A Sellsword's Valor Page 19
“Somebody gonna tell me just what all those things were?” Nathan asked.
“It’s too much to go into now, Nathan,” Aaron said, “it’d take too long to explain, and I don’t think we have that kind of time. Whatever is going on in Baresh, I have to believe Boyce Kevlane is involved somehow.”
The barkeep laughed at that but quickly sobered when he noticed the expressions on the others gathered at the table. “Wait a minute, you’re serious. Boyce Kevlane as in the Boyce Kevlane, the ancient wizard from the stories, one that supposedly died a thousand years ago?”
“Thousands,” Aaron corrected, “and he’s no myth or tale for children—he’s real. And very much alive. Now,” he said, turning to the youth, “why don’t you tell me what exactly you’re doing here and why we shouldn’t kill you?”
The kid smiled self-assuredly. “Kill me? Unlikely. Based on your pupil dilation and the timbre of your voice, I calculate—”
“Kid,” Aaron said, “I’ve always been known for a bad temper, and I’ve got the Virtue of Compassion—one that makes me weep and fawn over small kittens. Now, if that isn’t enough, it also makes me go into rages that I can barely control, let alone understand. So before you start telling me about my pupil dilation or whatever else is going on in that brain of yours, understand that I don’t even know what I’m going to do from one minute to the next.”
The kid’s smug expression faded, and he swallowed hard. “As I said before, I mean you no harm. In fact, I mean to help you. You see, I have been doing my own investigation into what’s been going on in the city. I’ve had to be very circumspect, mind you, but I have learned enough to support the claims that men and women of unique talents have been disappearing from the city for some time now. They have all left what valuables they have behind, vanishing as if into thin air.”
“Wait a minute,” Aaron said, “what do you mean ‘unique talents’?”
The boy shook his head. “They vary from one person to the next. Odel, the blacksmith, was of course a man known for his prodigious physical strength, but there have been others, many others. Some known for speed or strength, others for ruthlessness or brutality. It seems that whatever force is seeking these men and women out, it is in search of people who embody some sort of extreme, not so very different from the Virtues themselves.”
Aaron frowned. “So who is taking all of these people and what do they want with them?”
The youth sighed, “I’m afraid I don’t know. I have had to be very careful, for it also seems true that those who happen to witness these abductions usually end up missing themselves, or are killed outright.”
“So why did you say that we wouldn’t find Bertrand at his home?”
“Because he isn’t there,” the boy said, a bit of the smugness returning to his voice. “I have already searched for him myself, meaning to ask some of the questions that you have just posed. It took me some time, but I believe I have discovered his whereabouts.”
“Well?” Aaron said. “Did you go there? What did he say?”
The youth’s cheeks colored, and he looked down at the table, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m afraid I haven’t gone there yet.”
“Well,” Aaron said, rising, “there’s no time like the present.” He grabbed his sheathed sword from where he’d draped it across the back of his chair and then slung it over his back, tying his cloak around him. “Darrell, you stay here with Nathan in case anything should happen. Wendell, Leomin, you’re with me.” They started toward the door, and Aaron turned back, glancing at the youth who was still seated at the table, pointedly not looking at Aaron and the others.
“Well, what is it boy? You’ve got to show us the way.”
“My name’s Caleb,” the youth said, “and, anyway, it would probably be best if I didn’t come. I could draw you a map—”
“No,” Aaron said, “you’re coming. If you’re leading my friends and me into some kind of trap, I want you close enough so that I can have a quick word with you about it, do you understand? Oh,” he said, smiling, an expression that held little humor and somehow seemed menacing, “and my name’s Aaron. Nice to meet you.”
The youth swallowed hard, his face paling. “I would say that it is my pleasure, Aaron, but given the circumstances…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Aaron said, “given the circumstances, we’ll all probably be dead by breakfast.”
He turned to where the three Virtues were at the far end of the room. “Come on, firefly. We’re leaving.”
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Adina fought back a sigh of frustration as she dismounted, keeping hold of her horse’s reins. She glanced up at the sun, low on the western horizon. Another hour, maybe two, and then it would be dark. She’d been hoping to make it to Stockton, a small village on the outskirts of her kingdom’s borders by dark, but it was looking as if they were going to spend another night camped in the woods. In truth, she had thought they would already be in Galia by now and, had they been lucky, the issue of her rule might have been decided, one way or the other. She turned and looked behind her and this time she wasn’t able to keep the sigh from escaping.
“I’ve got to be honest, Princess,” May said as she also dismounted, “I’ve never seen a horse hate a man so much. I’m no expert on the creatures, but up to this point I would have said they were incapable of hate at all.”
For a minute, Adina didn’t respond. She was too engrossed in the spectacle playing out behind them—a spectacle that had been repeated half a dozen times since they’d left Perennia. Gryle’s horse had bucked, sending him tumbling from the saddle, and the young giant, Bastion, was helping him back into the saddle.
The old woman, Beth, sat on her horse watching, smiling widely as she did each time the chamberlain was thrown. Adina had been reluctant to bring the old woman and the young soldier at first. In her mind, Beth would have been better served to stay in Isalla and watch over her grandson, and even without his uniform on, Bastion had the distinct look of a soldier—the kind of look that would draw attention they didn’t need.
Still, they had both proven invaluable in the weeks since they’d left the city. After all, no one but the giant youth could have lifted Gryle back onto his horse, and the chamberlain—having no experience in horsemanship—seemed to become even clumsier than usual when he tried to climb up himself.
As for Beth, the old woman had proven herself in many ways, smashing up herbs and cooking them into teas to soothe an upset stomach Gryle had come down with shortly after leaving the city, or to help blunt the pain of Adina’s own headaches. And she’d been a comfort in other ways too, her no-nonsense, gruff but somehow kind approach to conversation enlivening their talk around the campfire, and lifting Adina’s spirits despite the dangerous errand on which they’d embarked.
“Oh, horses can feel hate,” Adina said, nodding, “the question is why do they hate Gryle?” It was strange, that was true. Adina had ridden with Gryle before. The chamberlain had never been an expert rider, but horses were gentle beasts by nature, often showing far more patience for the lack of skill in their riders than any human ever would.
For all her talk, Adina had never seen a horse instantly dislike anyone as quickly as the animals did Gryle. Unlike humans, horses—and most animals in general—had reasons for their hate, most often because they had been mistreated or abused. The chamberlain, though, wouldn’t so much as mistreat a fly, yet the horses bucked him when they could, even going so far as to bite at him, if he came within range. And it wasn’t as if the chamberlain had just drawn a temperamental horse, either, for they had all tried switching their mounts with his, but it had made no difference. Whatever horse the chamberlain rode grew aggressive as soon as he drew close. As Adina watched, the horse snapped at Gryle, who had wandered dangerously close to its front, but Bastion slung out an arm, pushing the chamberlain out of harm’s way.
“I’ve never seen a horse act like this around Gryle before,” Adina sa
id, shaking her head and doing her best to keep the annoyance out of her tone. She was frustrated by the amount of time they’d lost—the amount of time they still would lose—but she knew the chamberlain wasn’t to blame. He’d volunteered to walk at least a dozen times but always Adina had said no, partially because she didn’t want the man to have to walk while the others rode. Mostly, however, it was because even considering these intermittent stops, they were still making better time than they would if they were all forced to slow their pace so the chamberlain could keep up on foot.
“You think maybe it’s because of the thing he carries?” May asked.
Adina frowned. “Perhaps. I remember Co—Aaron’s Virtue—saying that Melan, the Virtue of Strength, was insane. Horses are smart creatures, smarter than most people give them credit for. It could be that they sense something about Gryle that they don’t like.”
May made a noise in her throat. “You say that horses are smart creatures, and I’ve no cause to disbelieve you, Princess. I’m a city girl, and I know little of such things. Still, I wonder, if the horse is worried…do you think we should be worried as well?”
Adina turned and met the club owner’s eyes. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
May shrugged. “Something to consider, anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I like Gryle as much as anyone can, but where we’re going, it’s going to be dangerous, and we need to know that we can count on those around us. I’d hate to think we were closing the barn door after one of the wolves already made it inside.” She hesitated then. “Perhaps we could send him back.”
She must have seen something in the princess’s expression because she held up a hand forestalling her. “Believe me, I don’t like the idea of it any more than you do, but it’s a simple enough path back to your sister’s kingdom. He should be able to make it without any problem. If you want, we can even send Bastion or Beth with him and wait for them in Galia. It might even be a good thing—people will be less suspicious than if we come in a large group.”
Adina considered that, then finally she shook her head, “No.” She glanced at May. “I know what you’re thinking, and it isn’t that I’m worried about Gryle—at least, it’s mostly not that. Gryle might seem helpless, but he’s got a way of surprising people. I’m sure Aster Kalen would tell you as much, if he could. It’s more that, before it’s through, I think there’s a pretty good chance that we might need Gryle. Without him, I never would have made it out of the castle when the general and the nobles came for me. It was Gryle who learned of what they were planning, and it was Gryle who woke me up out of a dead sleep and led me out of the castle, managing to avoid all of the soldiers the nobles had sent for me. No,” she said, shaking her head again, “Gryle stays with us.”
“As you say, Princess,” May said. “Besides, I’m not sure we could have convinced the chamberlain to leave your side anyway, so it’s probably just as well. Either way,” she continued, glancing back, “it looks like they’re ready again.” May swung into the saddle of her horse and turned to Adina. “What do you think, another few miles before dark?”
Adina smiled, feeling better after the decision had been made. However much time they lost, she thought it was the right one. “Another few miles?” she asked, mounting her own horse and glancing over at the club owner. “If we’re lucky.”
***
Gryle sighed heavily. “Do we really have to do this, ma’am?”
The old woman cackled, “Oh, come on now, you big baby. There’s at least another fifteen, twenty minutes of light left, and I aim to make use of every one of them.”
“It’s just …” He frowned. “Well, it’s demeaning.”
Beth snorted. “Demeaning is getting knocked from your horse and falling on your ass half a dozen times, chamberlain. This, well, this is just a game.”
“Not a very fun one,” Gryle muttered, but he took several steps away and prepared himself.
“Remember,” Beth said, reaching into the basket and withdrawing two eggs, one in each hand, “you’re not trying to squash it, only catch it. Soft hands, chamberlain. Soft hands.”
Gryle frowned. She’d said much the same since they’d started this strange training, and he wanted to have soft hands, he did, but each time he caught the egg, it inevitably busted leaving him—and his clothes, the gods be good—covered in sticky yolk. “Soft hands,” he muttered, “soft hands.”
But he found that he wasn’t thinking much of his hands or the eggs at all. Instead, his mind drifted to their time on the road so far, to the princess. She’d done her best to hide it, but Gryle had known her since she was little more than a child, and he could see the impatience in her gaze each time he struggled with his horse. And why did the animals hate him so, anyway? He’d never had such problems before. He’d considered that, perhaps, it had something to do with the Virtue he carried—a poor deal, if it were true. As far as he could tell, the only thing the Virtue was good for was making him break chairs and desks and, well, pretty much everything he touched, including what had been a near priceless vase in Queen Isabelle’s castle.
Fresh horror washed over him at the thought of the vase, and he realized he’d let himself become distracted. He looked up and let out a squeak of surprise as he saw an egg sailing through the air toward him. He reached up on instinct and caught it, wincing and closing his eyes in expectation of the inevitable explosion of yolk and shell. It didn’t explode though, and he slowly opened his eyes, peeking out as if still half expecting the shell to magically shatter in his hands. But the egg remained intact, and he couldn’t help the stupid grin that rose on his face. “I did it, Beth! I caught it and it didn’t break!” He was turning to look at her when something crunched against his forehead, and yolk began to run down his face in a slimy trickle.
Still, the grin didn’t diminish from his face, and, for once in his life, he wasn’t thinking about propriety or how foolish he must look. He wasn’t even thinking about his clothes—another shirt that would have to be washed, and even then it might not be saved. He was only thinking of the egg in his hand, safe and unbroken.
“Sorry about that, Gryle!” Beth called, but he thought he detected laughter in her voice. “Great job catching the first one though.”
“It’s no problem,” Gryle yelled back, “how many more do you have?”
“Enough to start a chicken city, if I’ve a mind to.”
Gryle smiled and set his feet. “Alright then, throw me another one!”
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
The youth seemed to grow more and more anxious the further they got from Nathan’s tavern, and Aaron watched him with a frown, his hand ready to clasp the handle of the sword at his back. The kid had given some decent reasons for why he’d come to the inn, but Aaron had lived around professional criminals for most of his life and knew better than to trust him just because he had a believable story.
As they made their way further into the city, he kept an eye on the dark alleyways around them, ready for the slightest indication that something was amiss. But if the kid is setting us up, he thought as he and the others followed him out of an alley and onto one of the city’s main streets, I’ll make sure I don’t show up in Salen’s Fields alone. I’d hate for the god to make a trip just for me.
Oh, I don’t think he’d mind, the Virtue said, her voice sarcastic, you’ve sent him enough clients over the years, after all.
Aaron grunted, ignoring the looks the others gave him. True enough, firefly.
By the time Caleb finally stopped, Aaron’s nerves were frayed and ragged, and he felt as if they’d been walking for hours. He glanced around them once more to ensure himself that no one shared the streets with them, then looked up at the building across the street. He was unable to keep the grin from his face as he turned to the kid. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
The youth shifted uncomfortably. “I wish I were,” he muttered.
Aaron laughed. “And here I thought you were setting us up, boy.
All that talk of wanting to stay behind, I thought it was you being afraid of being caught up in whatever trap you’d set. I didn’t realize you were scared of a brothel.”
“I’m not scared!” Caleb protested, his face turning a bright, embarrassed red. In that moment he didn’t sound like the bearer of a creature of myth and legend that had been around for thousands of years, a creature that had taken him from a self-admitted dim-witted child to the smartest man in the city, most likely in all of Telrear. Instead, he sounded like what he was—a thirteen-year-old boy with too much knowledge and too little experience.
Aaron raised an eyebrow at the youth’s shout, and Caleb’s eyes went wide, his face pale as he realized that he’d yelled. “Sorry. Only, it’s not that I’m scared, it’s just…I don’t know. Thanks to Palendesh, I may be much smarter than I once was, but I’m still only thirteen, you know? Do you think maybe…I could stay here?” he asked, meeting Aaron’s eyes with a hopeful gaze of his own.
“No,” Aaron said, shaking his head, “I’m sorry but you can’t.”
The kid sighed. “You still don’t trust me.”
“Kid, I try to make it a habit of not trusting anybody, but there are several reasons why you’re going in with us. First of all, if you really are trying to help stop whatever has been happening in Baresh, then I don’t like the idea of leaving you out here in the poor district at night by yourself. Trust me, whatever dangers a brothel has for you, they are much kinder—and more entertaining—than the ones that could befall you out here. Secondly, we might need that brain of yours. There’s no telling what Bertrand will say—if he’s still alive at all, and I almost feel like that’s hoping for too much—and it could be useful to have you around.”
“So you’re…actually doing this because you want to protect me and think that I could help?”
“Yes,” Aaron said, surprising himself by ruffling the kid’s hair. “Also, I don’t trust you. Now, come on. The night’s not getting any younger, and my father always told me that the sooner you start a thing the sooner it gets done.” He looked to Wendell and Leomin and the two men nodded that they were ready.