Chapter 20: The Greasy Wheel Gets Spun

Skaldale was a sleepy little village nestled in the midst of rolling hills. It would have been picturesque if it hadn't been raining so hard. The local inn was called The Golden Husk, and it sat on the far end of town from my approach. I saw a stable next to it and headed Slider there. He had finally gotten used to having a bridle and bit again. There wasn't a soul to be found in the stable, so I got Slider comfortable and in a stall before heading over to the inn. The rain at least was kind enough to only be falling straight down.

Once inside the inn I shook the rain out of my cloak and hung it by the door. I found a table against a wall and sat. It took only a moment for the a maid to approach me, mug in hand.

"I took the liberty of bringing you a bit of the nog, warrior," She said with a smile. She had a pretty face, with dark hair and green eyes, but she was a bit 'ample' for my tastes, not that I was planning any tasting.

"'s good," I answered. "'s midday too long past fer sommen from the spit?"

"No sir. We've got some good hedge grouse, all roasted up with onions and potatoes, and some fine goat stew."

"'m not so fond a goat, but a bit a the grouse fer me, ah?"

I saw her smile slightly at my accent before nodding and heading for the kitchen. The accent was thick, and I was laying it on pretty heavily, but my armor and my accent marked me as a Hentish mercenary, from beyond the Imhur. I had spent some time under the tutelage of Dusk Olmorn and one of the mercenaries in question, getting everything just right.

The nog, as Westhalers called their mulled wine was a nice white, with apples, cinnamon and clove. It went well with the grouse which was served with roasted potatoes and onions and a big slice of fresh bread.

"Will you be needing a room sir?" The maid had asked when she brought me the meal.

"'s a chance a the rain a'dyin' down afor dark?"

"No sir, not if old Hunch the weatherwise is right, and he's not known for being wrong about the weather. Rain all day and all night until the wee hours. Clear tomorrow and the next he says though."

"Good enow. Been a-horse too much a late," I answered. "got m'horse stabled up there next door. No sign a someone fer makin' a deal with fer the care. 's sumbody about?"

"I'll tell the stable boy to check on your horse, but if your staying the night it's included in the cost of the room,"

"Ah, 's good."

I ate my meal in silence, and drank more of the nog rather than indulging in any of the local vintages. I'd save that for evening meal.

In addition to the unfamiliar sword that hung on one hip, I had a red lacquered wooden tube hung on a chain around my neck. They were the common device of hired couriers, and were intended as a caution for anyone approaching the bearer. Those who were hired as couriers were generally dangerous individuals. The maid, having spotted the tube, assumed correctly that I wouldn't be wanting a bed in the common sleeping room, and had me shown to a private room.

I left the maid a silver on the table in the commons, and the young boy who showed me to my room got a copper.

"Been on the rode a stretch, boy. I'm like to sleep til evenin' meal. You come make sure I'm up fer it and It'll get ya another coin, eh?"

The boy smiled and nodded and I closed the door. For a small country inn, even if it was on a Guild road, the room was what one would expect, small, sparsely fitted, but clean and quiet. I laid out my gear and got comfortable on the bed. I was going to nap before evening meal, but first I needed to do a little mental and magical recon work.

I had learned to use a feather's touch on Arbor in doing mental probes. There were far too many people with some trace of magic who were at least partially sensitive. I let my senses drift in their most tenuous form, where there was no trace of sensitivity, I let it strengthen and flow where it found no reaction. There were only two minds with any trace of sensitivity amongst the people in the inn and Skaldale in general. One was the weatherwise, Hunch Mordry, the other was a young girl, probably ten years old. I left the girl alone for the moment and did my surface scan on the old man and everyone else. Nothing I encountered tripped any alarms. I hadn't been expecting any problems. My trip was purposefully non-magical, hoping to keep myself unnoticed by anyone keeping an eye out for the unusual.

At breakfast the next morning, a middle-aged man approached me as I ate my meal. His approach was tentative and timid and I was amazed again at the reaction people had to the warrior's gear and demeanor I was wearing.

"Come on ahead there mister, I'm no foul killer for ya t'be a'feared of," I said to him when he got close.

"You are Slant the mercenary?" He asked.

"He he. Well 's more like Slant the courier this trip, mister, but yah, that be me."

"I am Hayrick Valse. Are you heading towards the capital sir? Towards "Whitecliff?"

"Ya, Whitecliff's were I'm t'be goin'" I answered. "Yer askin' fer?"

"Sir, I too am headed for the Capital with my daughter. We have a carriage and horses but no money to hire guards. I was hoping to ask if we could ride along with you on the Guild road. Brigands would think twice before attacking any party in which you ride."

The naked attempt at flattery was amusing, but to be honest, the additional level of cover would work in my favor as well. Still, a good mercenary would never work for free, so there had to be at least a token payment.

"Yer t'be payin' sommat, rich 'r poor, if ya want Slant's blade. What offer ya makin'?" I asked.

"We will share whatever accommodations we make along the way, and I will pay for all your meals."

"Ya won't be lettin' the girl go hungry t'be feedin' me, will ya?"

"Of course not! This is my daughter sir, I would starve first!" He answered with some heat.

"Good enow. Mercenaries be hard hands mister, but still we are men."

The daughter's name was Trellis. Hers was the other mind my senses had spotted. She was a winsome, brown haired imp with freckles and big brown eyes. I could sense her watching me for the first few miles, staring out from the open side of the covered coach, but eventually the boredom of the miles set in and she was asleep under the gentle rocking of the coach. The Guild road coming out of Skardale was broad and smooth. Arborians took their trade routes seriously. Their trade roads were a far cry from what they would have been in the same technological age on Earth.

In portraying the gruff and grizzled mercenary turned courier, I wasn't wont to engage in much conversation, but farmer Valse would point out the occasional landmark or object of interest. We stopped for midday meal overlooking the Luhr River Canyon and had barley soup and bread for lunch. The soup had savory bits of rabbit in it and we had a nice little wine called Shaddenewe, which Valse explained was a word in old Skarish which meant forgotten valley.

After lunch we continued to follow the canyon as it ran through the hills, slowly loosing altitude as we went. We were not at noticeably high an altitude, but the high hills in which Skaldale was nestled were at a good twenty five hundred to three thousand feet above sea level to start with. Whitecliffs was at sea level of course, being a port city, so we had some further to go in that regard as well as distance.

By evening meal the next day we were in the Luhrwood, and I decided it was time to do a little hunting. I had been traveling with my bow unstrung and packed in its carrier on Slider's saddle. As I was getting it prepared I could again feel the young girl's eyes on me. I gave her a smile as I climbed back on Slider and headed into the forest.

The Luhrwood was not a particularly dense forest, but it was hilly and uneven. I wasn't worried about Slider's footing, but I wanted to put Master Jo's lessons to the test, so I didn't use my usual hunting methods. I did use me senses to find the young doe I was going to bring back, but I left Slider waiting at the end of the ravine where she was located and followed her on foot, finally coming into sight of her after twenty minutes of slow stalking. My arrow pierced her cleanly and I was almost as surprised as the deer was when the arrow struck. Master Jo's lessons were starting to bear fruit.

We cooked the tenderloin for dinner that night, saved some of the better pieces for tomorrow's evening meal and cut up and braised the rest of it that night. It was what was called a scrub deer, more like an Earth antelope than anything else, and they were generally small. The doe was no exception, so there was not that much meat to deal with. My skills at dressing out my kill had improved enough that I didn't even think to ask the farmer for help. I let him do the braising though. He spiced the meat heavily and braised it in some of the wine left over from the midday meal. The roast tenderloin was delicious and Trellis had scoured up some field greens to make a salad with; making a rough dressing with some caper weed paste and some of the drippings from the braising pot.

Following the two days of dry weather that the weatherwise in Skaldale had predicted, we had two days of gray skies and drizzle. We stopped in a small hamlet called Bruuk at the end of our fourth day of travel and spent the night in an inn called The Pale Cork. I'm sure there was a story behind the name, but I didn't ask. The evening meal was unremarkable, except for the freshly baked bread, which was a nice change from the journey bread we had been eating on the road. The bed I had was in the common room, but I took a corner and made a show of sleeping with my sword in my hand and my courier's tube of documents under my pillow.

We were joined the next morning on the road by a young married couple, the Amalins, who were only traveling as far as Mar's Ditch, the next village, half a day's ride away. The wife joined Trellis in the coach and the husband road beside farmer Valse on the bench. The two men chatted about this and that, and I could hear Trellis' laughter coming from in the coach. She must be enjoying having someone to talk to on the road for a change. After a couple of hours on the road, the sounds of conversation almost had me distracted enough to miss it, but I still sensed the approach of something Magical. Something was coming from uphill of us and coming fast!

"Sommat a' comin'!" I said loudly. I had kept my bow strung and on my back since unpacking it a few nights ago, and I quickly pulled it to me and turned to focus on the direction where I could sense the Magic approaching.

When the creature was finally in sight, it was obvious it was neither Ur nor Brude. This was an animal, but one that had been touched by the Magic. It looked like a boar of some kind, big as a buffalo though, and with fiery eyes and gleaming bristles. It was obviously headed for us, and as I drew an arrow, I hoped that the creature was at least susceptible to normal forms of damage.

My first arrow struck it just at the joint to the left foreleg. I had been aiming for an eye, but that had proved to be an ambitious attempt at this distance. A Bolt of green fire spat from the boar's nostrils when the arrow struck. My second arrow struck the skull and bounced off. My third embedded itself into the right cheek. The creature seemed to be wrapped in a green fire now and its eyes were glowing. It was closing the distance - it was going to be now or never. I calmed myself and drew another arrow.

"No Trellis!" I heard from behind me, but then I felt the Magic wash past me, and suddenly the beast was in the air, floating helplessly ten feet off the ground and squealing in frustrated anger. With the beast held safely I went ahead and let my last arrow find the eye socket I had been seeking. I sent a second one in after it, just as cover. I already knew the creature was dead from the last arrow.

"Y'can set 'er down there littl'un," I said. Once again for appearances, I went up to the carcass and drove my sword through the boar's heart. A last little surge of green fire ran up the blade of my sword, but died before it was halfway to the hilt. I wiped the blade clean on the boar's hide. I pulled an oil rag from its pouch on my belt and wiped the sword down again before I sheathed it. I pulled my belt knife out and cut out both the boar's tusks. They would make good souvenirs, and Trellis should have something to remember this by.

"'s a good'n there littl'un," I said to Trellis as I walked back to the coach. "I met a wizard up in Pelec's Crossing once what could do that sorta liftin' a things. Seems like t'be a mighty handy gift! I'm not sure I'd 'a been able to bring t'critter down w' the last shot I was gonna get afore you magicked it up into the air."

Mighty handy indeed. I had watched and sensed her magic at work, and this ten year old was creating gravitic fields with Magic!

The sudden flurry of activity had thoroughly unnerved the young married couple, who were obviously unused to such large scale Magic.
With Trellis' assistance I hauled the carcass away from the road and over the bank, letting it roll down the hill and into the brush. If it drew scavengers they would at least be at some small distance from the road.

Trellis had to endure the remainder of the ride into Mar's Ditch in silence. We dropped them off at the edge of town, and they were at least polite enough to thank us all for the safe journey. We had a half day of daylight left to travel in, so we kept right on going, eating lunch today in the saddle. Our afternoon ride brought us to a considerably lower altitude, and we had a gentle, slow flowing river to camp next to. We had a stew made with the last of our braised scrub deer meat and some river potatoes as Trellis called them. They were something like watercress. We found some wild onion growing by the river as well and added some of those to the stew as well.

"We're going to the Wizard's College in Whitecliff to have Trellis tested," Hayrick told me as we ate our meal. "She's been able to move things a little since she was five or so, but the last few months the power has begun to grow. Her mother and I worry of course."

"Ye run int'a wizards here an there if'n ya spend yer time fightin' alongside the armies o' this king 'n that. I seen enough high class goods to know 's afront a me."

The drizzle was back on the sixth day, accompanied by a wind out of the south that had the rain in our faces the entire day. We were still following the Luhr, but at half past midday we came to the Coldstone narrows crossing. We left the Lurh behind here after crossing and began heading towards the coast. We passed three settlements, all larger than Skaldale had been before settling for the night in the Tree Moss Inn in the village of Folsenal. The inn was a busy place, and we had to share a room. I refused Hayrick the offer of the bed, letting him and his daughter sleep in it.

"Old warrior's like me 'r glad o' a warm blanket an a roof, farmer," I said. "Owin' t' me ain't puttin' the girl onta floor!"

Dinner was hot and plentiful, but fighting the cold, wet headwind had worn the farmer out, and I was giving the same impression, so we were in our blankets and asleep well before the inn had settled down for the night. We were up at first light and in the common having breakfast when we were approached by a burley man in a wagoner's leathers and what had to be his son, based on their resemblance.

"The innkeeper says you folks are heading for Whitecliffs?" He said as a question.

"We are," Hayrick answered. "This is my daughter Trellis, I am Hayrick Valse, and this is Slant."

"I'm Fever Eusel and this is my son Clap. I've got two wagons of goods headed for Whitecliffs myself and thought to invite you all to travel with us the rest of the way."

"Ya doin' yer own drivin' on them wagons then, or ya got drivers?" I asked.

"Yes, we have a hired man on each wagon and my son and I have been working as outriders."

"Blades?" I asked.

"All of us are armed and the drivers are ... experienced," He answered.

"But yer a'fret 'r The stretch twixt here'n there 'n so yer lookin' ta us?"

"There are some reports of brigands in the hills between here and the coast and the innkeeper says larger parties are usually left alone, so I"m looking to increase our numbers," The wagoner said.

Hayrick looked at me, deferring what he saw as a tactical decision to my mercenary experience.

"Good enow. Practical answers, me old capt'n used to say. When ya leavin?"

"We're out getting the wagon's hitched now. We'll be ready whenever you finish your breakfast unless the young miss needs more time?"

"The little'un's a smart hand onta road, quick'n we'll be out."

We asked after and bought a journey meal, wrapped in leaves and ready to be thrown into a campfire for warming. We had Bunny, their horse hitched up to the coach in short order and were on our way. The wind had died at least, but the drizzle had turned to an honest rain.

I spent the first hour finding out how they were handling the outrider's duties.

The driver of the lead wagon was named Float, and he was plain-spoken and obviously experienced.

"The heavy rain will work in our favor more than likely, unless the brigands have eyes and ears at the inn, in which case they are not likely to know we've grown in number unless they sent a rider flying the moment you spoke. Magic means aside and all."

"Ye checked a' te stable?" I asked.

"Yep. We are the first out, which was our plan. Unless all three people in the stable are working for the brigands, we asked all of them separately."

Both drivers wore decent leather armor, and Float had a chain mail cap and leather padded iron guards on both forearms. I asked if they had any extra for Hayrick and they scrounged up a good padded leather chest piece and a horn hat with a felt liner. I felt a little better about his survivability if we encountered an ambush.

Forewarned and forearmed, we of course met absolutely no one traveling in either direction on the road, let alone an ambush. We arrived at the gates of Whitecliffs just before evening meal on our seventh day of travel.

Whitecliffs was named for an obvious geographic feature, similar to the cliffs of Dover back on Earth. The harbor itself was on a spit of land several miles from the cliff, and unlike Beletara, the waters in the area were shallow and difficult to navigate. While this presented problems, it also provided security to the people who had originally settled the area. Merchant ships coming in and out of the area had to have local harbor pilots.

The Government House and most of the Guildmaster's homes were built close to the cliffs, which meant Whitecliffs itself was a long, strung out collection of buildings that followed a narrow shoreline.

The Eusels and their drivers were headed for the warehouse district, and Hayrick and his daughter were headed for the Wizard's Guild House. I followed along with them, checking into an inn called The White Axe. The accommodations here were quite a bit nicer than anything we had experienced on the road, and of course now that we were here, I was paying my own way.

Once I was in my room and happy with it, I headed back down to the inn's common room. The evening meal was a meatloaf, roasted onions and peppers were buried like little treasures in it, and a rich spicy gravy topped it. We had roast potatoes and carrots as well. Rather than wine, I had a local apple beer that was a refreshing change from the usual fare, but only average as far as beer went. I listened for a while after the meal to the entertainment. They had a trio of musicians, two Cuestas and a Zator. A man and a woman with finely matched voices took turns singing a variety of songs and several duets. They did a credible rendition of 'The Beletaran Love Song' that had been Thistle and Starlight's finale on Midwinter's Eve. They did not even try to capture the complexity of the instrumental accompaniment, wisely choosing to simply reinforce and strengthen the melody. With that, I went back to my room, set my wards, and was soon fast asleep.