“Take Khirro and Ghaul, Elyea. Purchase as much food as you can carry.” Athryn pulled a leather pouch from beneath his cape and handed it to her. “Maes and I have other matters to attend to. We will meet you on the south side of town at midday.”
Khirro waved as Athryn turned the horse the two men shared down a side street, leaving them to stock their supplies at the market. Ghaul grunted as they left, his way of saying he mistrusted the pair.
“How long have you known Athryn, Elyea?” Khirro asked hoping for an answer to quell his companion’s misgiving.
“Many years. When I was concubine of the king, he’d come to me in secret and distract me from my pain with sleight-of-hand. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he likely used magic to heal my wounds at the same time.”
“That doesn’t mean I should trust him,” Ghaul snarled.
“No, I suppose not, but I do.”
She guided her horse around a throng of soldiers crooning a discordant song as they staggered across the street outside a public house. One of them eyed the three riders, but quickly rejoined his comrades in their bawdy ballad.
“And what of that damned pet midget of his? Why does the boy not speak?”
“Don’t jest about him,” Elyea warned, her voice serious. “Maes was also forced to serve in the king’s court. The king was no less cruel with entertainers than with his concubines. Maes doesn’t speak because the king took his tongue.”
“Gods.” Khirro had assumed the little man born unable to speak. “Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“I don’t know. Athryn won’t speak of it. One day, before Braymon fought to free the kingdom, Athryn ceased coming to my chambers. It wasn’t until years later we crossed paths again. That Maes’ tongue had been removed was all he would tell me then, and he has told me no more since.”
A watchman’s eyes followed them as they rode past the guard house at the market entrance. If he noticed the bulkiness of their clothes or wondered at the shield lashed to Khirro’s saddle, he didn’t stop them. The lanes ahead, clogged by merchants and shoppers, were too narrow for horses so they guided their steeds to a nearby tree to picket them. A boy of no more than eight summers sat nearby, idly tossing pebbles at a stump. Elyea knelt before him, said something Khirro didn’t hear, then took a copper from the pouch Athryn had given her. The boy nodded excitedly and took the coin, a broad smile on his tanned face.
“The horses will be safe,” Elyea said as she returned. They took their packs from the horses and strode into the churning throng of market-goers.
Color and sound nearly overwhelmed Khirro as they waded into the marketplace, easily three times the size of Inehsul’s, which had been much bigger than the one in his own town. Khirro stared in awe at tents of green, purple or blue, some striped with white, all crowded so closely they left only enough room between for a line of customers to file past. The people bustling amongst them jostled for the best pick of produce or examined a merchant’s offerings. Each time Khirro moved, someone else bumped against the sword hidden beneath his cloak or his leather chest piece. Every person seemed a threat to their journey and he found himself wishing they’d taken Athryn’s advice.
“One thing I don’t understand,” Ghaul said, his words diverting Khirro’s attention from the worries brought by the spectacle around him. “Why does Athryn have so much concern for this midget? Would the world be a worse place if there were one fewer?”
“Would it be worse for one fewer smart mouthed fighting man?”
“You know what I mean.”
Elyea shook her head, sighed. “Maes is Athryn’s twin brother.”
“Twin?”
“Yes. Maes is the older of the two, but only by a few moments.”
“If this Athryn is so good and compassionate, why does he make his brother injure himself for the sake of a little trickery?”
Khirro interrupted their conversation to have Elyea pay for a package of salt pork. She took a coin from the pouch, then returned to speaking with Ghaul as Khirro stored the purchase in his pack.
“There is much I don’t know about these two,” she said. “But I don’t believe Athryn makes Maes do anything.”
“There’s much you don’t know, and yet you trust them,” Ghaul scoffed.
Elyea stopped, the tide of people flowing past as she turned to Ghaul, her face grave. “I trust them with my life. I’d be dead if not for them.”
“Hmph. If you trust them such, I guess we have no choice. But I’ll keep my eyes on them nonetheless. A magician is never to be trusted.”
“We should get potatoes and corn,” Khirro said changing the subject. “It’s their season, the flavor will be excellent.”
Fruits and vegetables lay displayed on stand after stand, some varieties even Khirro hadn’t seen before. As they wandered the stalls, Khirro explained to Elyea how different vegetables were planted and harvested, what time of year was best for which ones, and how to tell where melons were grown by the tint of their rind. His concern dissipated, eased by these familiar things and by Elyea’s appreciation of his knowledge.
Ghaul vetoed most of his selections because there would be edible vegetation in the forest, therefore no reason to waste space in their packs. Khirro deferred to his experience and they spent Athryn’s coin on dried meats, hard cheese, dark bread, and a quiver of arrows. When the money was spent and their packs full, they made their way back to the horses. Khirro pondered their journey as they walked. He’d never been this far south and knew little of Vendaria. He’d met merchants from the country, and knew they spoke their own language, but beyond that, all was a mystery. One couldn’t tell a Vendarian from an Erechanian except for their language and accent when speaking the common tongue-much like it was impossible to tell a Kanosee from either of them.
They reached the horses and found the lad still pitching stones at the stump. He jumped up when he saw them and gestured excitedly toward their horses and gear, showing them how well he’d done the job. Elyea took the last copper from Athryn’s pouch and flipped it to him. The boy caught it and ran off without a word of thanks, disappearing into the market to spend his new found wealth. Elyea laughed, delighted by the boy’s enthusiasm as they removed their packs and secured them to their steeds.
“Oy,” a voice boomed behind them. “I know you, wench.”
Startled, Khirro spun around. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Ghaul’s hand go to the hilt of his sword.
A man built like a barrel approached them on thick legs protruding from his massive body. Khirro found it hard to believe the border guard found a hauberk large enough to fit the man, yet he wore their colors. Elyea glanced at Ghaul and Khirro then back at the man, his mane of black hair and dense beard all but obscuring his features.
“I don’t think you do, good soldier.”
“Yeah, I does.” The man snorted and spat on the ground in front of Elyea; she took a step back. The odor of stale beer wafted from him. “You’re the whore from Inehsul.”
“You’re mistaken. Move along.” Ghaul stepped between them, but the man pushed him aside as though only a child.
“We have unfinished business, we does.” He grabbed Elyea’s arm. “I passed out before we was done, but you took your payment from me while I slept.”
He yanked her arm, dragging her toward the guard house. Elyea dug her heels into the ground, shaking her head and protesting, but the mountainous man ignored her. Khirro took a step after them then stopped, not sure what he could do.
“No,” Elyea protested trying to free her arm. The man pulled her along, her feet digging furrows in the ground.
“You need to be taught a lesson, whore. You can’t treat a man that way. You can’t-”
He stopped, body stiffening. Elyea pulled away as his grip slackened, the crowd pushing by as he swayed on his legs. The big man looked down; Khirro followed his gaze to the hilt of Ghaul’s dagger protruding from his side. The soldier slumped as Ghaul wrenched the blade free, catching him about the waist and guiding him to where the horses were tethered. A woman looked at them questioningly as she passed.