‘What the fuck do you want?’ said a voice to her left, and she snapped her head round to see a tall fella looking down at her. He wasn’t bad looking, or he wouldn’t have been if he weren’t frowning. He was stripped to the waist like the rest but he had the pelt of some great white beast draped across his shoulders. His bare chest was visible, all scarred and muscled, and Rag had a bit of trouble dragging her eyes away from it.
‘Been sent with some food,’ she said, holding up the tray.
He kept his eyes locked on hers, but reached out with a hand and took some potted eel. Held in that gaze she almost dropped the tray and made a run for it, but without another word he just turned and walked away.
Rag let out a sigh, before moving around the edge of the courtyard. There were more warriors watching from the sides and she walked over to them.
‘Got some goodies from the kitchens here,’ she said, trying to sound confident, like there was nothing out of the ordinary about a girl wandering the barracks with a tray of food. The group of warriors glanced across at her, none of them saying a word in reply. One reached out and took a pie, but the others never made a move.
Now she was here, Rag started to wonder how in the hells she was going to find this Ryder. How was she supposed to start that conversation?
Oi, lads! Anyone know Merrick Ryder?
Why do you ask?
Erm … because he’s pissed someone off in the Guild and I’ve been sent to bloody find him.
Yes, that was sure to grab her some attention, and probably a sharp knife in the ribs.
Rag was going to have to come up with something, and fast. She’d thought this might be one of those times when being ignored was a good thing, but that wasn’t turning out too well. Maybe it was time to be the centre of attention.
The soldiers at the middle of the courtyard had finished swinging their swords, and another batch of around twenty were readying themselves to take up their positions. Rag walked out onto the courtyard, right in front of them, holding out her tray for all to see.
‘Come on then,’ she said with a grin. ‘Get it while it’s going. I haven’t got all day.’
Some of the warriors looked at one another in confusion. Others tried ignoring her, but Rag was determined to have none of that.
‘What’s the matter? You’re not telling me you ain’t hungry, all that bloody sword swinging. You must be bloomin’ famished.’
This raised a smile from a couple of them, and one even strolled over, sword in hand, and plucked a pie from her tray.
‘Any good?’ she asked loudly as he took a bite.
He just nodded his reply, too busy chewing to talk.
Another of them came forward, and before he could take something from her, Rag looked him up and down and gave a whistle.
‘Ooh, you’re an ’andsome fella, and no mistake,’ she called out, trying to sound like one of the street girls from Dockside. ‘I could take quite a fancy to a big strong bloke like you. What’s your name then?’
Well, it seemed as good a place as any to start. Friedrik had told her what Merrick looked like — average height, brown hair, handsome — and this bloke seemed to fit the bill. Problem was, so did half the other lads in here.
‘My name’s Hennar,’ said the warrior, plucking a piece of fish from the tray. ‘And you don’t look old enough to have had your blood yet. So take as much of a fancy as you like, but I’m not interested, girl.’
With a shake of his head he popped the food in his mouth, then walked away.
That didn’t really work out to plan, now did it?
‘Hey lads, these are good,’ said the soldier who had taken a pie. Next thing, Rag was swamped by sweaty half-dressed warriors, all reaching out to take a piece of food. In no time she was left holding an empty tray.
That was it; she was left with nothing, standing in the middle of the courtyard. As the soldiers began to line up to begin their training she slunk to the edge of the square. No one was watching now; it was as if she were invisible again.
Stick to what you know, Rag. Don’t bring attention to yourself.
Gently she placed the tray down so it leaned against the wall, then she moved towards the nearest door of the barrack building. She had no idea where she was going, or what she was looking for, but there just might be some clue somewhere — she might overhear some crumb of gossip that pointed her in the right direction. By all accounts this Merrick Ryder was a big-mouthed bastard, so surely it wouldn’t take long before she heard word of him.
Inside was a long empty room lined with uncomfortable-looking wooden pallets. From the look of them she’d have got a better night’s sleep on the roof of the Bull, but thankfully those days were well behind her.
She crept further into the room, checking the bunks for any names that might have been written on them. In the past weeks Rag had done her best to learn her letters, Friedrik had insisted on it. She’d already had some schooling back in the old days before her mother had abandoned her for some smooth talker from Silverwall, and it hadn’t taken much to pick it up again. Looking around though, there was not so much as a pair of initials written on anything.
As she made her way through the building Rag began to feel that old fear creeping up on her. What if someone came? What if she got caught creeping around in a soldiers’ barracks? She’d have some questions to answer then all right.
Don’t be soft, Rag. Concentrate on your business. Whatever this lot might do to you for snooping will be a sight nicer than what Bastian and Palien will do if you fuck this up.
Rag balled her fists. She’d been through worse than this. Weren’t nothing to be done about it, so best get on.
The door at the end of the room led into a little chamber with desk and parchment and ledgers. Her heart beat a bit faster as she moved forward with a quick glance to the little round window that let in the only light. No one could see in, and outside she could just hear the sound of soldiers running through their swordplay, swinging and shouting as they went about fighting their invisible enemies.
She turned her attention back to the desk. Opening the ledger she stared at the neat script and silently she thanked Friedrik for those long boring days of teaching her what the letters meant.
In the first ledger was a list of supplies going back months — food and weapons and the like. Rag moved on to the next book; a diary of some sort. She looked back through the entries, seeing it was a list of the comings and goings, realising that the lads outside swinging their swords like there was no tomorrow were most likely the Wyvern Guard. Whoever this diary belonged to was definitely pleased at their coming, writing about how grateful he was that the city was practically saved. Whoever the diary belonged to was also particularly happy about the return of his old friend Tannick …
… Ryder!
Rag breathed out, thinking for a second she’d found her man, but then it weren’t Tannick she was after, it was Merrick. Perhaps they were related. Brothers maybe?
Frantically she flicked back through the pages, seeing if there was any more word of him, but she hadn’t gone back more than a couple of pages before something moved behind her.
She stopped, placing the book down and slowly turning at the noise. There, standing in the doorway, was a woman. She was big, must have stood a good six feet tall, her shoulders broad as a bloke’s, the look on her face as grim as any fighting man Rag had ever seen.
‘Looking for something?’ said the woman, her voice deep and hard, like no woman Rag had ever heard before.
As a matter of fact I am. A fellow named Merrick Ryder. Have you seen him?
‘I’m … er … lost,’ she said, and realised how fucking pathetic that must have sounded.
‘Really?’ She said it like a question, but Rag could tell by the look on her face she already knew the answer.