Lucius Tallerus rose earlier than usual the next morning. There was no work ahead for him in the day, so he pulled on the leather road clothes he had worn upon arriving in Bond and hung his large sword on his back.
A handful of dried fruits served as breakfast in the main room of the Rusty Scabbard, and Lucius was on his way along the streets of the city within a half hour of the sun rising.
He followed South Road nearly to the southernmost wall of the city and turned west along a dirt road for several blocks.
Before him stood the barracks of the city guard, two stories tall and the longest structure in the city. Lucius figured it must be nearly a half-mile trot all the way around the building.
He looked around for a public entrance, spotted what he thought was it and jogged up the stairs between several orange-garbed guards who were exiting. Once through the door, Lucius found himself in a long hallway lit by open windows. He was brought to a halt by a table to one side of the hall and two men in guards’ uniforms sitting behind it.
The older of the two guards sat up straight and stared at Lucius. “Your name and business?”
“Lucius Tallerus. I am here to see Sergeant Gris.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but I am a friend.”
“Sure you are,” the guard said, pointing at a parchment, pen and ink bottle on the table in front of him. “Sign here.”
Lucius put pen to parchment while the older guard ordered the younger to find the sergeant.
After the one guard jogged his way down the hall, Lucius looked up from signing his name. “Should I wait outside?”
“No need.” The older guard glanced at the parchment. “Gris is just starting his shift. He will be along in a minute.”
The guard was proved correct when Lucius soon saw his friend marching straight for him.
Gris smiled and offered hand. “I wondered when I’d see you again.”
Lucius took the hand and shook. “Sorry I didn’t search you out again sooner, but the Asylum has been keeping me busy.”
Gris opened the exit door and motioned for Lucius to follow him outside. “You coming by saves me a trip.”
The two men were soon walking side by side down a dirt path away from the barracks.
Kron rolled his shoulders as if to loosen stiff muscles. “Why did you need to see me?”
“I heard what happened at the Asylum.”
Lucius’s lips remained closed as he stared ahead.
“How do you feel about it?” Gris paused in his tracks.
Lucius stopped next to his friend. “The lunatic killed a man. He got what he deserved. We faced worse in the Prisonlands.”
Gris gave a dark grin. “That’s true, but it’s different in the Asylum. The place ... it rots the mind. It can do funny things to a man.”
Lucius nodded in silence.
The sergeant put a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “Why were you looking me up this morning?”
“I had the time, for one thing. The chief guard at the Asylum gave me a couple of days leave.”
“You’re not looking for another job already, are you?”
“Not exactly, but I could use more coin. Living at the Scabbard has grown expensive. I need to find a proper place of my own, or find employment that allows me room and board.”
“That would be the city guard.”
“Or the military.”
“You don’t want to sign up with the service.” Gris’s brows furrowed in concern. “The city guard might not be much, but at least we know the right end of a sword. The West’s army is a joke. You might as well join the militia. I’m sure your own weaponry is better than anything the army has to offer.”
“What about a knight?”
Gris laughed. “You? A knight?”
“You misunderstand me.” Lucius added a chuckle of his own. “Could I not sign on as one of their attendants?”
“They’re called squires,” Gris explained while they continued to walk, “and it’s doubtful they’d have you. You’re not a regular churchgoer, are you?”
“No.”
“That would cinch it. The church appoints them, so most knights only take the faithful.”
“I don’t suppose you have any openings yet?”
Gris shook his head. “Nothing permanent.”
“I hear there’s going to be a social affair at Belgad’s.”
Gris stopped walking and glared at Lucius. “How did you hear about that?”
“Word gets around.”
The sergeant frowned. “I want you to stay away from that man.”
“Who? Belgad?”
“Yes, Belgad. He’s a powerful man who can be trouble.”
“Remember who you’re talking to. I can take care of myself.”
“No, you listen to me.” Gris stepped nearer his friend and pointed a finger at him. “This is not the time to become involved with Belgad the Liar. There are rumors a street war’s brewing, and Belgad is in the middle of it.”
Lucius stepped back with the palms of his hands facing his friend. “I didn’t mean to rile you, and I definitely didn’t mean to imply I have any desire to work for Belgad.”
Gris huffed and stepped back, giving them both breathing space.
Lucius lowered his hands. “I was only asking about the party because I thought you might be hiring on extra help.”
“We’re hiring temporary recruits for that night, but I won’t be working. I’ve been invited to the damn thing.”
Lucius grinned. “So, you warn me off, then you go and jump into the lion’s mouth.”
“I might not be officially working, but it’s part of my duties to attend such events.”
“Couldn’t I sign on for the night even if you’re enjoying yourself?”
Gris’s gaze was not one of mirth. “I doubt I’ll be enjoying myself.”
“Don’t make me beg,” Lucius said, holding out a hand. “I need the coin.”
Gris shook his head and stared at the dirt beneath his boots. Lucius was trained in taking care of himself, but Gris didn’t feel right about sending the man to the home of Belgad the Liar. Then again, he had gotten Lucius employment at the Asylum, and there weren’t many local places more dangerous.
“Alright,” Gris said, taking Lucius’s hand and shaking it. “I’ll get you signed up for deputy duty that night, but I’ll make damn sure you’re assigned outside the mansion. It’ll be street duty for you, my friend.”
“As long as it pays.”
***
A healer had to find time for relaxation and enjoyment, especially a healer who hailed from Kobalos. Randall told himself that as he eased back in a cushioned chair in his office and opened a leather-bound codex.
It had been a long day for Randall, applying herbal wraps to Trelvigor’s flesh and focusing his own magic upon healing the wizard. Stilp had dropped in while sporting a nose nearly broken and had sought curing for his ills, but Randall had sent him to another healer within the tower complex. There was only so much Randall could do, and his body and mind were taxed enough.
Randall needed to forget his weariness and turned his attention back to his book. It wasn’t often he had an opportunity to relax.
A knock sounded at the door to his office.
The healer placed his reading material on the desk next to his chair and sighed. “Enter.”
The door swung open to reveal Maslin Markwood.
Randall was instantly out of his chair. “Maslin, come in,” he said, motioning the wizard to a seat.
“Thank you, my boy.” Markwood took a chair across from where the healer had been sitting. “Please, sit. I know how tired you must be.”
Randall consented by returning to his cushioned seat.
The wizard shifted slightly into a more comfortable position, with a hand flattening out his robes over his knees. “I apologize for not coming sooner.”
“What happened with your divinations?”
“Someone, most likely Verkain, was attracted by my presence.” The wizard did not appear happy at his own words. “There was a brief struggle in the outside worlds, but I managed to escape. I do not believe I was traced here.”
“You weren’t. Otherwise I would already be dead.”
Markwood nodded in agreement. “Which is why I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I had to be sure my little adventure had not caused you any ill effects. Only after a couple of days did I feel enough time had passed to warrant meeting with you.”
“Did you find anything in Kobalos?”
“Nothing informative, other than your Lord Verkain is likely quite insane.”
Randall’s gaze traveled to the floor. “I don’t claim him as my lord.”
“I understand,” the wizard said, waving off his words. “On the matter of this Darkbow character, I found out even less. What little I did discover gave me the shudders. Like Verkain, he is likely not in his right mind.”
Randall looked up, his face somewhat pained. “What did you see of Darkbow?”
“Rage and death. I don’t believe it was directed at you. However, I felt nothing good about the man.”
“I will be wary of him.”
“As long as you work for Belgad, you will need to be.”
“It’s worse than that,” Randall said, his face clearing, allowing a slight grin. “I’ve been invited to a party.”
“A party? Who is throwing it?”
“Belgad.”
The look Markwood gave the healer was not a happy one. “I’ve warned you to stay away from that man.”
“I haven’t made up my mind if I’m going, but I’m glad you’re here. I was thinking of asking you to come with me.”
Markwood huffed and twisted in his seat as if exasperated. “Why in the name of Ashal would you want to go?”
Randall had to think about that. Why did he want to go? Because he was tired of spending all his time cooped up in one room or another at the tower? Randall wasn’t sure. He had not taken Stilp’s invitation seriously at first, but over the last couple of days it had crossed his mind more than once. He was also curious to see if Kron Darkbow would make an appearance. Randall wanted to see the man, maybe to find out if Darkbow was Kobalan.
The healer finally answered the old wizard. “I’m not sure.”
“My advice is against it.” Markwood frowned. “However, if you do decide to go, then I will allow it only if I am along.”
Randall smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”
***
“Swans?” Belgad watched three of the white birds preen themselves on his front lawn.
“They are all the rage this year, my lord,” Lalo the Finder said from behind his employer. “All the ladies are having them shipped in from Port Harbor for their gardens.”
Belgad turned a skeptical eye to his servant. “Do they have to shit on my lawn?”
“They have to go somewhere, my lord, and you said you wanted this to be a lavish event.”
Belgad glared back at the feathered beasts. “How much do they cost?”
“A mere three silvers apiece, my lord.”
Belgad continued watching the birds, his eyes more those of a displeased hunter than a wealthy business showing off for the masses. “For that kind of money we’re going to eat the damn things after the party.”
Lalo the Finder gave a rare smile. Humor was not something that surrounded the life of Belgad the Liar. Thinking he would find nothing more humorous in his day, Lalo was surprised at the sight of Stilp approaching through the front gates of the mansion’s surrounding wall. Stilp walking toward them wasn’t funny in itself, but the two pieces of thin wood wrapped to the sides of his nose were more than Lalo could stand. Belgad’s employee laughed out loud.
Belgad turned to see what the laughter was about.
Stilp pointed a finger at the Finder. “You can stop the hilarity right now.”
As the man with the busted nose approached, Belgad and Lalo could tell small balls of wool were stuffed beneath the sticks on Stilp’s face, and the skin around the man’s eyes was black.
Lalo had to put a hand over his mouth to stop his chuckles.
Belgad’s visage was little more pleased than it had been watching the swans. “What happened?”
“Darkbow.” Stilp could barely meet his boss’s gaze.
A glance from his employer turned Lalo’s demeanor serious.
Belgad grumbled. “What did he want?”
“To tell you he’s going to be at your party,” Stilp said. “Then he gave me this cracked nose and took nearly all my earnings for the month.”
Lalo suddenly appeared amused. “He’s resorted to stealing.”
Stilp gave the Finder a dark look. “He said it wasn’t cheap fighting a war.”
“I suppose it’s not.” Belgad glanced from Lalo and back to Stilp. “Did he have anything else to say?”
“He said to stay away from the Docks.”
“He’s still concerned about that,” Belgad said with a smile, showing a slight delight in being able to perturb his enemy, even if in only a minor way. “But I’ve no ill intentions on the dock workers. He’s behind this. Not them.”
“I also suggested he come to work for you.”
Lalo let out another chuckle.
“What was his response?” Belgad asked with a look of curiosity.
Stilp pointed to his nose. “This.”
Laughter burst from between Lalo’s lips.
Belgad let out a chuckle of his own.
“What’s going to be done with this madman?” Stilp fumed, one of his toes tapping. “Beating me up is one thing, but now he’s interfering with business. I don’t know how I’m going to pay your stipend this month.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Belgad said, still smiling. “If you’re a few silver short, I can swallow the loss for a month. The big prize will be Darkbow, and we have plans for him.”
Belgad turned and pointed a finger at the swans.
Stilp appeared none the wiser. “Birds?”
“The party.” Belgad rolled his eyes at the dimness of his employee. “I have a special guest coming just for Kron Darkbow.”
Stilp brightened. “You got Fortisquo out of retirement?”
Belgad looked at the man. He was surprised Stilp had been smart enough to figure it out on his own.
“Yes,” the northerner said, “and he has a student with him nearly as skilled as himself. I’m positive they’ll make short work of Kron Darkbow.”