Waiting for Gelgor was mostly uneventful, but finally, it was time. I was stationed behind Laes, on foot, to welcome a small party of mounted horsemen who approached the Ravens’ caravan in the early hours of the morning. Leading them was a figure I recognized at once to be Gelgor. I had overheard the people of the Ravens talking about his distinctive appearance, and there was no mistaking that it had to be him. At this range, he looked like a blob of an orange that had found itself a strong enough mount to carry it. However, I saw that he carried himself well on his horse, despite his prodigious size.
As the small band drew closer, I could see that Gelgor’s escort consisted of professional soldiers. Their gear was uniform, and their eyes were watchful and serious. Each had a long lance cupped at their right stirrup, and at their waists was their choice sidearm. They were all equipped with iron nasal helms and well-crafted iron lamellar trimmed in bronze. About their armor they wore an orange sash that designated their allegiance. Gelgor himself was armed with nothing more than a smile.
I could not help but be reminded of a similar scene from not too long ago. Yet, unlike that encounter, where tension filled the air, the stillness that comes before violent acts, this time felt different. Rather, I felt it to be more forced and routine. More akin to a regular family meeting—tolerated, but not eagerly anticipated. On the surface, it certainly did not have the feel of another hostile encounter.
Hopefully, this meeting would not end in bloodshed. Despite that being the best outcome, I still entertained the stray thought that it could be a welcome chance to gain a few more points of experience. Prepared for it, even. Patience, I chided myself.
“Hello there, Laes of the Ravens,” greeted Gelgor the portly caravan master, a fixed smile on his lips and only the barest of edge to his voice. I could not help but notice that his jowls bounced in time to his mount's gait before he finally came to a stop.
At this distance, I could see that his face resembled an ugly and overly-friendly pug. From the pockmarks on his face, it seemed that, once upon a time, Gelgor had a bad case of acne. Good looks, it seemed, were not one of the prerequisites for the position of caravan master.
“Gelgor Badawi,” Laes returned, with only the barest inclination of his head, his voice formal and controlled.
Gelgor smiled at this. “We meet under an auspicious sun, indeed. Most auspicious. I hope this day finds you well, Master Laes. I presume you wish for us to travel together once again? You always were one to skimp on adequate protection.”
“As always, Gelgor, you have the way of it. The path has been most dangerous of late, and I fear that there are many perils left on the road,” offered Laes.
Laes’ counterpart sniffed at this. “Of course, the way would be safer. For you, of course. The banquet on display for the scavengers of the plains—that was your doing, I presume?” Gelgor asked archly, more of a statement than a real question.
To his credit, Laes did not even bat an eyelid. “Not of my choosing,” he replied flatly.
“Of course, that is the way of things. Better that the scavengers feast on their honorless corpses, than yours and mine. The rules of the long road. I have something that might be of interest to you. News reached me just before my departure. News of an escaped slave, brought back to life through dread ritual and magic. And, sightings of the first folk, the Warders of the Woods. Elves of a different cut of cloth. You would not perchance know anything of this?” probed Gelgor as he looked with great interest at one of his nails.
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My hand began to stray slowly to the hilt of my weapon. I had faced worse odds than this before. However, peace would reign for a while longer as Laes answered him quickly.
“Elves, as you know, are uncommon, but not exactly rare. You speak of them as if they are legends and myths that walk the lands again. We both are too old for this. You yourself, have traveled with the long-lived ones before, as have I. They are just people, though much longer-lived. Heavens, Gelgor, your grandfather’s head scribe was one of the dark-skinned ones. Also, we both know that those who would do business with the free city of Al-Lazar do not travel with, nor trade in, slaves. There is no one in my company that bears the brand. I would have you kindly cease such spurious talk—it could get my writ of trade revoked,” Laes answered a little heatedly.
“As you say, as you say. But, Laes, I would have you know that these were no common elves. The local guards of Ansan were spouting nonsense that two of their number were able to fight off half the city, set fire to the other half, and escape into the night. What their business was in the city is still a mystery. Mixed in with all this mess, this little snippet caught my attention - a rather renowned slave concubine of a prominent Vessel family has escaped. A precious family treasure, for she has been in their possession for many generations, and yet she is still as comely and youthful as any spring maiden. Of elven stock, with hair like fine spun gold, eyes of jade, and skin of pure ivory. Worth more than a king’s ransom, or so they say. This would not have anything to do with your sudden departure from the city?”
“Master Laes, was just…” Khalam began to interject before he was immediately cut off by Laes with a look.
“I see that even such a man as yourself can fall prey to the lure of idle gossip,” Laes answered, his expression ever so slightly strained. “You come to me with less than news, less than rumor. The gossip of bored women. Perhaps, it is because I simply wished to arrive ahead of the Weeping - earlier than is usual. Still, no matter, as your good friend, I offer you, Gelgor Badawi, the guest right of the Ravens. I will indulge your penchant for idle rumors over tea. Perhaps we might be able to talk of matters that are more profitable.”
“Very well, Laes. I see that, as always, you lack even the smallest shred of romance. What you dismiss as idle gossip and fancy is the spice that keeps our lives interesting. It would not kill you, Laes, to live a little. I really don’t see what my sister saw in you,” sighed the obese man. “Nonetheless, I shall surrender myself to your honor and hospitality,” stated Gelgor, with a knowing glint in his eye. He dismounted, handing the reins over to one of the drudges. Eyes down, the worker accepted them, bowed respectfully, and led the mount away.
Soon after, the rotund man barked a command to one of his men in High Quassian, a language with which I had only limited familiarity. The man was of medium height, dark-bearded, and had an orange turban wrapped around his helm. The man nodded once to Gelgor, acknowledging the order before galloping off back in the direction of the Crows.
The rest of Gelgor’s honor guard also dismounted and passed their mounts to Abas Yar and his assistants, who led them off to be fed and watered. They soon began mingling with the rest of the Ravens in friendly conversation. Backs were patted, and stories were exchanged, and from what I could gather from the snippets of conversation, Gelgor’s guards had many of their friends and extended family among the Ravens.
After about half an hour, Khalam touched me on the shoulder and drew me aside. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. But now, you are a healer, a prodigy from one of the temples, and the red one is your lady wife. The pair of you are seeking lost relics of your goddess, and thus have joined the Adventurer’s Guild,” he whispered in a quiet voice. “Laes feared that this journey would be more dangerous than usual, and chose to hire some adventurers to supplement his usual escort. The tight bastard that he is, he only hired those of the bronze rank. You can remember this?” he hissed.
“I think so…” I replied, uncertainly.
“You had best be sure, for Gelgor, despite his outwardly friendly manner, is a snake. He would sell his own mother for a few coins, if she was still alive. Now, I am not saying not to talk to the people of the Crow, but I would ask that you not get overly-friendly with them. Best you keep that in mind. Now, repeat to me your story,” the Guard Master insisted.
Once I could repeat the story to his satisfaction, he made me promise to tell my comrades of this latest twist. I would do as Khalam advised, but the lies did not sit well with me.