Leaving the gawkers behind, I walked toward the forest in search of Carver sign. It didn’t take long; the creatures weren’t known for their stealth. Following the tracks out to the forest led me to where they’d descended from the trees when the tree line thinned out. That was more in line with what I expected. Carver’s, when off the ground and in the trees, were a nightmare deal with, and that’s not even when they’re at their worst. I’d reserve that for when they attacked you while in the Labyrinth.
Something stuck out to me, though, some niggling detail in the back of my head. It took me a couple minutes of staring at the shredded bark and lacerations left by their passing before it clicked.
There weren’t enough tracks, not enough signs of the number of the creatures I would have expected. The nasty critters usually moved in groups of ten to fifteen, and while that didn’t sound particularly impressive, a group of ten waist high slicing and dicing nightmare mantis monsters would terrify many hardened adventurers.
I took note of the general direction they’d headed and started back toward the camp. Along the way I kept my eyes peeled for any other signs of the little monsters lurking around. Puncture wounds and slash marks in trunks abounded, but the only place they appeared to have left the edge of the forest was at the paddock. Weird, though, since Carver’s weren’t particularly well known for showing restraint. A sliver of worry wormed its way into the back of my mind to nestle against the growing itch of the curse.
I found the camp easily enough. Instead of finding an out of the way spot, the Count had chosen to take control of the whole stretch of road leading toward the blockage. Typical, nobles thought they owned everything within sight, even when they set up camp in someone else’s land, weeks away from their own holdings.
I stopped walking at that thought. Orleander was a Count, which meant he actually owned his land and holdings, unlike the local Baron, who likely only held the land in tenure from the King. Which begged the question, why had Orleander decided to lead his own trade caravan? I snorted at my own question. The answer, of course, was politics. I immediately lost interest in the details and continued making my way to the camp
As I approached, Kan’on and Jass lounged around a small fire, camp neatly set up, animals grazing. I searched for my pack among the pile of gear. Grabbing it, I plopped down on the ground and pretended to reach in and grab a flask.
“We’ve got a problem,” I said. I took a long pull from the flask, sighing appreciatively at whatever unknown liquor the tavern keeper had topped it up with. It burned so good on the way down.
“Are you going to tell us what the problem is or are we supposed to guess?”
“I’d put my money on Carvers,” Jass said.
I whipped my head around in surprise. I’m not sure where he’d gathered the information to come to that conclusion, but he was sharp.
“Damn, yes. How’d you figure it out?”
“There is sign of them all over the place if you walk a bit into the woods. Trees tore up nice and good from all the jumping around they do.” Jass didn’t look too concerned, like he was an old hand at dealing with Carvers.
I raised my eyebrows, impressed, not just because he knew what Carver sign looked like, but because he was observant enough to have found it without anybody telling him to go look for it. Or even heard rumors, for that matter.
“I take it you found something then,” Kan’on said. “I don’t have any experience with the creatures, but I thought they only came out of the Labyrinth. This place doesn’t seem like it has had any of the kind of trouble an entrance nearby would bring.”
“You’re right. Which means either there was an unused entrance nearby all along, which is unlikely, or a new one opened up somehow.”
“There is something weird about this situation,” Jass said. “Carvers aren’t known for self-control when it comes to food and we’re sitting here with a caravan full of horses and oxen practically staked out for dinner. I would have expected an attack already, if they’re already out there prowling around.”
I pointed at him and grinned. “Damn, you’re stealing all my thunder. You’re right. Something is off. Either way I need to go tell the Count.”
Since Jass already had something divine smelling roasting over the fire, I decided to delay my visit. I pulled out the gifts I’d bought for Jass, a new bench knife and some sharpening stones for his tools and spear, which he took appreciatively. He even let his stoic expression slip to give me a rare smile.
I ate a bit of stew along with a few slices of meat and bread, then found a place to answer natures call. Finally running out of ways to procrastinate, I stood up and looked down at Kan’on.
“You coming? I ran into the Count earlier while I was exploring the town. He extended an invitation, for what it’s worth. You should come, if for no other reason than if Ms. Black gets frisky you’ll have someone to play with.”
Kan’on perked up at the thought of a fight. The poor guy had spent years shacked up in that school of his, sparring with the same people over and over, every day. He talked a big game about going back, but I suspected he was enjoying his time away. Maybe not so much chasing me around, but the prospect of new fights certainly perked him up.
“Can I give the thing another try before we go? I think I’ve had a breakthrough.” He was, of course, talking about the willpower exercise.
“A real try? You know the consequence of failure, you sure you want to ruin your date with your Mysterious Black Masked Friend?”
“Whoever she is, she’s about as threatening as the blanket Jass is sitting on,” he said, waiving it away. ”And besides, the only way there is going to be trouble is if you provoke her for some reason. Come to think of it, I’m certain you can’t help yourself.”
“I would never do such a thing!” I said with half-hearted drama.
I placed my hand down on the ground between us, the invitation apparent. Kan’on drew the familiar heat rune in the air and then closed his eyes. I could feel the change in him that only a few days of intensive practice had produced. His willpower was sharper, more contained, focused.
Without so much as an ‘are you ready’, Kan’on blasted power through the rune and I had to scramble to bleed away the power and pit my willpower against his own. I could feel him, reaching out blindly, trying to grasp the unseen force preventing his magic from working. He encountered the edges of my control, still unable to force any change, but it was a huge step in learning to sense the Flow.
As soon as his focus shifted from finding to opposing my willpower, his concentration fell apart, and I ripped the working from his grasp completely, the rune sparkling and fading away. I looked at him seriously, gauging the man who sat beside me. He had monstrous talent. I wouldn’t insult him by trying to claim his ability was unearned, but some people just had a knack that everyone around them envied.
Kan’on grabbed a finger on his left hand and snapped it, swift and without drama. He held in the pain this time, but I still saw it leaking from his eyes as he looked at me.
I nodded to him. Only a small acknowledgement, but an acknowledgement, nonetheless. Just to put him in his place, I drew the sloppiest, most idiotic version of the bone setting rune I could muster, barely even recognizable as a rune, and slammed my powered intent and willpower into it like a sledgehammer.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Before I could find anything to throw at him, Kan’on swiped his hand through it, then suppressed a scream as the force of the rune’s effect ripped the bones back into place with such force as to almost re-break them in the opposite direction. I cackled at the sight of his aggrieved expression.
“You’re a depths cursed bastard, you know that. Deep ones take you!”
“Yes, yes I am. Now if you’re done whining let’s get going.”
###
I had to give Orleander credit, he and his people kept a clean and orderly camp. But the monstrosity in front of me made my heartburn flare up. When the Count had said ‘pavilion’, I thought he spoke figuratively. Standing before me was an actual pavilion tent with room for twenty to thirty people to just lounge around congratulating themselves for being born carrying a blessed relic. Various other tents, surely with important and necessary functions, surrounded the pavilion, displaying an obscene amount of ostentatiousness.
“Is he serious? Is he expecting a multi-nation treaty signing to happen here or something?” Kan’on was a little more circumspect and reserved than I was, but even he couldn’t understand… just why.
“Let’s get this over with. I thought I might want to move up here to stay with the Count, but after seeing this I just want to get back to our cozy little camp where we don’t have pompous idiots prancing around, slapping us in the face with their wealth every time they turn around.”
I led the way into the pavilion. Pillows and blankets surrounded low tables lavished with fresh juices and other extravagances, for a traveling caravan at least. What appeared to be the ranking guards occupied their own area, quietly enjoying drinks together. That’s where I’d like to be, knocking back a few shots with the boys, but instead I approached the table occupied by cloddish Clyde, the local Baron Palambre, and Count Orleander. Ms. Black sat a little to the side and behind the Count, face still hidden behind the hood and scarf.
Surveying the offered juice, I found a likely candidate and poured a fair amount into the glass waiting for me. Catching Clyde’s eye, I reached into a nearby bag of candied nuts into my cubby to grab a flask, then withdrew my hand with an overly surprised face, looking at Clyde as if asking, ‘what on earth was this doing in there?’
Under his outraged and incredulous gazed I topped off my cup with whatever booze I’d pulled out and gave the glass a swirl to mix it in. Kan’on elbowed me in the ribs, probably to remind me to not provoke anybody. Too late, Clyde looked ready to leap over the table. He’d somehow regained his courage between the battle with the Brute and now, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
“Ardashir, I’m glad you are able to join us. You’ve already met the Baron.” Orleander continued the introductions by listing every title Kan’on carried. I almost rolled my eyes. Kan’on was supposed to be my date, not the other way around.
“I see you’ve made yourself at home. Sure is a comfy setup you’ve got here.” I sipped delicately from my cup, pretending it was a delicate crystal flute
“I was told we were going to be here for a while. There is no reason to not enjoy our stay as much as possible.”
Of course, the implication was that carrying a noble ransom’s worth of lodging with him was the only way he could enjoy anything.
Conversation was strained at first, in large part because I didn’t bother hiding my derision for all the excess. A few drinks loosened me up though and soon I started to enjoy myself, despite my determination to be angry about all the luxury and money.
“Your name is strikingly familiar. I can’t quite place where I’ve heard it before, but I’m sure I’ve heard of you. Are you a famous swordsman?” Baron Palambre asked. I could see the skepticism from earlier hidden behind his polite question.
“Something like that. I get around a lot. That’s probably where you heard my name. I make friends wherever I go.”
Orleander’s eyebrow twitched, and he quickly rose to his feet and walked around the table toward me. I grinned at his approach.
“Ardashir, I mentioned earlier that I would like to speak with you about a matter. Would you accompany me for a walk so we can have a discussion?”
I sighed, I had enough booze in me to handle anything with a measure of patience, so why not. I’d spent more of my adult life away from court than in the business of handling noble affairs; it had poisoned me to that lifestyle.
I rose from my seat but grabbed my flask before following the count out into the evening air. The camp had settled down for the night, the smell of cookfires permeated the air along with the low murmurs of fireside conversation.
“As you are probably already aware, I’m traveling to Dormar to set up a foreign trade headquarters. The trade guilds there have a reputation for being particularly aggressive.”
I wasn’t sure where I would have heard such a thing, but when the Count said ‘aggressive’ he made it sound like they were particularly argumentative. But I knew from my own travels that what it really meant was that if you didn’t have your own standing army to protect your business interests there, then you were as good as not in business. The trade guilds of Dormar were famously cutthroat.
“I hadn’t known that, but I’m not surprised. There wouldn’t be many other reasons for you to travel this far. Unless you’re looking for a bride too?” I threw that hook out there, looking for a bite. I didn’t know if the man was married or not, but he looked to be of an age where if he wasn’t already, he would be desperately looking for a suitable match.
Orleander didn’t answer right away. Instead, we walked in silence for a while, enjoying the night air, which I didn’t mind at all.
“A bride is possible, but unlikely. They are famously unwelcoming to outsiders, which means I’ll need to establish myself there, or my proxy as it were. I was hoping I could borrow you, or more accurately, borrow your name in my efforts to subdue the opposition. With compensation, obviously.”
It took me a while to understand what he wanted from me, but when it clicked, I laughed so hard that it came out like a bark at first. It wasn’t the most insulting way to try to recruit someone I’d ever heard, but by the depths it wasn’t far off. However, in terms of how nobles usually operated amongst themselves, it was straightforward and as refreshing as a cold breeze on a hot day.
“You want to use the stories about me sacrificing everything I love to the Deep Gods for power? My reputation that says I’m a loose cannon with the power of gods that might decide to squash a city on a whim? Compared to the stories about me, I got a bum deal on the supposed power if you ask me.”
“Most of us at court know the true story, or at least a version of it, that is not my concern, however. Besides, the King wouldn’t still be on good terms with you if the rumored events actually took place.”
“The King. Yes, I guess we are still on good terms, or at least as much as decades of wandering can allow. There is a reason I still hold title and lands, and it’s not because the King and I are on good terms. He owes me.”
The alcohol had perhaps loosened my tongue a little too much. I clamped my jaw shut before I said something I would regret. Besides, in this moment it wasn’t worth dredging up twenty-year-old pain, even if I had come to terms with it, mostly.
I considered the Count’s offer. It was insulting, and beneath me, but might just serve my own interests in Dormar more than I expected. Having a bit of clout in that place as a result of getting involved with guild disputes might give me an advantage in my own endeavors. In a place like Dormar, every advantage mattered. I sucked up my pride, not that pride had done me much good in the last twenty years.
“I’ll accept your offer, but you should know that it might be a moot point when I get there. The curse is fickle. It might allow me to stay for only a matter of days. Not enough time to put a decent scare into anybody, at least not without lots of killing involved.” Even now, the itch that had started earlier in the day drew my attention. So far it had stayed in the back of my mind, present, but not pushing. Yet.
“So, the curse is real then. I didn’t know for sure. Regardless, I would have your assistance. If it happens that you are forced to leave, then I will make do with what I have.”
“Don’t you already have an enforcer? That woman who shadows you. I’ve named her Ms. Black, by the way, since you never introduced her.”
“Ms. Black,” Orleander said with a chuckle. “She is not a bodyguard, nor is she suited for such a task. She is far more suited to… let’s call it information gathering.”
Ah, dangerous in its own way. My respect for her grew, if only by a fraction.
“Another stipulation. No wanton killing. I’ll crack some skulls, break some bones, and generally make a nuisance of myself, but I’m not going to get myself in trouble with their version of the law over this. I have my own reasons for going and they won’t be interfered with.”
Orleander just nodded, accepting the conditions at face value. We’d circled back around to the entrance of the pavilion, tacit agreement made. I didn’t push for specifics. Once we got back on the road, we’d have plenty of time to work out the details. Working with the man left a bad taste in my mouth, but maybe I’d misjudged him a little. It wasn’t too late to move on in my own way.
I swiped the tent flaps aside and walked into chaos. The guards that had been drinking were on their feet, clearly blackout drunk, throwing bets on the table as Ms. Black squared off against Kan’on in the middle of a space cleared of all tables and pillows. The Baron sat with a dejected and defeated look, head propped in his hands, and Clyde looked about to start clobbering everyone back into a semblance of order.
I thought I was supposed to be the one provoking Ms. Black. First Jass, now Kan’on had stolen my thunder, but I couldn’t say I was displeased. I reached into my robe to the cubby and took out some coins. If there was betting afoot, it was time to make some easy money.