Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chibot Sends A spy
Smoke rolled skyward from Chibot’s cigar as he studied the town of Goulcrest. He had raided the city several times in the past, but he’d been younger and less experienced. He had never succeeded in obliterating the place, and if he were honest with himself, he’d barely taken away anything to brag about. The most Goulcrest had ever done for him was to fluff out his raiding resume.
He’d currently been tasked by the mayor of the town to create as much murder, mayhem, and . . .uh . . . what other word started with M and meant a general had negative connotations? Nothing came to mind. Chibot loved alliteration but was absolutely terrible with it. Murder, Mayhem, and, erm, malaise? That would do! Yes, he had been given a job to bring Goulcrest to its knees and then cut off its head.
He’d appreciated the gift of the blubbering clerk. The man had been so annoying that Chibot would have probably killed him on principle, but it was always nice to get paid for beheading someone he hated.
The bandit leader studied the town. It was nothing special, but then it had withstood him in the past. In addition to ravaging the town, he had also been told to kill a specific individual. That didn’t worry him. Chibot had been known to raid a town just to kill a specific target, thereby hiding the reason behind the murder. The less people had a reason to question a death the better it worked out for his employers. Chibot did have consideration for those who hired him. He always made sure to do the best job he could; his reputation meant a lot to him and there were far too few considerate killers on the market. There were a lot of madmen, blood-lusting berserkers, and cold-blooded killers, but there was a dearth of trustworthy and dependable killers for hire who did their utmost to make their employers happy.
Chibot didn’t really care if the people that hired him were happy. If that was all he cared about he would have sent them a keg of beer and tickets to an all you could eat pig roast. He did care about his reputation, however, and having an unknown quality, such as the mysterious Mr. Tooth, did not help to quell his fears of failure. All he knew about the man was that he had scared the mayor and his clerk so badly that they had kotowed his simplest requests. Oh, and that he’d grown a beard. There were women in his band that could grow beards. He had no idea of why that had been a major point for the clerk to point out about how hardcore the man was. Of course, cottage cheese probably seemed hard as nails to Chozen. That man had seemed to be afraid of his own shadow.
That didn’t mean he should discount Tooth. For all, he knew the man was a grizzled war veteran who bathed in the blood of his enemies with just a strong lye soap to clean himself up with. No, he wanted some intel. The more he knew about Tooth the better prepared he would be to face him when the time came. He needed to send someone in. Someone who could play the part of a common farmer seeking refuge from the raiders. He needed someone smart and stealthy; someone who could keep a low profile and never let the townsfolk know they were under surveillance.
What he needed and who he had available were two very different things, however.
“Bring me, Farmer Ted!” Chibot’s decree sailed through the air like a javelin and unerringly struck the ears of his aides who stumbled out of his tent to fetch the man he was calling for. The bandit filled his time waiting for Farmer Ted to answer his call by play a game of mumblety-leg with a merchant his band had captured trying to make his way into Goulcrest.
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Mumblety-leg consisted of Chibot throwing a dagger into the merchant’s leg and pulling the blade out with his teeth, while the merchant tried not to scream. If he screamed then there would be a blood eagle flying later that night. Knowing this, the merchant remained utterly silent but trembled in pain. Sooner or later Chibot would hit a femoral artery and the game would end, but he had impeccable aim and nothing but time on his hands.
Three throws later and the killer known as Farmer Ted entered his tent, which was perfect timing as the merchant had just passed out. The bandit kneeled before Chibot and looked to the ground. He kept his head bowed in a sign of submission until the leader spoke.
“Rise.” Chibot detested small talk; best to get right to business.
The bandit rose to his full height. He wasn’t as tall as Chibot, but he wasn’t much shorter. The man was an impressive six and a half feet, had red hair and a freckled face. He was in his late twenties or maybe early thirties, it was hard to tell with the hard-living his men endured. He was lanky, but not lean. His shoulders were broad and he wore banded armor, which was typical of highwaymen. This looked like a man who had killed someone when he was five and grew up fighting rats for scraps in the streets, not like someone who had tilled fields for a living.
“You are Farmer Ted,” Chibot stated with a tilted head and with a questioning tone. The man did not look anything like a farmer in his eyes.
“I am,” came the reply.
“But you have never been a farmer, have you?”
“No sir,” Farmer Ted smiled a mouthful of yellowed and blackened teeth, “I wouldn’t even know ‘ow ta plant a donkey or water a chicken.”
“Why are you called Farmer Ted, then?” It began to dawn on Chibot that his men were neither creative nor intelligent enough to call this man a farmer in jest.
“I thinks it is onna count that I kill people with a sharpened hoe.”
“You go into battle with a sharpened hoe? Why?” Chibot could not conceive of a reason for him to have a man in his band of highwaymen and layabouts that used a farming tool rather thana spear or tool.
“Well, when most people see me they thinks Imma some poor lout runnin’ fer his life. Then, I gets close to them, and sinks me hoe into their heads. Also, I has found it to be a good way to snag an emmeny spear and pull it from their hands leaving them defenseless. My emmenies litter the fields, the few who survive fear my deadly hoe!” Ted began miming striking unseen enemies with an invisible hoe. Chibot had to admit that his thoughts on using a hoe in battle were shifting towards it being a positive thing.
“Very well, Farmer,” he said the word facetiously, “I want you to infiltrate the town of Goulcrest. Find a man there they call Tooth,” Chibot began.
“And give him a good weeding?” Ted finished for him.
Chibot sighed. There were times having a band of bloodthirsty barbarians at his beck and call was a good thing, and there were times that applying their limited skills to other endeavors was like trying to cut down a tree with a wet mop.
“No,” the bandit leader said as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I want you to observe him. Get a measure of what kind of man he is.”
“You mean ta see how he’ll fit inna coffin?”
“NO!” Chibot caught himself as he prepared to gut the man. He didn’t mind killing idiots, but if he did that then he would be the lone highwayman. A solitary bandit. While it might soothe his aggravation it would not help him raid towns. No really smart man would ever do such a bloody job with so little in return for the effort.
“No,” he repeated more calmly. “Just see how tough he is. What weapons he uses, what his fighting style is; that sort of thing.”
“Gotcha,” Farmer Ted said with enthusiasm.
I doubt that Chibot thought. I doubt that very much.
Farmer Ted turned and exited the tent flap with a spring in his step. Chibot watched him go and wondered if he was going to get any good intel on the mysterious Mister Tooth. He became certain the moment that he heard a war cry outside of his tent that echoed long after the man had left the area.
“Farrrrrrrrmer Teeeeed, Hoooooooooooooe!!”