Of Truth and Beasts

A young woman in leather breeches and a patchwork vestment of earthy colors crouched at a nearby fire. She tended a large iron kettle, boiling some eggs, and she was about to drop in tea leaves as well, making a meal and drink all at once.

“May I speak with a team leader?” Wynn asked, hoping someone here understood Numanese.

The girl rose, her black coiled braids not even shifting. She pointed at a large man in a suede coat crouched before a wagon’s wheel, which he inspected with great attention.

“A’drinô,” she said. “Chieftain A’drinô handles all trade for our clan.”

“Thank you,” Wynn replied, heading off, though Ore-Locks was already on the move.

She hoped the dwarf would follow her lead before trying to strike any deal. She untied her cloak to expose her gray sage’s short robe.

“Master A’drinô?” she asked.

He turned from the wagon wheel and stood up, hands on his hips, as if the interruption was unwelcome. Then he saw her companions and grew puzzled. He was as tall as Chane and clean-shaven, with a long, red-gold braid down his back, tied in place with a fraying golden ribbon.

Wynn offered him a polite nod. “I am Journeyor Hygeorht of the Calm Seatt branch of the Guild of Sagecraft.”

“Calm Seatt?” he repeated, his accent marked with elongated vowels. “You’re a long way from home.”

“Yes. I’m delivering an official communication to the premin of the Lhoin’na guild branch. Are any caravans headed that way?”

“What do you offer for passage?” he asked bluntly.

“Service as guards,” Ore-Locks cut in, gesturing to himself, Chane, and even Shade.

He already sounded too assertive—which was the way of dwarven barter. But Wynn hoped he wouldn’t get any worse.

“We have guards,” A’drinô returned, but he did eye Ore-Locks and then Chane for a moment.

“Not like us,” Ore-Locks said flatly. “Not even close.”

His manner had the wrong effect. Wynn could almost see the chieftain’s expression closing up. Ore-Locks was normally quite effective at bartering. A’drinô clearly thought the only gain here was for the dwarf, and the caravan chieftain’s brow wrinkled.

Wynn was about to jump in when Chane said quietly, “We will take the night watch. Your own guards will be rested for daylight journeying.”

A’drinô eyed him. “You’ve done night patrol? You know what is required?”

“Yes, as has the ... wolf. She is well trained.”

Wynn clamped her hand over Shade’s nose, in case Shade understood what he’d said.

A’drinô finally nodded. “Well enough. My men can use more sleep, but you’ll have to supply your own transportation and food. We’ve no room, and we leave at dawn.” 

Chane watched Wynn’s expression change from relief to alarm as the caravan chieftain walked away. They had no wagon as yet, and the city would be closed up for the night.

“I will find a wagon and horses,” he assured her, glancing back the way they had come. “You and Ore-Locks try to find more food at the nearest market—anything still available.”

“Shouldn’t I handle the barter?” Ore-Locks added, and crossed his arms, still gripping his staff in one hand, as if put out by his near failure.

Normally he would be correct, but Chane was not going to settle for just any wagon. They still had a potentially long journey ahead, should Wynn find clues among the Lhoin’na to the remains of the long-forgotten seatt. They could not afford to buy the type of team and wagon necessary.

“Fresh food is just as important,” he told Ore-Locks. “Help Wynn barter for proper stores.”

If this flattery affected Ore-Locks, he did not show it.

“Come on,” Wynn said. “We have only tonight. We’ll meet back here.”

With one last glance at Chane, Ore-Locks followed Wynn and Shade toward town.

Chane waited until they were out of sight and then headed shoreward. A caravan station on the outskirts would not be the only place to land cargo in a port. He worked his way along the waterfront’s southern end, watching for any sign of a major stable nearer the warehouses. It did not take long.

When he spotted a likely place up an inland side road, he looked all ways for anyone in the streets. Testing the wide stable doors, he found they would not budge. The fact that they were barred from the inside actually brought him some relief. This also meant there had to be another exit—or entrance. The stable master had closed up for the night and would need another way out.

The closest people were more than two blocks away, so he slipped around the building’s side, down the cutway, reaching an alcove off the rear alley. The stable’s rear door was padlocked from the outside. It took little effort, and a little noise, to dislodge the locking plate from the doorjamb.