Orb and arrow, p.11
Orb and Arrow, page 11
Thorstes gathered the short sword and a knife from the other man. “Best see if anything is missing,” he said to Elden, who assured him that everything was in place and accounted for.
“I heard him come in and used my fist before he could act,” said Elden, flexing his hand. Brillar was surprised to see that it was actually bruised.
The serving lad arrived with a healer and two men who helped Thorstes with his unconscious prisoner. Brillar felt sudden darkness and straightened, staring. Elden nodded to her. As the men took the prisoners downstairs, Elden had a quick word with Thorstes as she listened. The others had returned to their beds.
“That man in the dark red shirt, do you know him?” he asked, “I think we saw him with the other two earlier in town when we were buying silver.”
“All three are new to me,” Thorstes replied. “You can be sure that inquiries will be made and answers found.” He nodded to them both and left.
Salma bustled up again with a mop and a maid to do the cleaning. “Such doings in my respectable inn,” she fumed, rattling some new keys. “You’ll not want those rooms now,” she insisted. They gathered their things and followed her up the second set of stairs. “I think you will find these suitable,” she said, opening two doors. “We keep them for the lords who sometimes happen by.” She quickly had candles lit. They showed larger and better rooms than those below.
“You do us too much service,” Elden said with smiling grace and a slight bow, leaving her flustered. “But it’s late and we’re tired. We’ll see you in the morning.” Salma dropped a curtsey and fled.
“Well,” said Elden as he looked around, “a fine reward for doing away with ruffians. Sleep well, niece.” He entered his room and closed the door. Setting her things down and undressing, Brillar flopped on the bed and squirmed comfortably in its warmth.
Let’s hope the local healer hasn’t my skill, was her last thought.
Her new accommodations had heavy curtains at the windows, and Brillar was alarmed when she opened them. She’d slept late. Muttering a cleansing spell, she opened the door and found an ewer and basin in the corridor. She carried them into the room, washed her face and hands, then, finding a mirror, she shook out and combed her hair before rebraiding it. When she finally went down to the necessary and breakfast, she found Elden in conversation with a group of locals.
“Good morrow, Brillar,” he called and beckoned her over. There was bread, honey, and jam on the table. She greeted her uncle hastily before taking a bite of bread and jam. He laughed heartily. “My niece seems to have developed an appetite after her night’s work,” he told the group, laughing again.
“And how is that bruised hand this morning?” she asked with a bit of a smile. “Still sore?” He flexed his hand as the group laughed at his discomfort.
“Perhaps I should see the healer,” he mused.
“She’s busy with thy niece’s work,” came a voice from the crowd which roared in response.
Salma bustled up with a laden tray. “Now you’ve had your news and told it. Be off and let the lass eat,” she told the crowd.
They disbursed, leaving Salma to say, “Now then, you seem well this morning, and here’s a fine breakfast and corin for you.” She bustled off.
Brillar sipped the hot brew, added honey and smiled, then applied herself to breakfast while Elden told the morning’s tale; the sheriff’s man had already come and gone.
“All three were in on the game,” he began, “one to tamper with the wine, the others to do the robbing. The healer is dealing with the one you sliced; you cut him to the bone.” She nodded. “Your friend, Thorstes, has them in a locked cell. He wanted us to wait for the judging,” he looked at her, “at least he wanted you to wait.” She scowled at him around a bit of sausage. “But I told him we must be on the road. There are enough to tell the tale. I also had Salma’s serving girl go around with some coppers and buy us food for the road. All is packed and readied for us.”
“You have been busy,” was all she said and went back to the room for her few things there.
Salma and Harkort came out to bid them goodbye. “We hope you won’t be holding all this against us or passing word about it on the road.” There was pleading in Harkort’s voice.
“Not a word,” Elden promised. He clicked the reins, and they started off, Jez and Bright following.
*** 8 ***
Now the days tended to full summer. Eager to reclaim his property, Elden kept them moving and increased Brillar’s lessons. Her Life skills and her sight improved rapidly, and he gave her a few lessons in Item magic, basics only. She had the cleansing spell but had gone no further. He continued to try to teach her to mend cloth, but that was slow going. He switched to a spell for repairing metal armor which she proclaimed, ‘as easy as knitting bone.’ No more arrows flew at her, although he threatened. Her arrows kept them well fed on cwel and linic hen. They reached the outskirts of West Riversgate in only a week.
In their last few days, the road had widened to accommodate increased travelers, mounted, with carts, or on foot. Once, a fine carriage happened on them, guarded by men-at-arms, and they had pulled to the side of the road to let it pass. They’d traveled the southern route and didn’t need the bridge that spanned the river.
As they drew close, Elden grinned. “I have it!” he said excitedly. “Closer, and I’ll be able to pinpoint the location!”
West Riversgate was an imposing town with a fine stone wall and several gates. As they approached one, a guard motioned them to take themselves to the merchant gate, and they went, uncomplaining, first looping ropes around Jez and Bright to declare ownership and to keep the horses close to the cart. The merchant’s gate was narrower than the first, but they passed through easily onto a cobbled street that widened after the gate. Houses and shops lined the streets. A butcher and fishmonger had open stalls near the wall and were doing a good business. The smell of fresh bread mixed with other town scents. Children, young or freed from their lessons, were everywhere. A small boy, pushed by an older child, fell, hitting his arm on stone and crying. Without thinking, Brillar reached out, mended the sprain, and eased him.
”Have a care, niece,” said Elden, “a display may bring attention.”
“And you,” she said sharply, for she had felt him reaching out for his foldbox.
“I said it was here,” he whispered to her gleefully. “It seems the innkeeper kept it, or at least the charm is in that direction.” The streets had been well laid out, and Elden found his old inn easily. “Yes! It’s here.”
They pulled up to the portico where he hopped out to hold Hob’s reins. “Niece, go in and ask for lodging and a barn. I don’t want to be seen too quickly.” Nodding, brushing trail dust off her clothes, she entered the inn and stopped.
The inn was high ceilinged and well furnished. Cloths covered some of the tables while sconces adorned the walls held lamps. The bar was long and curved and seemed to be one piece of polished wood. The stair to the right had a heavily carved balustrade, and the walls were hung with paintings. If Elden had been trying to hide here, he was having a pleasant time of it. The innkeeper, a heavy balding man, came over with a slight sneer at her clothing. Opening her purse, she stopped his sneer by handing over four pieces of silver and saying in an imperious voice, “My uncle and I require two of your better rooms and stabling for a cart and three horses. The horses,” she fixed him with a stern eye, “are to be well cared for, as they are fine animals.”
Taking another look at the silver in his hand, for few visitors handed their coins over without some haggling, he swallowed and stammered, “Of course, mistress. At once.” He turned away, calling for a servant to see to the animals, then, “Refreshment, mistress?”
“Wine for two travelers, good wine, if you please.” She heard Elden come in behind her with their trade goods and take a seat.
“A lovely, quiet place you picked for your hideaway,” she murmured to him, but his attention was on a glass box with a plate above it.
“Look near the fireplace,” he whispered, “but show nothing.”
She glanced around casually. To the left of the fireplace, she saw a glass case and knew its contents at once. A sign above said, “One copper to try this curiosity, one silver if you can open it.”
“So,” she said quietly, “he’s found a way to make money from it.”
“And quite the time they’ve had with it. Dented!” Elden replied with dismay.
The innkeeper returned with the wine, placing the beautifully ornamented glasses in front of them. The silvers had evidently done their work well. The man was practically groveling.
“My man has taken horses and cart to the stable. Perhaps you would like to see your rooms when you finish the wine? Supper will be two more hours.” Brillar nodded. “My lass is heating water and will bring it to your rooms.”
They sipped their wine, calling when they finished. Several tables had filled as they drank, and it seemed a good time to make themselves more comfortable for the evening. The rooms they were led to were not as fine as their last, but better than most. Both enjoyed the hot water, although cleansing spells were faster.
Elden had left her at the door with, “Now, niece, I think it’s time to refine ourselves for supper.”
Brillar had taken time to survey the room. There was a soft chair and the mattress was down-filled. Good rest there, she thought before opening the foldbox and taking out the green dress and a pair of light shoes she had forgotten. She refreshed them with a few words. The wall held a long mirror, and she enjoyed the first full view of herself in the dress. She let down her hair and brushed it to a deep sheen then added two small braids to pull it from her face. She fixed one side with an ornament and looked at herself again, thinking that her uncle had never seen her hair except in a braid. She was just finished applying scent when there was a knock on the door. Closing and storing the foldbox, she opened it, stepping back and straightening. He glanced, then looked more keenly. She raised an eyebrow.
“Well, who would have guessed so fine a lady would come from under so much trail dust?” he commented. He looked quite dashing himself, dressed in the greys the tailor had made, with a knife and purse at his belt. “But,” he took something from a pocket, showed it to her, then removed her ornament and fixed the new one in her hair.
“When?” she asked.
“While you were buying fruit.”
She blushed slightly, turned, and put her ornament on the table. “It’s lovely, many thanks, Uncle,” she told him as she looked into the glass.
He offered his arm. “Shall we go down?” He led her to the steps. There were stares when they reached the bend and a landing.
The innkeeper rushed to meet them. “My lady,” he gushed, but she silenced him with a wave.
“We wish to travel quietly,” she whispered as he showed them to a fine table then rushed off for wine.
There were more stares, then the conversations began around them again. One of the townswomen looked at her and sniffed, thinking her no niece, although the innkeeper had obviously announced them as related. Brillar tapped on her glass when the wine was served, gathering attention.
“My uncle and I are merchants now traveling in silver ornaments and pins. I see you’ve noticed the one in my hair. If you have an interest in our merchandise, perhaps you will ask after we have supped.” She sat with an easy grace.
“I thought we were going to gather no attention,” he muttered.
“I will not be thought a harlot. Besides, I know someone who will try his luck for a copper later and may be able to open that curiosity.” She smiled at him wickedly.
Several men and ladies did come over after they dined, to admire her pin, and Elden went up the stairs with several of the gentlemen, telling her that they were making a satisfactory profit.
The inn grew lively and they stayed after supper and sipped wine, waiting. Finally, a student called to the innkeeper. “Good man, what’s that in the glass?”
“Oh, a curiosity that, a fine curiosity. You can see it is meant to be opened, but none can open it. It’s well made and heavier than it looks. You can use only your hands to try it—someone has dented it already—and you have five minutes to take your chance.”
Intrigued, the young man handed over a copper and received the foldbox. He turned it over and over, puzzling. He shook it, tried to open its sides, then its ends. He attempted to pry it open to the laughter of his friends. Finally, the innkeeper took it while the others at the table laughed.
“You try it then,” he told his friends. Taking up the challenge, two more of the students twisted the curiosity with no luck. There were no more takers and the innkeeper was taking it back toward its box when Elden spoke up.
“I would like a try if you please,” he said, handing over a copper and receiving what he had sought.
Elden seemed to study the box for several minutes while the crowd stared, amused, and a few bets were placed. Finally, responding to its owner’s touch and a deft movement of his thumbs, the box popped open. Several people nearby moved forward to see how he had done it. He lifted one edge, holding the box high so everyone could see that he had won, then snapped it closed as the innkeeper came with his coin.
“Such a fine toy,” he said, as the man stared from him to the now sealed box. “Keep your silver and I will keep this.”
The crowd cheered at seeing the inn-man beaten; many a copper had been lost trying to open the box.
The inn-man stammered, wanting to keep the silver but loathe to lose the coppers.
“Perhaps,” Elden said in a loud voice, “we can discuss a price in a place more private, as I would certainly like to buy this.” The two left but several of the locals came to keep Brillar company in his absence. They all had questions about how he managed to open the box, but she feigned ignorance.
The innkeeper led Elden to a small storage room. “That box has been a fine draw for my inn,” he complained, “surely worth more than a silver coin.”
“Is it worth your life then?” came the menacing response. “Because I will have what is mine.” Elden’s dagger was suddenly in his hand as he grabbed the front of the man’s shirt, holding him.
The inn-man stared at him closely. “No, you can’t be, not possible. There was word that you were dead,” he whispered, his voice fearful.
“Very possible,” hissed Elden, “and it was you who sent me out to that pleasure house where they took me.” His dagger was at the man’s throat.
“I-I… it is a fine establishment, I was told. I mean, it was when I visited. Truly.” The knife never relaxed.
Eldred probed and found only truth in the man’s words. He moved the knife away from the man’s throat. “Now, we shall go out together, you and I, and tell the crowd that I gave you three silvers for this.” He fixed it on his belt. “Then you will make a list of anything else that might have been ‘mislaid,’ and if it’s worth my time, I may collect it; I see one of my surcoats there on a shelf.”
“Whatever I have that was yours will be returned, but some has been sold, some given away,” the innkeeper was fairly gibbering in relief.
“Then smile, good friend, and we go out together.”
Which they did, with Elden calling, “A fine bargain I’ve made and ale or wine for all present, on my coin, although we must retire.” More cheers followed.
Brillar stood and went with him up the stairs to his room.
“Now you will see,” he said, laughing, “what a year’s making will do.” He had no secrets from his niece/apprentice; the foldbox opened and reopened under his hands. When it nearly filled the room, she stared, dazzled, running her hand over fur, brocade, and silk. Pouches held gold coins and herbs lined a shelf.
“That hat is yours, really?” She smiled impishly.
“Well, in some places, fur and feathers are well suited to impress.” He stopped as she gave a merry laugh.
“By the heavens. I have found myself a rich Master.” She laughed then left him for her own room so he could take what he needed and refold the box.
Brillar slept comfortably and left the bed reluctantly. When she went down for breakfast, she found that Elden had already gone out. She ordered more corin and waited until he came in.
“For me, good niece? Thank you, I am a bit thirsty.” He helped himself to the brew and turned a lip. “Sugared!”
“Well, it was mine, Uncle Elden.” She beckoned for more for him. “What news of the day?”
“The innkeeper and I have had a brief conversation in my room. What he had of my things, he has returned. It seems that Reblin’s old master was here last night after we retired and has made an offer on our other items. There is nothing to hold us here longer. I stopped at the harness maker and bought us two good saddles; the time has come for us to go.”
“I also learned,” he added, taking a swallow, “that there is a small teaching house of the Sisterhood just a few miles on across the river.” He raised a brow. “I thought you might like to send word to your family?”
“A fine idea, good uncle,” she replied, pleased with his thoughtfulness. “I’ll gather my things and be down shortly.”
It took only a moment for both to be ready for the day. The innkeeper, perhaps wary of Elden’s temper, did not come out to bid them farewell. Instead, he sent the stable boy with horses and cart. On the way to the merchant’s gate, they shopped a bit, adding tubers, dried meats, and fresh fruit to the cart. Traffic on the road to the bridge was light, but they had to wait there for a drover to bring his cattle across from the far bank.
“Did you find Jenel’s partner?” Brillar inquired as they crossed the bridge and started down the road.
“I never looked,” he replied. “Probably just some courtesan hired for the evening and long gone. Let’s have one of those small melons I saw in the cart; a day as fine as this makes a man hungry.” When she reached for the melon, he gave her a shove, tumbling her into the dirt, and worse, the cattle had passed along the road.
