Chapter 7 – The Coach House
Zaphyr and Zull followed closely behind Sir Kyr as he marched through the twisted streets of Varin, his stride as confident as if he had lived in this city his entire life instead of having only arrived the day before. As the mist faded away completely before the morning sun and the city fell back into focus around the trio, any hope that Zull had had that they would have been able to blend in with the crowds of sailors and merchants hawking their wares vanished as he noticed passer-byes staring in a mixture of awe and quiet unease at the silent figure dressed in a shining suit of armor. Indeed, as Zull noted glumly, Sir Kyr’s mere presence cut a swathe through the crowd which the twins following him passed through.
“Where exactly is this coach house? Neither of us has visited this part of Varin before,” Zull asked Sir Kyr, nervously glancing back over his shoulder for any sign of the Plague Rats he knew must be pursuing them.
“It isn’t far,” Sir Kyr said calmly, his voice level and just loud enough to cut through the surrounding din of the street. “It’s just by the western wall, about a block away from one of the main city gates.”
“Very well,” Zull said reluctantly, already half-regretting agreeing to Sir Kyr’s protection simply for the attention it drew. Still, Zull had to admit, if he is half as good of a fighter as his appearance would suggest, then he can surely deal with a street thug or two, right? That answer satisfied his worries for the present moment, at least, and the less Zull thought about the scope of the threats arrayed against them, the easier it was to focus on the immediate problems, he had found. One thing at a time, he told himself. If we can make it out of the city alive, then that’s a step in the right direction.
Zull’s thoughts were interrupted by Zaphyr asking their new protector, “Do you like animals, Sir Kyr?”
Even Sir Kyr seemed taken aback by this question, slowing his pace for a fraction of a moment before picking up speed again, saying hurriedly, “I suppose so. Why do you ask?”
“I like animals too. Cats, mice, horses, dogs…especially dogs,” Zaphyr said pleasantly. Zull frowned, wondering where Zaphyr where was going with this line of conversation.
Sir Kyr nearly stumbled over himself before saying in a surprisingly stern and angry tone, “I fail to see how this line of conversation has any meaning or benefit for us.”
Zaphyr bit her lip in a pouty expression. “I was only trying to be polite. If we are going to be traveling with Sir Kyn, I thought we should try to know him better.”
“I don’t think he’s interested in that,” Zull whispered to his sister.
Zaphyr huffed. “Well, pardon me for trying to make friends.”
Zull rolled his eyes, but he had expected as much of a reaction from both Sir Kyn and his sister. They continued in silence for a few minutes, before, to the twins’ surprise, Sir Kyr said apologetically, “Forgive me for the offense, madame.”
Zaphyr blinked in surprise, then said, “No offense was taken. If you wish to keep to yourself, that’s fine by me.”
“I shall strive to be more polite in the future,” Sir Kyr said, his tone stern, although it was directed primarily at himself. “It has been quite some time since I have had any companions, and my social graces have been blunted somewhat from lack of use.”
“You poor thing,” Zaphyr said quietly. At a normal volume, she said, “There is nothing to fret over, good Sir. You are forgiven.”
Sir Kyr relaxed at that, shoulders loosening as he nodded happily to himself. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” Zaphyr said, curtsying slightly as she did so. “I must confess, however, to some curiosity. What happened to make you so alone? Does it have something to do with your illness?”
The twins waited patiently for several minutes, but there was no response from Sir Kyr to Zaphyr’s question, only his steady, clipped pace of marching towards their destination, wherever that may be. Zaphyr looked to her brother for answers, but he simply shrugged in response. “I know as little as you do,” he said.
“That’s a change,” Zaphyr said, crossing her arms.
Zull smirked at that. “Yes, yes it is.”
“Enough chatter,” Sir Kyr said abruptly. He pointed at a building across the street from them, and the twins looked, squinting in the afternoon sunlight. It appeared to be a typical two-story building made of wood with an awning stretched out over the street to provide shade, as was normal for buildings in Varin. “What is it?” Zull asked in a subdued tone.
“There was someone moving on that building’s roof, not a moment ago,” Sir Kyr said as calmly as if he brought up what he had eaten for supper the previous night. “When they saw me looking their way, they ducked out of sight.”
“You have very good eyesight,” Zaphyr commented.
“Do you think they were working for the Plague Rats?” Zull asked.
“Perhaps, or else working directly for whoever’s hand is truly behind this matter, the one pulling the strings on the Plague Rats like crude marionettes,” Sir Kyr said, his attention still solely focused on the rooftop, concentrated to an almost inhuman degree. “Regardless, we should expect company from them and soon, I would say.”
Zaphyr drew close to Zull, eyes widening. “We barely escaped from them last time,” she said.
Sir Kyr broke his gaze away from the roof, swinging it back to the twins. “Last time,” he said, “you did not have my protection. I would not worry about the Plague Rats. Now, as for whatever other resources your unseen opponent may possess…Come, we are only a few blocks from the coach house of which I spoke.”
Before either twin could respond, Sir Kyr took off again at a rapid pace, forcing them to sprint to catch back up with him and not get separated in the morning crowds. They strode on for another few blocks until they were within sight of the city’s walls, over three times as tall as either twin. Sir Kyr took a sharp right turn at the base of the wall and traveled a bit further before stopping at a single-story building with a painted sign of a horse hanging above the door. The building was attached to a long stable which stretched past it. Beyond the stable and only a minute’s walk away at most stood the city’s gates, which had already been opened for the day, allowing a steady flow of traffic both on foot and on horseback to pass through. Despite the frantic busyness surrounding the gates, no one stood near the coach house, and the faded wood of the door and the peeling paint on the sign made it clear that the business had seen better days. Zaphyr almost felt pity for whoever owned this store. Zull wondered how poor their business model must be that, despite having such an advantageous position, the state of the establishment proved they were clearly making little, if any, profit.
Regardless of the building’s quality, Zull and Zaphyr couldn’t help but breathe a little easier upon seeing the coach house, and eagerly followed Sir Kyr as he stepped up to the door and knocked on it briskly. Not bothering to wait for a reply, Sir Kyr pushed the door open and stepped in, the twins right behind him.
The coach house’s front room was a dark, dusty space, empty save for a door at the far back and an ancient wooden desk wedged between the walls to prevent any access to that door whatsoever. Despite the sunlight seeping in through the windows, a slight chill filled the chamber. Behind that desk sat an elderly man wearing a white wig and black robe, evidently a clerk, who blinked owlishly at them as they entered.
“Ah, Sir Kyr,” the man said, tapping a gnarled finger on the desk before him, spread with sheets of paper and at least a dozen half-empty inkpots and an equal number of quills. “It has been some time since you have required our services.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“And now, I require them again,” Sir Kyr said, slamming the still open door behind him so hard that it made the clerk wince. “The three of us will rent one of your carriages.”
“Mhm,” the old man said, leafing through a sheathe of papers as he did so. “To what destination do you desire to travel?”
“The capital. Melkis.”
“And you would like the finest and fastest of our steeds, I assume?”
“Of course,” Sir Kyr said.
The old man tsked loudly at that. “Melkis is several weeks’ ride from here, at least. To hire our best animals for such a long journey would cost thousands of golden crowns, at the very least.”
“Thousands? Are you insane?” Zaphyr interrupted angrily. Sir Kyr put a warning hand on her shoulder, and she quieted down, although she couldn’t resist shooting a glare at the elderly man. Even Zull was taken aback; such a price was far beyond anything he had even heard suggested as reasonable fare for a journey like this.
“Surely there must be some mistake,” Sir Kyr said evenly. “Your rates have never been so…exorbitant in the past.”
“Times change,” the old clerk said crossly. He pulled a rag out of his vest and wiped at his forehead, which glistened with sweat. Zull frowned. “And I am afraid to say that our rates have gone up. What do you want me to do?”
Sir Kyr growled something incomprehensible to understand, then, in as restrained a tone as he could manage, said, “We will forgo a cab driver. I have worked with horses in the past. I can drive them if the situation calls for it.”
“Even so,” the old man said, leaning forward as he steepled his fingers before his face, elbows resting on the few clear spaces on his desk. “That will reduce your price to a question of hundreds of crowns, instead of thousands.”
“Outrageous,” Sir Kyr snapped. “This is robbery.”
“No,” the old man countered. “These are our current going rates.”
“If that’s the case, then we will seek transportation elsewhere. Good day to you, Sir,” Sir Kyr said, turning and resting a gauntleted hand on the doorhandle as he did so.
“Wait!” the old clerk said suddenly, standing up so quickly he nearly upset his desk as he did so. There was evident panic in his voice and eyes, which made the trio pause, curious to hear what he said next. He stood there for a moment as if frozen, then blinked, gulped loudly, and said, “Per…perhaps a more reasonable agreement could be reached.”
Sir Kyr considered for a moment, then, gradually, pulled his hand away from the door handle and pivoted back to look directly at the clerk. “I thought you would see reason,” he said. “I think that for a journey of that length a fee of…perhaps two hundred crowns would be appropriate.”
“Now who is robbing who?” the clerk muttered to himself. “Eight hundred. I must make a profit here somehow. This is still a business.”
The twins couldn’t see his face, but somehow, they could sense the delighted grin beneath Sir Kyr’s helmet. “Two hundred and twenty-five.”
“I’m not some bankrupt market merchant you can haggle with!” the clerk sputtered. “We have standard rates for a reason, Sir.”
“And yet,” Sir Kyr responded, “You are the one who proposed that we resort to haggling in the first place.”
At that, the clerk collapsed back into his chair, mumbling incoherent grumblings to himself as he rubbed once more at his forehead with the rag. Zull stepped up to the edge of the desk, peering down at the papers scattered seemingly at random with curiosity. The clerk grimaced at him and tried to shoo him away with a hand, snapping, “Mind your own business, child.”
“These children are under my protection, and you will show them the respect that status demands,” Sir Kyr said, a hand dropping to the hilt of one of his swords. The clerk blanched, nearly dropping the rag he was holding while his hand shook.
“Seven hundred crowns for the journey,” the clerk said feebly. “And that is my final offer.”
Sir Kyr shook his head. “And here is my counteroffer: three hundred and fifty crowns for a carriage to Velinshire. That’s roughly halfway been the capital city and Varin. Surely that strikes you as a reasonable agreement.”
Zaphyr tried to resist the urge to smile, knowing that a carriage to Velinshire had been what Sir Kyr desired in the first place. Zull continued watching on the clerk.
The clerk nodded, saying, “Very well, very well. Three hundred and fifty crowns it will be.” He reached into one of his desk’s drawers, fumbling about as he did so, before emerging a short while later after finally finding a contract and a still working quill. “Here you go,” he said, handing both items to Sir Kyr. “Just sign here and here, and the carriage is yours.”
Sir Kyr dipped the quill in one of the many inkpots and lifted it above the document. He was just about to begin writing, when Zull lifted a hand and said, “Wait. Something isn’t right.”
The clerk glared at Zull irritably. “What are you doing, you insolent child? Can’t you see that the adults are discussing business here?”
“Why are you so nervous?” Zull asked the clerk, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been sweating constantly since we entered, and it’s hardly warm in here. In fact, I would say it’s downright cold.”
“Zull, what are you trying to say?” Sir Kyr asked sharply.
“Be silent, child!” the clerk hissed, his face having gone entirely pale.
Sir Kyr swung his gaze to the clerk, who shrunk back in fear. “Speak,” he commanded Zull.
“I think he is trying to delay us and waste our time, although why, I don’t know for certain,” Zull said.
Sir Kyr slammed his mailed fist down on the desktop, hard enough to rattle everything atop it and sending several pots rolling around, spilling ink as they did. He reached out with lightning speed and grabbed the clerk by his throat, hauling him over the desk and throwing him down on the ground on the other side with barely any effort. “Is this true?” Sir Kyr asked, his voice having become as cold as ice and as hard as sharpened steel.
“I don’t know what this idiot child is talking about!” the clerk protested, blubbering and beginning to sob as he did so. Sir Kyr backhanded him, the blow strong enough to send the clerk sprawling across the floor.
“Don’t lie to me,” Sir Kyr hissed. “I can smell the fear and deceit on you.”
“Alright! Alright,” the clerk said, quivering with abject terror as he did so. “The Plague Rats…one of them was here, a short time before the three of you were. They told me to delay you by any means possible, keep you from renting a carriage for as long as I could.”
“You wretched traitor,” Sir Kyr said flatly, the anger having left his voice to be replaced with a hollowness that sent chills down the spines of Zaphyr and Zull. “And what did they promise you in exchange for this? Coin? It’s always coin.”
The clerk nodded miserably, too afraid to lie.
At that, Sir Kyr pulled out one of his swords, running one of his gauntlets along the dull edge of the blade as he inspected the sword. For anyone else, the hefty blade would have been heavy enough to qualify as a two-handed sword, but he wielded it with one hand as if it weighed next to nothing at all. He swung it once or twice experimentally, then said, “I think you will receive your just reward right now.”
“Wait!” Zaphyr said. Sir Kyr stopped for a second. “Don’t kill him!”
“Why not?” Sir Kyr said.
“He hasn’t done anything worthy of death,” Zaphyr protested.
“Hasn’t he? Would you deny me the use of my blades to protect the two of you from harm? When the Plague Rats try to murder you, would you have me stand aside?” Sir Kyr asked.
“No,” Zaphyr said, bewildered.
“Good,” Sir Kyr said, and as he spoke with one swift stroke he beheaded the clerk, blood spurting across the ink-stained desk. Sir Kyr kicked the clerk’s body aside, to the twins’ disgust and horror. “He had betrayed us to the Plague Rats before we even arrived. This was justice.”
What have we gotten ourselves into? Zull wondered as he stared at the fallen body of the clerk.
Sir Kyr stepped over to the door and grabbed the handle, then tore it off in a burst of superhuman strength before kicking the door hard enough to shred it into a hail of splinters. Beyond the now ruined door, in the street beyond, the trio could see a dozen thugs startled by the abrupt disintegration of the coach house’s entrance.
“Greetings,” Sir Kyr said, drawing his second sword to wield alongside his first. “I take it, then, you are the Plague Rats of which I have heard so much.”
“Aye,” the thug in the front, a pale, nervous looking man whom Zull recognized from the last night at Teacher’s house. “My name is Geth, and I’m the boss of the Plague Rats.” He pointed past Sir Kyr to where the twins stood, still within the front chamber of the coach house. “We have no quarrel with you, stranger. All we want is those children.”
“Well, as I told your former accomplice, these children are under my sworn protection,” Sir Kyr declared. “If you wish to harm them, then you will have to challenge me.”
Geth looked at the rest of his accomplices, then said confidently, “That can be arranged.”
“Before we begin, I have a single question for you,” Sir Kyr said. “Who are you working for? Who could possibly be so sick and vile as to order the assassination of two children? Whoever they are, they must certainly be powerful; I can practically taste the fear radiating off you.”
Geth gulped nervously. “Do you really think I’d be so foolish as to tell you anything about the Master?” he said, his voice strained.
Sir Kyr tilted his head to the side. “Good. Now I have a name that I can use. Thank you, Geth. When I hunt down this ‘Master,’ I will tell him that it was you who helped me find him.”
Geth grimaced and gestured with a sharp jerk of his hand to the burliest of his thugs. “Crush that tin helmet of his. It’s starting to annoy me,” Geth growled.
The thug, grinning widely, stepped forward, pulling out a knife of his own. In one smooth motion, Sir Kyr leapt from the open doorway down, lashing out with his foot to strike the thug in the chest, causing him to double over in pain. Before he could stand back upright again, Sir Kyr brought both of his swords down, stabbing him through the back twice. He finished by pulling both of his swords out and stepping back and away even as the criminal finished crumpling to the ground. In all, the fight had barely taken longer than a handful of breaths.
The other Plague Rats looked nervously from Geth, to their former comrade, to Sir Kyr, who stood there, his expression inscrutable, blades dripping blood clutched in either hand. Geth took a step back, whispering, “Who are you?”
Sir Kyr did not reply. Louder, and with anger started to creep into his voice, Geth demanded, “Who are you?!”
Again, Sir Kyr ignored the question.
“Come on,” Zull said to Zaphyr. “Let’s hide, if we can. Things are about to get very messy, I think.”
“There’s just one of you, and eleven of us!” Geth said. “You can’t win, fool.”
“Is that so?” Sir Kyr said at last, nearly making Geth jump in surprise. “If that’s the case, then why have none of you attacked me yet?” He hefted his blades, then tensed, every muscle in his body prepared to spring into action. “I’m waiting.”