“I don’t know why you bothered saving him, Darm. He’ll be of no use in the dungeon, and from the looks of it, he doesn’t have any other skills to speak of either.”
“Something about him called to me,” a second voice replied. “Call it an act of faith if you want.”
“Faith? You? I’d sooner believe that a dragon had given up its gold,” the first voice snorted. “At least that has a chance of being true.”
“Your lack of faith wounds me.”
“And yours is the reason we got kicked out of that church party last month.”
“Hey, you were fed up with them as well.”
“That may be,” the first voice responded. “But at least I had the good sense not to blaspheme Ceronis to her followers’ faces.”
“Aye, well, lesson learned. And at least they had the good grace not to kill us.”
“No, they simply abandoned us seven floors deep in an unexplored dungeon and left us to fend for ourselves. If we hadn’t found that secret passage out, we’d both be dead right now.”
“But we’re not, and because of that neither is this fellow.”
“How fortunate for him,” the first voice said dryly.
As the two voices lapsed into silence, the clacking of wooden wheels over hard dirt filled the air, the uncomfortable shaking of the carriage jarring Rowan into wakefulness. Unsure of where he was, he kept quiet, pretending to sleep as he did his best to analyze the situation. The last he remembered, he was dying in a back alley of Taureen, victim to a knife in the stomach from an unknown assailant. Doing his best to remain quiet, Rowan moved his right arm, twitching it slightly as he brushed it against his stomach.
No knife, some bandages. I’ve been treated, and presumably saved from the sounds of it, Rowan realized. The only problem was that he had no idea who his saviours were, nor what their motives were. If there was anything that growing up on the streets of Taureen had beaten into him, it was that there was no such thing as a free lunch. It didn’t matter what race you were—elf, dwarf, orc, human, fae, or other—people only helped those that could help them in return. Oh gods, I hope they don’t want sexual favours.
Cracking an eye open, Rowan did his best to get a glimpse of his surroundings. He was in what appeared to be a non-descript wooden carriage, the back wall a simple white curtain that prevented the dust and dirt from entering. Several boxes were piled against the wall, while a slim figure sat on the opposite side of the carriage, her expression hard as she stared at him. Does she know I’m awake?
“I know you’re awake,” the woman told him, dispelling any thoughts Rowan might have had to the contrary. Her voice suggested that she had been the first speaker he had heard, the one who had not been happy about his rescue. “You might as well sit up and tell us who you are. I don’t enjoy traveling with someone I don’t know.”
Raising his head, Rowan looked at the woman. On closer inspection, she was an elf, tall, with short hair and a hard look that seemed to warn him about what might happen should he disobey her request. At her side was a warhammer with a thin handle over a metre long and a large head that tapered to a spike at one end.
“I’m Rowan,” Rowan told her after a moment. “A street-rat from Taureen. Thank you for saving me.”
The woman snorted. “Don’t thank me, thank that idiot,” she told him, jabbing a thumb toward the front of the carriage where a door opened to reveal a large halfling, sitting with reins in his hands as he directed the carriage forward.
Hearing this, the halfling turned around, flashing Rowan a sunny smile and waving with his left hand, several rings glittering in the sun as he did. “Hello, Rowan!” he said. “I’m Darm, and this is Tethisarel, although she normally goes by Tethis.”
Tethis grunted at this, but said nothing.
“We saw you lying in an alley with a knife sticking out of you,” Darm continued. “Being the good natured sort, I took the knife out, cast a few healing spells on you, and brought you along with us. Tethis isn’t too happy about that, but I’m sure you’ll win her over eventually.”
Win her over? How am I supposed to do that? Rowan wondered, glancing sidelong at Tethis. The woman was tending to her hammer, carefully polishing the sharpened spike with a cloth. While Rowan had never been the overly imaginative sort, it did not take much imagination to imagine that hammer finishing what the dagger had started. It would probably hurt a lot more too, Rowan thought privately, doing his best to appear attentive as Darm talked.
“Yeah, saw you in that alley and I was like, ‘Woah! A person!’ Tethis thought you were dead, but I knew better.”
“No,” Tethis interjected. “I said we should leave him for dead, not that he was dead.”
“Details,” Darm said dismissively. “Luckily for you, my boy, I’m pretty good at healing magic because you were practically gone. A few more healthpoints in the negative and you would’ve been meeting with whichever god of death governs Taureen.”
“Dothriss,” Tethis said.
“Right, Dothriss. I always forget that Taureen observes the Valendian pantheon,” Darm replied. “Feels like they should be with the beast gods, given their proximity to the region.”
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“It was established as a Valendian outpost. It makes sense that they would observe the Valendian gods,” Tethis retorted.
Staying silent as the pair bickered, Rowan took the opportunity to check his health.
121/150
It seemed that Darm had not been lying when he’d said he was good at healing magic. Rowan’s health was close to full, far closer to full than it normally was, given the poor conditions of the streets. Keeping his head forward, Rowan glanced around. Now that he was sitting up, the cart had become far easier to observe. It was sparsely decorated, with only the white cloth curtain at the back and a few crates stacked against the walls to show for decoration. A pair of backpacks sat on the bench beside Tethis, while a small bed of linen had been placed on the bench that Rowan currently found himself seated upon.
Traders? Rowan wondered. The contents of the cart seemed to suggest that Darm and Tethis were wandering merchants of some sort, roving the continent peddling their wares to whoever could afford them. However, the hammer that Tethis was tending to, along with Darm’s use of healing magic, seemed to suggest that this was not the case. While traders were usually versed in some form of combat, Darm and Tethis both seemed far more practiced than any merchants ought to be. Plus, there was also the line that Tethis had dropped earlier about being left behind in a dungeon. Are they adventurers then? Whatever they were, Rowan was about to find out, for Tethis had fixed him with a hard gaze, like a predator observing a tiny creature that had wandered into its domain.
“Yes?” Rowan asked nervously, his voice cracking slightly as he stared back at the elven woman.
“Who are you?” Tethis demanded.
“Rowan.”
“Last name?”
“Don’t have one. I was born on the streets.”
“You’re alarmingly well spoken for a street rat, why?”
“There was an orc matron who made it her job to teach us how to talk properly. Told us that we would never rise up if we couldn’t even speak. She took the lessons very seriously.”
“Why did you attend? Street rats where I’m from usually spend their time stealing and hiding from the law. Attending lessons would have been seen as a waste of time.”
“The other street rats didn’t like me,” Rowan explained. “Called me bright-eye and beat me. Matron Redfang wouldn’t allow violence in her lessons. She was the only one who was allowed to be violent.”
“Why did someone try to murder you?” Tethis asked, changing tack.
“I don’t know,” Rowan said nervously. “I didn’t see my attacker. I was returning from the market, going to the Seventh district bridge, where I sleep, when I was attacked. By the time I knew what was happening, I had been thrown to the ground and there was a dagger in my chest. I tried to get to a healer, but I bled out too fast.”
“Did you steal from anyone important? Choose the wrong mark?” Tethis demanded. “Answer me truthfully, street rat, I won’t have a liability in my carriage.”
Rowan gulped, the glint in her eyes told him that she was serious. If she deemed him a burden, he would be booted from the carriage without a second thought. “No, none of that. I made sure that everyone I stole from were just ordinary merchants. I never targeted the town guards or any nobles. I didn’t even mess with kids from the academy. I really don’t know why I was attacked!”
“He’s telling the truth, Tethis,” Darm said from the front. “Street rats get attacked all the time. It’s likely he just had some food on him and someone else took an opportunity to get it. Happens everyday.”
“Hmph,” Tethis snorted, leaning back as she observed Rowan seriously. “Fine. What are your talents, street rat?”
For a brief moment, Rowan considered lying, but the look in Tethis’ eye chased the thought from his mind. She already knew he was a petty thief, his reputation wouldn’t get much worse if he told her about the rest of his skillset.
“Sneaking, stealing, and running away,” Rowan told his inquisitor. “Those are my main talents. I’m especially good at running away.”
“Not yesterday, you weren’t,” Darm said with a booming laugh.
“What about lying?” Tethis demanded, ignoring her partner’s interjection. “That’s not one of your talents?”
“No,” Rowan responded bitterly. “Truth or lie, it never mattered. No one believes street trash.”
“Indeed,” Tethis replied.
There was silence at this declaration, neither Rowan nor Tethis seeming to know what to say to further the conversation. As Rowan glanced awkwardly around the carriage, Darm turned around, the reins going slack as he faced Rowan. “In that case, how about you join us?”
“What?!” Tethis shocked voice rang out, her head whipping around to face her companion. “Have you gone mad?”
“No more than I usually am,” Darm replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her. “You’ve been talking about adding another to our party recently, well, here he is.”
“I meant a trained fighter!” Tethis protested. “Not some whelp who recently met the wrong end of a letter opener.”
“You would never trust a trained fighter,” Darm retorted. “You only trust me because I basically saved your life. This is a boy with absolutely nothing going for him. A raw, uncut stone with no allegiances or affiliations. You take him in, train him, and he’ll be forever grateful to you for both saving his life and giving him a purpose. There’s no way he would betray us after that.”
“And if he did?”
“Then you can only blame our shit luck,” Darm chuckled. “You don’t have to recruit him right away. Why not give him some training. We’re still a month out from Karsolnia. Train him a little, see how he does. If he doesn’t perform up to your expectations, then kick him out in Karsolnia. I’ll give him a few coins to get him started and he can begin a new life far away from Taureen.”
There was silence for a moment as Tethis considered this. “Fine. But if I’m not satisfied with his progress by Karsolnia, he’s done. No matter what you say in his defense.”
“Fair enough,” Darm chuckled. Looking back at Rowan, who was still in a state of shock at this declaration, he smiled kindly. “No need to accept right away. We’ll let you ride with us tonight, and if you don’t want to, then we’ll drop you off at the next city we stop at.”
Nodding mutely, Rowan attempted to process what had just happened, while doing his best to ignore the daggers Tethis was shooting his way. This all felt too good to be true, and at any other time, he would have been exhilarated. Now, however, he simply felt tired. He had nearly died, then somehow woken up alive, and now been extended an invitation to join an adventuring party. None of this would ever happen to a street rat such as himself, so realistically, he was probably dead, and this was just the dream of one caught between life and death.
However, dreams were the one thing that all men both rich and poor could enjoy, and Rowan did not intend to leave one so pleasant as this. If in the morning, when he awoke, the dream revealed itself to be real, then he would deal with the situation as it presented itself, but for now, his body needed rest.
With that thought, sleep overtook Rowan, his head lolling against the padded seat of the carriage.