Chapter Fourteen

“A few days ago, my uncle’s lieutenant caught a man trying to recruit his fighters to go up and escort for a group called the Falsefort Merchant’s Guild. Falsefort is up near the edge of the Dragon’s Spine Mountains and serves as a gateway to some of the inner valleys. It seems they need help getting their goods to the inner settlements, and are trying to hire freelancers and whoever else they can get to guard their convoys. My uncle was so mad he looked like an apple and wanted to break the man’s neck.”

Ryland paused and they both grinned at the image of portly Dunstand Fiske turning bright red and chasing the poor man away.

“But, what’s bad for my uncle is good for us. We need a guide and a chance to get the lay of the land, and this could be a great opportunity to make a little coin while we do it.” Ryland rubbed his right fingers together in the universal sign of money. “We just need to go see him, and they’ll pay us to find out what we need to know.”

Koamalu nodded. “That’s good for me, uso. But what about you? Nobody’s hiring a baitfish when they need a shark.”

Ryland flinched, he knew it was true, but it didn’t make being reminded of his physical weakness any easier.

“Don’t worry, I’m already working on a solution.”

Koamalu looked skeptical. “Those things you call “exercises” you do in the morning? You don’t even stretch for an hour.”

“Those are just for health. No. I think I know how to get them to hire me. Just wait and see.”

Early the next day, Ryland and Koamalu left the walls of Northport and went out into the shanytown which surrounded the main city. They paused only to stop at the city gate offices so that Koamalu could pick up his beloved short spear and Ryland a package he’d ordered from one of the city craftsmen.

“Should I leave you two alone?” Ryland commented as Koamalu gently checked the spear, running his fingers over every part of it.

But Koamalu ignored him, pulling out an oiled rag from his side pouch to polish his weapon and remove the dust that had collected in the almost two weeks since he’d arrived in Northport. “I didn’t sleep some nights. I had dreams that someone sold it.”

Ryland rolled his eyes. “Yes. I know. You kept me aware too, talking in your sleep.”

Once Koamalu was satisfied, he put a cloth travel case over the spear and got up from the ground. It was only then that he seemed to even notice the oddly shaped bag that Ryland was now carrying.

“What’s that?”

Ryland smiled. “My ticket. Let’s go.”

With that, the two of them made their way through the shantytown until they reached a building that actually had a second floor and a fading sign out front - “The Temporary Beaver”.

Koamalu looked up at the fading green image of a poorly drawn mouse with a flat tail on the sign, “What kinda place is this?”

“The kind that is many things for many people,” Ryland said as he lead them inside. “But most importantly, is a cheap place to stay.”

The first floor of the inn was a large drinking hall with long tables - empty this late in the morning except for a few hungover looking types nursing their peas porridge. Around them a few servers who had the resemblance of family members were chatting and cleaning things up from the earlier breakfast rush. Somewhere in the back kitchen there was the clinking of dishes being washed, and the whole place smelled like sawdust and aging ale.

Attracting the attention of one of the older servers, a chubby girl with a poor complexion, Ryland waved her over. “Is Jaxon Rudge still here?”

“You here about the job?” She said, sizing Ryland up briefly and then giving Koamalu a longer, more appreciative look.

“We are.” Ryland said, “Have there been a lot like us?”

“A couple,” she shrugged, still admiring his companion.

“Could you do me a favor?” Ryland asked. “And tell us a few things about him?” Then he produced a copper, which brought her attention back to him. “Nothing too personal, of course.”

Once they were done talking, Ryland lead Koamalu up the side stairs to the second level, heading to room the man was renting.

“Uso, why did you ask her those things? Why care what he eats or does at night?”

“You can learn a lot about a man from his habits,” Ryland answered as he looked for the right room number. “And we need to know everything we can to have a successful negotiation. Hup?” Ryland was suddenly caught blindsided as a small dark cloaked figure the size of a child of ten summers dashed from behind to pass between him and the wall. The figure was hooded and carried a small bag in their hands. He had neither heard them coming, nor was even aware of them until they were already past, and it caused him to freeze in momentary surprise.

This was long enough for the little shadow to move like lightning down the hallway and then disappear into one of the doors at the end on the left side. The closing of the door seemed to snap him out of his surprise.

“Quick little fish.” Koamalu sounded impressed.

“Very.” Ryland agreed on both counts.

As it turned out, the same door the small figure had entered was the one which they were going to, but before they could knock there was the sound of anger inside.

“What’s this? Dried bark?” Came a man’s voice. “How am I supposed to smoke this? Can’t you do anything right you useless little wretch?!?” Followed by a bang and a thud as something fell hard to the floor.

Then there was stamping, and the door suddenly flung open, putting Ryland and Koamalu face to face with a sharp featured man a little taller than Ryland. His face was red, and he looked at them testily. “What do you want?!?” Ryland saw he was carrying the bag that the small figure had carried moment before.

“We’re here about the job,” Ryland said plainly.

“Ah.” Said the man, then he seemed to notice Koamalu behind Ryland. “Ah!” he said again, this time with more emphasis. “C’mon in then.”

As the man stepped side, Ryland and Koamalu entered the room. It was a suite with two rooms, Ryland judged maybe one of the few this inn had. This room was the sitting room, small with a worn table and rickety chairs, and there was a door which would lead to a bedroom against the one wall. The floor was uneven wood which creaked as they walked over it, and the man offered them the chairs at the table.

As they sat, Ryland noted there was a small cloaked figure huddled in the shade underneath the room’s single bright window. With the still cloak over the figure, he couldn’t get a good look at it, but saw something that made an eyebrow raise.

Then his attention was drawn back to the man across the table, who thrust out a hand for Ryland to shake. “Jaxon Rudge of Falsefort.”

“Cade of Steepcairn,” Ryland shook it, noting the callouses on the other man’s grip.

“Mos of Brinekeep,” Koamalu also shook the man’s hand, using the pre-planned fake names they’d chosen for this job.

Jaxon looked to be only five or six summers older than them, but had a large orange moustache to match his full head of mussed orange-brown hair. He was a little chubby, but not fat, and dressed in wrinkled and stained clothes with breath that stank of too much wine.

“Cade, Mos - good to meet both of you.” Jaxon said, clearly trying to adopt a professional air despite the awkward circumstances. “How did you two hear of this job? Are you working as escorts?”

Ryland shook his head. “We’re freelancers. We’ve got friends in the Watchdogs who told us you were looking for people.”

“I am.” Jaxon seemed to perk up a little when Dunstand Fiske’s group were mentioned. It was taking a chance to use that name, but Ryland gambled on their reputation being worth the risk. “The right people. Have you two ever done escort work before?”

“It’s how we got here.” Ryland said, “We brought up a flock from Freyland. They went back a few days ago, but we stayed to find something else. We’re looking for something a little more long term.”

Jaxon looked at him, confused. “You’re a bunch of sheep herders?”

Ryland smiled and shook his head. “No, but there were sheep in with the convoy. Will our job with your company be moving livestock?”

“Nah.” Jaxon belched. “Not usually. We’re guarding merchants while they trade with the folks up in the mountains. Either of you from the mountains?”

“I’m a fisherman,” Koamalu said. “But Cade’s family lived in a valley keep.”

Jaxon raised an eyebrow. “A valley keep? You a noble’s son?”

“Oh, ah.” Ryland said, he was supposed to be the one doing the talking, but he guessed his talkative friend couldn’t help it. Thinking fast, he continued. “Not the lord. I’m the son of the gamekeeper.”

“Oh!” This brought a grin to Jaxon’s face. “My father’s a gamekeeper too. He serves Lord Ravenkeep.”

“But not you?”.

“Naw. I told me dad where he could shove his rabbit pie and apprenticed to the arms master. No skinning bloody anything for me.” Jaxon looked very self satisfied as he said it. “It the same for you, then? You wanted to get out?”

Ryland shrugged. “No choice. I’m the youngest.”

“Ah. Yah. Yah. I get yah.” Jaxon bobbed his head. “So you any good with the bow, then?”

“I can hit a target,” Ryland lifted the wrapped package he was carrying. “You want to see my shooter?”

“Naw,” to Ryland’s surprise, Jaxon waved his offer away. “If you’re a gameskeeper’s son you’ll know how to shoot better than any of the other sods I’ve had to talk to. You can show it to me later.” Then he turned to Koamalu. “And you, big fella. What do you bring to a fight besides your muscles?”

Koamalu tugged the string that held the cover on his double-bladed short spear and let it slide off to reveal the weapon underneath. “My spear speaks for me. You want it to talk, just ask.” He gave Jaxon a full toothed grin that Ryland was already used to, but which others found intimidating.

It worked on Jaxon, who gulped. “Ah. No. That..that’s good. That’s good.”

Taking advantage of the moment, Ryland said. “So, tell us more about the work.”

Jaxon happily switched topics and began explaining the job.

They would be guarding convoys doing two or three week trading circuits through the mountain valleys near Falsefort. The base pay would be one copper a day, with bonuses at circuit’s end, and more later if they proved themselves. The convoy would provide food and bedding during the trip, but they’d be in charge of their own gear and expected to take care of themselves.

When asked about what kind of trouble they might face, Jaxon shrugged.

“Nothing a few blades can’t handle. A few of the locals get ideas sometimes about the goods, or feel they got ripped off and want to return the favor. Sometimes we get a cat, a villek, or a couple of monkeys causing trouble, and we have to shoo them away.”

“What about goblin raiders?” Ryland asked.

Jaxon flinched, and Ryland looked over at the figure in the cloak to see two big round yellow eyes looking out at him. Their eyes met for a moment, and Ryland saw fear and worry in them, then they disappeared back into the shadow of the hood.

“Don’t you worry about goblins,” Jaxon said quickly. “We ain’t got no problems with them.”

His suspicions confirmed, Ryland turned back to Jaxon. “I see. Good to hear.”

They talked for a short time longer, but in the end Ryland and Koamalu accepted Jaxon’s offer of the job and left shortly before lunch.

“He has no idea what he’s doing.” Ryland commented as they returned to Northport’s inner streets.

“Realy?” Koamalu said, chomping on a skewer of crispy trout skin.

Ryland nodded. “He didn’t check our credentials or ask for references. He didn’t ask to see our skills. There was no contract. We didn’t discuss costs related to incidentals or compensation if we’re injured. And, on top of that, he doesn't know what a flock is.”

“A bunch of sheep?”

Ryland smiled at that. “Yes, but not that kind. A “flock” is escort slang for the merchants we guard. Don’t use it in front of them, though, because the merchants tend to get testy about it.”

“So, he’s not an escort.”

“No. Just some footman that’s convinced a bunch of town merchants who don’t know any better to put him in charge. In fact, that they put him in charge and sent him down here means they’re in trouble and didn’t have a lot of choices.” Ryland sighed.

“Why’d we sign on with him, then?”

“We don’t have a lot of choices either,” Ryland gave an ironic smile. “Besides, with no contract, if things look too dicey we can always quit. I want to see what it’s like up there.”

Then Ryland heard someone calling his name, and turned to see who it was…