Johnny and Shaker bantered back and forth, forgetting about Connor as they fell backward in time. With his mouth shut and his ears open, it became evident that not only had Connor’s father known these two men, they had been close friends. Close enough for them to be surprised, and skeptical about Connor’s claim. With his spark of realization, a flood of hidden memories rushed through his mind.
When Shaker and Johnny’s conversation finally circled back to Connor, the interrogation began.
Shaker plopped down off his barrel, jiggling inside his poorly tailored uniform.
He held up a hand to his friend, saying, “I got’s this Johnny.”
“So yer J.D.’s boy are ya?” Shaker asked.
“I am.”
“How come’s we ain’t never heard a ya before?” Johnny shot, from atop his barrel.
“Johnny!” Shaker insisted, “I got’s this!”
“Well then get to it Shaker! If this kids lyin’,” Johnny said, putting his hand back on the hilt of his sword, “I’m gonna stick ‘em.”
“Me and Johnny known yer old dad since just ‘bout the time he messed up his arms, and he ain’t never mentioned ya. Now here ya is, showin’ up, tellin’ us some tall tale ‘bout being our friend’s boy, an we’re just suppose ta believe ya?”
“It’s good to know I bumped into friends of my father.”
“Well, we ain’t yer friends,” Johnny growled.
“That’s right,” Shaker agreed. “Now tell us yer story or Johnny here’s gonna stick ya fer lyin’ ta us!” He made a jabbing motion toward Connor as if he had a sword in his hand.
Johnny pulled his sword out of its scabbard a few inches, twisting it until the sun glimmered off the blade onto Connor’s face.
“My story,” Connor repeated, trying to piece together a version of his current situation that not only shed a positive light on his father but didn’t break his agreement with Ross. “My story is complicated, but I’ll tell you what I can.”
“We wants the whole thing or nothin’ at all,” Shaker insisted.
“I can respect that,” Connor acknowledged. “Do you mind if I stand up while I talk it out? I do my best talking when I’m walking.”
“Where we heard that before Johnny?” Shaker asked, smacking Johnny on the arm with the back of his hand.
Johnny smiled down on Shaker, showing the blackened stumps that fit like broken puzzle pieces into his swollen pink gums.
“Just like old J.D.’s said a couple a hundrit times,” Johnny said, pointing to the ground next to Connor. “Right in this very spot, he has.” He nodded his head making his helmet rattle around like a tin cup at the end of a stick.
“All right,” Connor began. “How about I tell you some things you probably already know? Then I’ll tell you some things you don’t. Will that help convince you I’m J.D.’s son?”
“We’re listenin’,” Shaker said, pulling his barrel closer to Johnny’s. It took him two tries, and he was a little winded when he finally got back on his perch. He adjusted himself, looked up at Johnny, and said, “Not a word! Not today, I’m not in the mood.”
Connor paced back and forth in front of his audience. “Here’s what I know, that you already know. First,” he said, holding up his hand and sticking a finger into the air.
Shaker elbowed Johnny.
“My father got his arms chewed up when he went to the Kingdom. Second,” he stuck up another finger, “Jacob Miller died on that trip and left his house and everything he owned to my father. It’s just down this road about three miles.” He lifted another finger, “The emergency key is behind a loose rock in the wall of the well,” another finger went up, “and there is a hidden forge under the pile of hay in the barn.”
Connor stuck out his thumb, opening up his whole hand, “Fifth, the old man was both a Blacksmith and a Cooper, but he got kicked out of both guilds on account of his arms.”
Johnny’s cap rattled around in agreement, and Shaker was smiling and squirming around on his barrel.
Connor held up his other hand with a finger raised, and announced, “The old Duncan house inside your walls was built by my father and my grandfather, and it’s still standing today. At least it better be. Seven, my grandfather is the Blacksmith Guild Master for the King’s fleet and has been for a long time now. Eight, my father owes money to a lot of people behind these walls, including yourselves.”
Connor lowered his hands and pulled out his pouch of gold. Taking out three gold coins, he placed the bag back in his pocket and stepped directly in front of the men.
“Nine,” he said, holding out one coin to Johnny.
Johnny held out his hand, and Connor dropped the coin into it. “Here’s the ten silver he owed you, plus interest.”
Holding out the remaining two gold pieces for Shaker, he said, “Ten, Timothy, you were more than generous, and I think this covers what you loaned, plus a little.”
Shaker’s mouth opened, and he and Johnny looked at each other with expressions of joy and bewilderment.
Connor bowed deeply, raised himself up, and said, “Per my father’s request, his debt is repaid. He also wanted you both to know that because of your generosity, he will always be in your debt.”
He turned away, not wanting to dwell on the gold. It needed to be given and forgotten as if the act itself was of no consequence and unworthy of gratitude.
With his back to them, he held up a single finger, announcing, “And now for what you don’t know.”
Turning left to resume his pacing, he caught the reaction of Johnny and Shaker out of the corner of his eye. The gold was quickly tucked away, and both men had been moved beyond words.
“First,” he said, waving his finger, “I am the boy J.D. dropped off at an orphanage eleven years ago when he left for the Kingdom.” He turned on his heels, pacing back in front of the men. “That trip cost him his arms. Second,” up went the next finger, “I just got back from the Kingdom, that’s where J.D. was headed the last time you saw him. I’m sure you knew where he was going, but I’m not sure you realized who was going with him, or why he thought it was so important.”
He turned again and when he was in front of Johnny and Shaker, he stopped, and asked, “Did you know where he was going? Or who he was going with?”
Johnny started out by saying, “Well we had a pretty good idea he was goin’ there, but none of it made no sense ta us.”
“Yeah, but we’s didn’t know who he was gonna do it with or why he’d be doin’ it again. We seen what happened to his arms, but he didn’t say that happened at the Kingdom. He said it was an accident from when he was smeltin’ in the barn, out at old Miller’s place.” Shaker said, self-consciously rubbing his arms.
“Yeah, well those burns didn’t come from fire or metal or anything like that. And he was definitely going back to the Kingdom to try again, but this time, he had a secret weapon.”
Hitting Johnny again with the back of his hand, Shaker doubled over laughing. “Secret weapon ya say? That’s the funniest thing I ever heard. Did he have the Crystal Sword?”
Connor didn’t move a muscle, he just stood there looking at them as they had their fun.
“He never did tell you how it happened, did he?”
Shaker regained some of his composure and managed to say, “His arms ya mean? Yeah, I told ya. Smeltin’ accident.”
Connor rubbed his arms for effect and stepped closer to Shaker. “So I guess he didn’t tell you the truth on that one either.”
Shaker and Johnny stopped their fooling around and focused on Connor.
Connor started pacing again and held up his third finger. “Three,” he announced in a severe manner, “This one is probably going to take you both by surprise. When he was at the Kingdom the first time, he discovered the magical diary of Celeste. It’s a book so fantastic, it actually transports the reader back in time, into the Kingdom!”
Johnny and Shaker were wide-eyed and rigid atop their barrels.
“Four!” he announced with great bravado, “He also discovered the magic shield Celeste gave to her father at the same time she gave him the Crystal Sword. I’m sure you know the stories about the shield. The fact that it’s indestructible, and anything that strikes it is punished by a fate worse than death.”
Johnny got down off his barrel and walked up to Connor. He put his hands on Connor’s shoulders, stopping him in mid-stride.
“Git up on the barrel. I needs ya ta stop walkin’ round so’s we can git all this straight.”
“All right,” Connor said obligingly, walking over to Johnny’s barrel and hopping up.
Shaker slid down off his barrel, and he and Johnny stood in front of Connor.
“How did J.D. mess up his arms?” Johnny demanded.
“He tested the shield on the way back from the Kingdom. He hit it with his mace and the shield fought back. A lesser man would be dead.”
“So yer tellin’ us yer dad came home with the shield and the magic book, but he never told us ‘bout nothin’?”
“He knew it was too risky to tell anyone.”
“Well I’ll be jiggered!” said Shaker. “Ya think ya know a guy.”
“It wasn’t because he didn’t trust you. It’s because those magical things call to people. If you knew where they were, you wouldn’t have been able to help yourself. You would have taken them from him at any cost. You would have murdered your friend to get at them.”
“So why did ya go ta the Kingdom with yer dad?”
“J.D., myself, and my friend Andrew Weaver set out for the Kingdom a little more than a month ago. We had the shield to protect the Defender from the onslaught above. You know how the whole thing works right?”
“Don’t go gettin' smart with us. We knows more ‘bout it than ya might think,” Johnny said indignantly.
“We went there because my father had finally found me. He’d been looking all over because Andrew and I had left the orphanage years ago. After he had found us, we came up with a plan. It was simple really. If the shield couldn’t be destroyed, then the Defender couldn’t be defeated. If the Defender couldn’t be defeated, then the Hero was sure to emerge from the Chamber. Since I’m J.D.’s son, and since both Andrew and I wear the mark of the crescent moon, well, this was it. This was the time to rebuild the Kingdom.”
“Go on!!” screamed Shaker. “Don’t leave us hangin’ like that. What happened?!”
“The short version is the plan didn’t work. My father used the shield, but the creature in the Chamber is something I can’t even come close to describing. When it was done attacking him, his back was broken, his arm was shattered, and I was still up in the Chamber. Then something happened, and I got kicked out, all the way back to the border of the Wastelands. There wasn’t anything I could do for him.”
“Maybe that’s why them waves a Light came rollin’ cross the land an wrecked everythin’? Maybe that was all yer doin’,” Johnny spat.
“It wouldn’t surprise me a bit,” Connor lied.
“All right, get down off me barrel,” Johnny demanded. “Yer makin’ me head hurt with all this stuff.”
Connor turned to Shaker, and asked, “You believe me, don’t you? You know I’m J.D.’s son, right?”
Shaker stepped past Connor, ignoring his questions and moved next to Johnny.
“Johnny, a word with ya over there please.”
Johnny nodded, his cap rattled annoyingly, and he took it off his head. He looked back at Connor with anger and hurt in his eyes.
“So he’s dead isn’t he?” Johnny demanded, gripping his pointed helmet with all his might.
“I didn’t see him die Johnny, but you know what the Kingdom does, and I don’t see how he could have gotten away. I guess it’s possible, but in my heart, I could feel him go.” It was a terrible lie, but Connor knew he was just about to get his standing ovation.
Johnny threw his helmet at the broken down guardhouse. It pinged off a brick and bounced off into the underbrush.
Connor caught sight of a tear on Johnny’s cheek before he turned and walked over to meet with Shaker.
“Kneel down ya giant,” Shaker said. “I wanna see yer eyes.”
They were out of earshot from Connor when Shaker asked, “Do ya believe ‘em?”
Johnny wiped his face, and said, “We knowed J.D. better than any. We was his closest friends, especially with him bein’ an outcast an all. I’m really pissed off he never told us some a them things, but the crazy thing is, I’m kinda glad.”
“Yeah, me too,” Shaker agreed.
“I think the kid’s the real deal. He knows way more an somebody just makin’ up stuff ta try an convince us. He even called ya Timothy. Did ya notice?”
“He did? How would he know me real name if this’s the first time we’s ever met?”
“The only thing I figure is J.D. taught him everythin’ we just heard and more. Lot’s more by the sound of it. What do ya think, does he know more than he’s lettin’ on?”
“You mean ‘bout us?”
Johnny nodded his head nervously.
“If he does, then he really ain’t no different than J.D. ‘cept we’s don’t know where his loyalties lie.”
“Just what I was thinkin’.”
“So we agree he’s the kid?” Shaker asked.
“We do,” Johnny confirmed.
“Good. Then there’s only one thing left ta do.”
“What ya thinkin’ Shaker?”
“We asks him straight out if he knows our business.”
“And ifin he says no?” Johnny asked.
“Stick ‘em!”
“And ifin he says yes?”
“We swears him ta loyalty, cuts ‘em in fer ten percent and treats him just like he’s J.D. After all, this kid’s gonna need our help if he’s gonna come outa that place with any gold left in his pouch. And any kid a J.D.’s really should take the old man’s place.”
“What if he don’t wanna swear?
“Stick ‘em!”
“Shake on it!” Shaker insisted.
They both spat in the palm of their right hands and shook.
Johnny walked over to Connor and grabbed him by the arm.
“Hey, what’s the big deal? Didn’t I pass?” Connor asked, trying to pull away, but the man’s grip was like a vise.
“Oh, ya passed all right. Problem is, we’s got one more problem.”
Johnny pulled and pushed Connor over toward the broken down guard house until he was backed up against the pile of rubble.
“What’s the big idea boys? I thought you knew who I was.”
“We do,” said Shaker, “and cause a who ya are, we got’s a sneakin’ suspicion ya know a wee bit more ‘bout us than we’s cared to ask.”
Johnny pulled out his sword and pushed Connor on to the pile of debris. Connor fell backward and was half lying on, and half sitting on the old bricks and mortar.
Johnny leveled the point of his sword at Connor’s chest, and said, “Ya gets one shot at this kid. We’s gonna ask ya two questions and if you gets ’em wrong, yer dead. If ya gets ‘em right, ya can take yer dad’s place, and we all live happily ever after. Deal?”
“Since you’re the man with the sword, and I’m the man on his back, I’m going to go along with whatever you have planned.”
“Of course, ya are,” sneered Shaker.
“Well, go on!” Connor insisted. “Let’s get it over with.”
“Question number one,” Shaker said, holding up a single finger. “What do we do fer a livin’? And if ya say guard the city, it’ll be the last words that ever come from yer mouth.”
Connor touched the tip of Johnny’s sword playfully and smiled at them. “Shaker,” he said, looking at the short, fat man. “You are without a doubt the biggest supplier of the King’s finest whiskey on this side of the city wall. And you,” he said turning to Johnny, “your brother, the man running the King’s distillery, is probably the single largest thief in the whole place. Together, you run more barrels of whiskey and ale out the back of this city than anyone dreams to imagine.”
“If yer with us, yer take is ten percent. Yer job is ta keep yer mouth shut and do whats we tells ya.”
“What if I’m not with you?”
Johnny pushed the tip of his sword into Connor’s chest until it drew blood.
“On three conditions,” Connor said, with a confident grin.
“Name ‘em,” Shaker replied.
“One, You pay me no money, we keep to your original deal and in return, you help me when I need your help. I need contacts, I need introductions, and I need to know who to avoid. I need to know what you know, and if I need your influence, you’ll be there to help.”
“Agreed, but it don’t less’n yer commitment, it just brings ya in closer.”
“Precisely.”
“What’s yer second request?”
“You will never mention my father’s name again. I am Connor Duncan, not J.D.’s son. I will pay off his debts, and I will be my own man. Others may speak his name, and you may agree that I am who they say I am, but neither of you will ever mention his name again.”
“Agreed.”
“My last request is simple honor amongst thieves. Knowing I can trust no one else, I must trust the two of you. With that trust comes an oath that you will never steal from me, and you will never lie to me. If you can’t keep to that, drive your blade home right now; because if it’s not now, it’s just a matter of time.”
“Agreed, but that goes both ways.”
“Agreed,” said Connor.
Shaker looked up at Johnny, and they both reached a hand out to Connor, hauling him to his feet.
“I assume ya ain’t got nothin’ but the clothes on yer back?” Shaker asked.
“That, and a terrible hunger.”
“We can fix both of ‘em. Johnny, ya got watch until the next two idiots shows up. Connor and me, we’s goin’ into town.”
“What’s that smell?” Connor asked as they made their way through the crowded, dirty streets of the marketplace.
“Ya really are a country boy ain’t ya?” Shaker said, laughing and patting Connor on the back. “It’s just what ya think it is, and lots of it.”
“Seriously?” Connor gagged, holding his nose. “Do people just do their business right out here in the street?”
“Well most of ‘em go’s in the gutter, but that’s the smell a humanity at its finest.”
“It’s disgusting!”
“Yeah, it sure is, but don’t worry, ya get use ta it.”
“I was hungry, but now I don’t think I could eat anything,” Connor said, feeling sick as he watched the brown, lumpy water running down the cracked and broken cobblestone lane.
“Come this way,” Shaker said, pulling Connor by the sleeve. They made their way down a long, narrow alley. “Let’s get ya somethin’ that’ll stick ta yer ribs, then we’ll get ya cleaned up a bit.”
They quickly came upon a faded, weathered wooden sign sticking out into the alley. It had a picture of a howling wolf sitting in a crescent moon with stars around it.
“Come on,” Shaker said, “we’re eatin’ here. It’s the best a the worst. You’ll love it.”
Shaker put his shoulder to the old wooden door, and Connor noticed a large paper nailed to it.
“Come on!” Shaker said impatiently as Connor stood in the doorway reading the flyer.
“Wait a minute, I want to…”
Shaker walked over and tore the paper from the door, crumpling it as he shoved it in Connor’s chest.
“Stupid things are everywhere. Ya can read it at the table. Now let’s get a seat and a bite ta eat!”
They walked into a dark, smoky pub that smelled of stale ale and fresh vomit. Things squished on the floor as they walked through the crowded room and Shaker yelled something to the nearest serving girl. Connor was busy trying to read the poster from the door, but the candlelight was too dim, and the smoke made his eyes burn.
“Corner booth,” Shaker said to Connor, half leading him and half pushing him into it. “I’ll be back in a minute. I gots some business ta look after.”
Connor slipped on something greasy and caught himself on the edge of the table. He scraped his foot across the wooden floorboards and scooched himself into the “U” shaped booth. The table was sticky, and the light from the small candle butt made him think twice about setting anything on it, even his elbows.
The serving girl appeared out of nowhere and started wiping the table down with a dirty rag.
“This oughta help keep yer elbows from stick’n,” she said, offering Connor a smile.
Connor looked up and was taken aback by her black eye and missing front teeth.
“What?! Is there somethin’ in me hair?” she asked, laughing in his face. Her fishy, rancid breath made Connor feel queasy.
“What? Oh, no. I’m sorry, you just startled me that’s all. I didn’t know you were there.”
“Yer sweet,” she said, touching him on the cheek. “I’ll be right back with drinks and somethin’ ta eat.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling back. “Could I get another candle too, please? I wanted to read this.”
“With a smile like that,” she said, winking at him, “an ya can read, I’ll fetch ya anythin’ ya wants love, anythin’ at all.”
Connor blushed as the smell of old fish, rancid body odor and stale ale filled his nose.
“Just the candle would be nice, thank you.”
The girl giggled and limped off to some darker corner of the pub.
Connor looked around for Shaker and saw him come out of a back room. The girl was limping back toward the table with two candles in a small holder. When she got to the table, she started to say something to Connor, but Shaker grabbed the candles and shoved her aside. Her head bounced off the wall, and she slumped to the floor.
Shaker slammed the candles on the table and was just about to kick her, when Connor yelled, “Leave her be! She was only doing what I asked. You didn’t need to push her like that!”
Connor got out of the booth to help the girl while Shaker laughed.
“Sit down!” Shaker demanded.
“You sit down! What gives you the right to treat anybody that way?!”
“Oh, go on then,” Shaker said sarcastically. “Go ahead, help the poor little miss.” He laughed, hopping into the booth. “Better make sure ya still gots yer money when she walks away.”
Shaker leaned out of the booth, and yelled, “Get up ya lazy piece a trash, an’ git me my food or yer gettin’ the boot!”
Glaring at Shaker, Connor helped the girl to her feet.
“Thank ya, kind sir,” she said, holding her hand to her head.
“Are you all right?”
“Don’t nobody never mind ‘bout that sir. I’m sorry ta bother ya. I’ve gots ta get back ta me customers.”
“Now GIT!” Shaker yelled, “And hurry it up!”
“I’m sorry mister Shaker sir, I’ll do better next time.”
With blood running down her forehead, the girl attempted a dignified exit and disappeared into the crowded pub.
Connor sat down in the booth, scowling at Shaker.
“Still gots yer money?”
Connor patted his pocket, “Yes. Why did you do that to her? She wasn’t doing anything?”
Shaker just laughed. His triple chin and his entire body jiggled. “What are ya gonna do, make a sword?” he asked, still laughing.
“What?”
He pointed to the crumpled flyer on the table, and Connor read it for the first time:
By Royal Decree
In honor of our beloved King Pridarius the Third, all Smiths are hereby requested to make a funerary sword worthy of our magnificent and glorious former King.
All swords will be presented for judging at ten bells on the morning of the fourteenth day of this month in the inner courtyard of the castle.
By order of our new and glorious King, Pridarius the Fourth, the winner will be granted
Any Single Request
He read the final words aloud, “Any single request?”
Two mugs of ale hit the table and a plate of sausage, chicken, potatoes and carrots were tossed in front of them by the bartender.
“Put it on me account,” Shaker said, without looking up.
The bartender grunted and left them to their meal.
“Pridarius is dead?”
With half a sausage in his mouth, Shaker mumbled, “Yeah.” He swallowed and washed it down with several gulps of ale. “He was sitting on his high and mighty throne, in his high and mighty throne room when the ground started shaking. That’s when his high and mighty castle fell on his fat, pompous head.” He started laughing again, making the entire booth shake in rhythm with his chortling.
“What day is it?” Connor asked.
“The tenth. Why, ya gonna do it?” he asked, still laughing.
“I don’t have the skill to make the blade.”
“Thought ya was a Smith?”
“It’s not steel that’ll win the prize. The blade needs to be made out of crystal or maybe glass.”
Shaker screamed with joy, and started yelling, “Glass! A glass sword?! That’s the funniest thing I ever heard! Yer a funny guy! Now eat yer food, ya got lot’s ta get done.”
Connor was completely full by the time they stepped out of the pub. He hadn’t eaten that much in his entire life, and he wasn’t quite sure why the world kept moving in and out of focus.
“A horse!” Shaker announced, staggering from the doorway into the alley. “Let’s do that first!”
“It’s going to take too long. I told you, I’ve got to hurry if I’m going to have any chance of making the sword.”
“All right, all right,” Shaker slurred. “Ya can borrow one a mine fer a few days.”
“I need saddle bags too, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. Saddlebags. Got it!”
“Can you meet me at the bakery in three hours?”
“Ya know, yer kinda pushy fer a new guy. It’s a good thing I really liked yer old dad,” he hiccupped, looking like the perfect picture of drunkenness.
Swaying back and forth, Connor held up three fingers in front of Shakers face, and said, “Three hours, please. A horse with saddle bags is all I ask.”
Shaker looked at the fingers in his face and pushed them away. Reaching up, he grabbed Connor’s neck, pulling him down until they were eye to eye. He got overly serious, the way drunk people do when they try to appear sober, and said, “Can ya really do it, my boy? Do ya really thinks ya got a chance?”
Connor put his hands on either side of Shaker’s face and the two locked eyes.
“Trust me,” he said. “I’ll make the closest thing to the real thing anyone has ever seen, and when I get my request, you’ll be glad we’re working together.”
“Three hours it is then,” Shaker said, reaching out for the wall to steady himself.
“I’ll see you at the bakery.”
Connor patted Shaker’s overly round cheek and started moving toward the smell of the market. By the time he exited the alley, the smell of humanity made him want to vomit.