter two shared a room across the hall) had been awake for more than twenty-four hours.
Forget preparing any spells today, she thought, but comforted herself with the knowledge that she shouldn't need any here.
They last stayed at the Stag and Stalker the night before departing to ambush the orcs, and they learned of the trade wagons only an hour before setting out. Now she had a chance to enjoy the room and couldn't do it.
What's wrong with me? she wondered.
Naull thought of the night's events, of the loss of Trebba and Yurgen, and of everything else that happened. It bothered her that she couldn't put it all aside and sleep, despite her grief and sore muscles. That usually meant she was forgetting to attend to something. Sitting up with a sigh, she pulled her pack to the side of the bed and drew out her spellbook.
As long as I'm up, she thought, I may as well review a few things.
Even the methodical study of magic didn't relax her mind. Magic fascinated her, of course, and she'd bought a few new spells before leaving New Koratia. Wizards trained their minds for order and discipline to cast spells. Usually that meant she could fall asleep in moments if she wanted to, just by concentrating.
She wanted to, but she couldn't sleep.
Naull rooted through the rest of her pack. Regdar had the sack of plunder from the orc lair, and there was nothing particularly remarkable in it. She had the bead they found, though, so she looked it over. It was black and hard and she knew it was magical, but it didn't look sinister. She fumbled through the rest of her pack until she found the folded letter from the village leaders, the one that brought them here in the first place.
Something in Naull's mind jumped. She looked at the letter, carefully preserved in an oilskin packet. It never hurt to have the client's own written word when trying to enforce a contract, she knew. She started to open the packet, then she realized that the object on her mind was not the letter, after all. Turning the packet over, she examined it.
Plain. Brown. Slightly rough from wear and long use. Showing signs of much travel. The letter inside was certainly not the first thing this parcel ever contained.
That's it, she thought. The half-orc!
When she and Regdar searched his gear for anything suspicious, they saw a packet tucked into the inside of his chain shirt. She hadn't paid much attention at the time, but she did notice that the packet had some sort of symbol on the side. Naull tried recalling it to her mind. She concentrated.
The sun? she thought, frowning.
Her brow furrowed as she discarded that idea.
A tongue of flame? That was it. It had some sort of fire-symbol on the outside.
She tried to remember what they did with the chain shirt. Regdar had taken the half-orc's weapons back to his room, but the shirt... they left the shirt on the shelf in the cellar.
Naull hopped out of bed and strode over to the door. Luckily, she stubbed her bare toe on a chair leg and hopped back, or she would have walked out the door completely naked. For some reason she thought briefly of Alhandra and the attention Regdar had given her.
He'd notice me then, she thought.
She felt herself blush, f
oolishly. She and Regdar were partners and friends. He'd seen her naked before, and she him. There wasn't much room for modesty on the road, or in a dungeon. Still, her cheeks grew warm as she limped back to the bed.
I'll just wait for my clothes, she thought, lying down. Lexi will bring them, then I'll go get the packet.
She stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply.
An hour later, the door to Naull's room opened a crack and the innkeeper's wife laid the wizard's cloak, breeches, and tunic on the chair without coming inside. She could hear the light snoring and quietly wished the wizard a good day's sleep.
Sides of beef, cured hams, and wheels of cheese hung from the rafters of the stone-lined root cellar beneath the Stag & Stalker. Alhandra saw barrels of wine, spare crocks, and stores common to many inns she'd visited in her travels. The half-orc lying sprawled on the dried rushes spread across the floor, however, was new to her experience. She looked around in the dim light and ran her fingers through her short hair, pulling her headband off and wiping the back of her neck.
"It's all a bit new," she muttered.
Alhandra trained for fighting evil and killing monsters, but she hardly expected her first adventure without a higher member of the order to be so fraught with controversy and intrigue. She was glad she'd met Regdar, Naull, and Ian. They seemed to know what they were doing, and she very much appreciated their support out by the barn. But uncertainty nagged at her, a familiar, if unwelcome friend. She wondered when she'd be rid of it.
She rested on one knee beside the prone half-orc and soaked the headband in the water basin. The two towels she'd brought down were filthy with blood, mud, and dust. She didn't want to bother anyone for more, now that the half-orc was nearly clean. It was obvious he'd spent more than a little time in the desert to the south. Dabbing at the half-orc's wounded eye she saw that it wasn't permanently damaged, but there definitely would be a scar.