If Raulin wanted to, he could have gotten out of this situation easily. It was just one officer, his sword, and no backup. The man wasn’t even holding Raulin at point, nor any of the quartet. This didn’t feel like an arrest, more an insisting request. The worried looks Anla gave were meet with reassuring gestures from the trirec.
The townsfolk gave them curious looks, but the quartet had never lacked those and any group being escorted through the main thoroughfare was interesting. Many were delighted to see a trirec. A few groups of younger women pointed and giggled at Raulin, those daring waved. He waved back. Anla scowled and moved closer to him.
They were led to the other end of town and turned right down Baron’s Lane. It didn’t take much intelligence to guess where they were going, but it was sometimes helpful to play ignorant. “We’re going to the castle?” Raulin asked the flatfoot.
“The Baron asked us in Quirr to keep a lookout for people matching your description and to send them his way if they should show.”
“’Send them his way’,” he repeated. “Should I assume we’re not in trouble, then?”
“I’m not sure why the Baron wishes to see you. Best not to take chances.”
Raulin began sizing up the estate and the manor house as they walked closer. The wall had several weak points and would be easy to scale, or maybe just walk out since the gate was open and manned only by one guard. The castle’s courtyard was tidy. The manor itself was of stone and in style with more modern castles, lacking crenellations and bolt holes and favoring latticed windows and decorative quoins.
They were led inside through the front door, which surprised Raulin and also put him at ease. If they were under arrest, they would be brought to a guard station or to the dungeons. A valet took their packs and Anla’s cloak and bade them to be comfortable in a receiving room while they waited. After some time tea and biscuits were served.
“What is this about?” Al whispered when the room was finally empty of servants.
“This is likely an intimidation tactic or they’re appealing to my decency,” Raulin said. “Since the staff has been respectful, I’m guessing the latter. The Baron of Quirr will waltz in here in a few minutes and play the gracious host. ‘How is your trip, trirec? Do you need supplies? Lodging for the night?’. And I’ll politely refuse, since a nobleman really doesn’t want a trirec in their home and I don’t want to be so closely monitored. Then the Baron will be charming but also thread in an implied threat here and there. ‘I want you to enjoy your time here, but if you hurt one of my citizens…’ He knows he can’t stop me from carrying out my contract, if I even have one here, but he can also beseech that I cause the minimum amount of damage. He doesn’t know that that’s my modus operandi, he just knows a trirec can do a lot of damage. I’ll assure him that I have no contract in Quirr or nearby. He’ll smile and send me on my way with some boon to remind me of my promise. This will all be over in about an hour.”
“How many times has that happened?” Anla asked.
“Four, in variations. That’s a very low number, mostly because I spend a lot of time without my mask, traveling as a normal man.”
“You could do that now,” Al offered. “I know that Anla has seen you without your mask and I’m sure Tel has. I won’t tell anyone, Raulin. I give my word. Not the police, or Arvarikor, or the Cumber.”
Rauling sat in a chair near the fireplace and pretended to consider this. He must have taken too long.
“You don’t trust me,” Al spat. It was an accusation with pain and frustration. “Is it because you don’t see how I’ve grown?”
“Wizard…”
“I…actually thought we had become friends.”
“I’d say we are.”
“Than why? Why do you always exclude me? Why am I always outside the circle?”
Raulin laced his hands behind his neck. “I’ve told you before that sometimes there are secrets that people keep from people not because of a lack of trust, but because they care deeply for the safety or well-being of that person.
“It’s because of your education…” he began.
From somewhere nearby, they heard someone walk in leather soled shoes over tiles quickly in their direction. “They’re here?” the man asked.
“Yes, sir,” some one said. “In the Outoak Room.”
A few moments later a young man entered in riding clothes, the smell of horse and sweat and leather overpowering, but somewhat comfortable. “I’m so glad you came!” he said, gathering Al into a strong embrace.
“Uh, oh! Tyro!” Al said and hugged him back. “Oh, I had forgotten you were the Eri-Baron of Quirr.”
“Quite!” He greeted Telbarisk, then shook hands with Anla and Raulin while Al introduced them.
“Tyrolek Girord, Eri-Baron of Quirr,” Al said. “He was on vacation in Mount Kalista when the eruption happened. We found him pinned in a basement, two days without food or water, unconscious due to a head wound.” He turned to the excited young man. “I’m glad to see you recovered nicely.”
“Yes, thanks to you two.” He gestured for them to follow him. “My parents will be enthused to meet you. You’re welcome here, as guests. Feel free to stay for as long as you’d like.”
“Very generous,” Raulin said. “We wouldn’t want to burden you, though.”
“Not at all! I owe these gentlemen my life. Staying here for a month or two would be such a small way to repay your heroism and gallantry.”
“Just a few days, then. We need to move on soon.”
“No business here, I hope?” he asked, though he didn’t seem to interested in the answer. He led them outside towards the orchards where several men were hoeing and pruning trees.
“No. I completed my contracts in Tektorn. We’ll be moving on to Aiketol soon.”
He nodded politely, then yelled, “Father!” to an older man with graying hair. He looked up and waved them over. Introductions were made and firm, authentic handshakes given. They were invited to the family meal that evening and the Baron ordered his steward to open four rooms for them.
They were treated quite graciously. They were given an attendant, who oversaw their laundry and gave them all better clothes for dinner, and were introduced to Tyro’s fiance, brothers and mother. Dinner was obviously elevated for the guests with multiple courses of finger foods, soups, entrees, cheese plates, and a rich, chocolate dessert.
The tale of saving Tyro was told in detail. While fascinating for the older folks, his younger brothers had been eyeing Raulin with zeal. Their manners held out ’til the roast duck was placed on the table, then they began a torrent of questions that he answered as thoroughly as he could.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“We just come from Acripla,” he continued, the boys hanging on his every word. “I managed to rid the city of the Mantyger.”
Obviously they had heard of the infamous criminal and were wide-eyed as he told that tale to them. When he finished, one of the boys turned to the other and proclaimed how he would love to be a trirec when he was older. A quick glance to the Baron saw a riotous look on his face, too polite to say anything, but very much upset by the thought.
“Kelet, yes?” Raulin asked the boy, who nodded enthusiastically. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be eleven in March, sir.”
“What did you do today?”
“Well, sir, I woke up, had breakfast, attended my math, reading, and fencing lessons, had lunch, went horseback riding, then father showed me what some of the men were doing in the fields. I played with some of the village boys; Kilko is my best friend and we go on adventures every day. Then I began reading for tomorrow’s lessons until we sat for dinner.”
“I’m glad to hear you’re being responsible. Did you kiss your mother today? Hug your father?”
“Perhaps I didn’t hug my father, but Mother did kiss my forehead this morning.”
“Go show your affection.”
The boy seemed confused, but did as he was told quickly, sitting again for further instructions into what he hoped was the education of a trirec.
“And what happens if you don’t behave?”
“My tutors will rap my knuckles if I’m daydreaming. Father sends me to bed early and without supper if I’ve been particularly bad, but he hasn’t done that in quite some time.”
“Because you’re a well-behaved boy, growing into a fine young man.” He paused to let Kelet glow in the praise before moving on. “By the time I was eleven, both my parents and my siblings had been killed. I had been adopted into Arvarikor the previous year, knowing no one, and I was not allowed to make friends. I awoke at dawn to spend fourteen hours training in physical pursuits and in some subjects that would help us. I ran miles every day. If I tried and did poorly, I would be cuffed. If I showed an ounce of sloth at being exhausted or ill, I was caned. If I was insubordinate, they would pour water over my head and I’d be switched until not an inch of me wasn’t black and blue.
“Yes, being a trirec seems like a daring career full of adventure and riches. I’m not going to tell you that I’m not a wealthy man and I don’t have a little bit of fun at thrilling chases or completing my contracts. I do. But I would give it up if I could see my family once more, if I never had to go through that training. Little boys are meant to be little boys, with families and friends and lessons and a home. Trirecs are meant to be killers and thieves and wanted men. You shouldn’t wish to be like me; I don’t even wish to be me.”
There was silence in the dining room for a full minute. Raulin looked at the Baron, who gave him a sympathetic look followed by an appreciative nod. Kelet blinked a few times, his face flush with embarrassment or sorrow.
“Thank you for that instructive lesson, Mr. Kemor. I think that perhaps it would be a good time to retire from dinner. The gentlemen are free to join me in my den, if they wish.”
Plates were cleared as they all rose. Anla gave him a series of looks that Raulin interpreted as empathy, followed by annoyance that she was being ushered from an event due to her gender. The Baroness and Tyro’s fiance, Amuena, took her gently by the arm and walked her to a patio for refreshments and gossip. Raulin felt it was wise to follow the Baron.
Even though the den had a chair by the fire with obvious indentations from years of use, the Baron chose to light his cigar by the window and stare outside at his garden. Raulin took a seat on a setee. Tel sat uncomfortably in a high backed chair that only hit his shoulders. Al and Tyro engaged in a conversation about what happened in Mount Kalista after Tyro was rescued.
After ten minutes or so, the Baron turned from the window. “I’m reluctant to say this, Mr. Kemor, but I feel you are in intriguing person.”
“Many have not been so kind, sir. Thank you.”
“I don’t generally like trirecs. I don’t like the trappings involved in your order and what chaos it wreaks upon the nobility. I don’t like that people around here think of you with admiration, not seeing that you are a man who breaks the law.”
“I’d agree with you. My lawlessness comes down to survival; if I do not fulfill my contracts, I will be killed by my order. I’m sure many criminals argue the same, though. Steal or starve, kill or be killed.” He shrugged.
The Baron paused at this. By now Tyro and Al had stopped their conversation to listen and Tel had perked up.
“You prefer work that is, should I say, ‘cleaner’?”
“Most definitely. I’m not a man who enjoys killing or stealing.”
He nodded slowly at this. Tyro looked up at his father with an expression of surprise, as if he realized where this conversation was headed. “I’d like to let you in on a certain problem we have in these parts. It’s not necessarily in my jurisdiction; as a baron, I’m only concerned with the well-being of the people of Quirr and the issue hasn’t affected them. Yet.
“There is a person or group of people who have been killing the people of Awashkit in a gruesome manner. Women, mostly,” he coughed, “parts of their bodies crushed or bones broken. I would like to hire you to find who is doing that on behalf of my Aristocrats, Rischalle, Duke of Tektorn and Equorn, Marquess of Awashkit.”
“I’m sorry, Baron Girord, but that won’t be possible.”
“I understand that it’s uncustomary to hire trirecs through personal contact, but I’d be willing to go through any procedures necessary from this point forward.”
“Baron, it’s not that you broke one of our laws and are not allowed to contract with Arvarikor. In fact, if you ever need our services, you may feel free to do this again or to contact the agent in Acripla. The only reason why I’ve said ‘no’ is because I am only allowed to take twenty-four contracts per year. I’ve actually taken an extra by guarding these three and I was punished by my order for this, which I am hoping is information you will keep to yourself. I cannot take another contract.”
The Baron sighed and nodded.
“Have you tried the Cumber?”
“Several of us have written letters and they’ve been returned with promises to send someone down at some point. It’s generally like this; if you’re not close to New Wextif, it’s not a problem.”
After a thoughtful pause, Raulin asked, “May I offer another suggestion? My good friend Alpine Gray would be a great person to take your case.”
“What?” Al asked, his neck snapping back. Tel grinned.
The Baron furrowed his eyebrows. “Is he…are you any good?”
“Very good, sir,” Raulin answered. “Since I’ve met him, .rd Gray has solved several mysteries that were beyond me. I’ve subcontracted to him several times all with great success.”
The Baron held his cigar between his teeth and looked between the two, the smoke rising into his puffy, sheep-wool hair. “Like what?”
“For instance, and again I’d rather this be kept to this room only, there was a young woman being stalked by a man in New Wextif. He applied his vast intellect to the case and was able to determine who the man was and assist me in catching him. I wouldn’t have solved the contract without him.”
Both barons were looking at Al in a new light. “.rd, is this something you’d consider doing?” The Baron asked.
“I…need to speak with Raulin for a few minutes. If you don’t mind.”
The two walked out of the room and into the hallway. “I can’t do that!” Al blurted.
“No, you can do it. I’ve seen you do it. You’re just lacking confidence.”
“That was a stalker, not a gang of maniacs! I don’t know the first thing about investigating and catching murderers!”
“Let’s look at it this way. I can’t take another contract because my order is already suspicious of me and they’ve already tailed me without my knowing. If you take this for me, I will take it back, so to speak, and you just have to do what I say.”
“I just need to take this in name only?”
“Yes, exactly,” he said.
“Okay. Okay, I can do that.” He started to head back to the room when he said, “I don’t know how to negotiate a contract, either.”
“You can demand any price you think you’re worth. You’ve only taken a few cases, which will lower your asking price, but they’ve been successful. You have a full Amandorlam wizard’s education to fall back on as well as the help of three friends, one being a trirec.”
“I don’t know…twenty gold?”
Raulin tsked. “Far too low. You’re putting your life on the line, here. And you may need to subcontract to Tel and Anla.” Al still looked exasperated. “I’m not going to do this for you. You have to look like you’re in charge. My suggestion would be to start around three hundred and see how they feel about that.”
“Three hundred? Three hundred gold?”
“You’ll haggle. Assure them that it will be solved, even if you think you can’t do it, but keep countering. Have some leniency. I’d recommend not going below two hundred.”
Al nodded and Raulin clasped his friend’s shoulder before they returned. They sat comfortably, then Al said, “I’ll take the case.”
“Wonderful,” the Baron said. “I can call my steward in to draw up paperwork. How much are you looking for?”
“Uh, three hundred gold. Now if…”
“Yes, I think that’s a fair price.” Al’s leg slid off his knee and he bent forward with a jerk. “If you need any information, please ask my steward. There’s been some correspondence about this between the nobles and I can give you access to those. I’ll also give you a letter of intent to present wherever you go and send letters to my Aristocrats.”
Raulin spoke for Al, who looked dazed. “He accepts, so long as you keep to our understanding on sensitive information.”
“You have my word,” the Baron said, shaking hands with all three of them.