Akiri: Dragonbane Page 12

  “I’m glad that’s over,” he muttered, and then glanced to Akiri. “And since I was kind enough not to turn you in, maybe you can repay the favor and help my man secure the wagon.”

  Akiri nodded. “Of course.”

  “Good man. I’m a believer in fair exchanges.” The other man was nearly as tall as Akiri, with broad shoulders and a bald head. “I’ll be at the tavern when you’re done,” he said to his companion, and then returned his attention to Akiri. “And if you plan to find a room, you might want to join him. If Hayes tells me you’re a good worker, there might be a job for you. Best not waste any time.” Without waiting for a reply, the man ambled away in the direction of the music.

  Hayes gave Akiri a sour look that could happily have curdled blood. He hopped into the driver’s seat of the wagon. “What are you waiting for?”

  “I’ll walk,” said Akiri.

  Hayes shrugged then urged the beast forward with a snap of the reigns.

  Akiri followed, paying close attention to the layout of the town as they went. He had to look at the fellow as an opportunity and make the effort to ingratiate himself. From his demeanor, that would be done with work and muscle rather than kind words and humor. So much the better. His new workmate knew the town and probably everyone who lived in it. He was possibly a keg of information, if not a font. All Akiri had to do was tap it.

  They brought the cart to a nearby warehouse, which took no more than five minutes, and after a few more, including a brief conversation with the master, they unloaded the wagon, which took a good quarter hour. Done, they took the cart to a livery a few buildings down and stabled the ox. Hayes barely spoke two words throughout the entire ordeal. The way he handled the heavy goods spoke volumes, though; he’d lived a life of hard industry.

  “You did well,” Hayes grunted grudgingly. “Tomorrow I’ll tell Dema to hire you, if that’s what you want.”

  “Perhaps,” Akiri said, not giving anything away. “Depends on the wage.”

  Hayes nodded. He was a man of few words, and Akiri appreciated that. “The boss is at the tavern if you need a room for the night. He’ll front it.”

  “Which one?”

  “Follow the music. You’ll find it.”

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  Hayes shook his head. “I don’t like to be around Dema when he drinks. He’s got a bad habit of getting me into fights.” He rubbed at his jaw.

  “Good to know,” remarked Akiri.

  “Word to the wise: if he gets you in trouble, just keep that sword of yours sheathed. Folks around here may be stupid enough to let Dema get under their skin, but they don’t deserve getting killed over his flapping lips. Things can get out of hand damn quick when he’s had too much ale. It’d be a crying shame.”

  Akiri agreed. “Thank you. I don’t plan on killing anyone tonight.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Hayes left him to it. Akiri made his way back to the main square, listening for the faint strains of the flautist’s melody, then followed the music down a broad avenue. The buildings were simple in design, functional but sturdy. There was a promenade running along either side, and he saw several of the town’s folk moving down the street toward what was obviously the watering hole. They were clad in simple attire; like the buildings, the onus was on functionality. This wasn’t a place that reeked of wealth, but more tellingly it wasn’t beset by obvious poverty, either. There were still beggars, filthy skinned, but not skeletally thin – which meant they ate. In his experience, you could judge a town by how it treated its poor. The stench of fish hung in the air, but the streets were clean. All in all, there were worse shores he could have washed up on.

  The sound of laughter – proper boisterous, joyous laugher – joined with the flute. A sign hung over the door that read The Fisher King’s Wife, which surely would have made the woman in the painting below the Fisher Queen.

  While he pondered on it, the door was flung wide and a couple of the townsfolk stumbled out, already filled with the good spirits that could only be found at the bottom of a bottle.

  Akiri went inside. The interior was a match for the exterior. The room was filled to capacity, with several long tables down the middle and a long bar at the rear. There were women working the tables while the flautist sat on an upturned barrel in one of the corners. She’d gathered quite a crowd of appreciative listeners to her side, and not just because she was one of the most strikingly beautiful women he had seen in some time. Her talents were exceptional; as good as he had heard in much more elegant surroundings. Men and women sat side by side, drinking at the tables. The serving maids pushed through the crowd keeping their tankards filled up and the banter overflowing.

  Again, like the town itself, he was left thinking there were worse places he could have found himself, but he wasn’t here for frivolity. Akiri spotted Dema with three men on the far side of the room. Though the merchant was grinning broadly as he took copious draws from his mug, his companions looked less than thrilled by whatever the big man had just said.

  “We had a deal, you rat-faced little bastard,” one of the men was saying as Akiri approached.

  “Not only did we, we still do,” Dema replied with a grin. “It’ll be honored, boys. You know me – I’m good for my word.”

  “Aye, we do know you, that’s half the problem.”

  “Oh, so cynical. That’s an ugly trait in a young man. But you’re right, it isn’t going to be at the price you hoped, I’m afraid.” Dema offered a ‘What can I do?’ shrug typical of conmen the world over. “Unless you know of someone else with a supply of Argonian silk? I didn’t think so. We both know you’ll pay what I am asking.”

  The man rose from his chair, hand reaching for the knife at his belt. “I should slit your fat throat.”

  “Maybe you could try,” – Dema nodded his head in Akiri’s direction – “But from where I’m sitting, I’d say it would probably end badly for you.”

  The man looked at Akiri and sank back down. “You’re scum, Dema. That’s what you are. And that’s all you’ll ever be.”

  “Big words, Clem. I like to think of myself as a businessman, and this, this is just a transaction. Not worth losing your head over. This time I win. Maybe next time you’ll be the one getting over on good old Dema. Who knows?”

  The other two men stood. But neither were warriors, and it was painfully obvious they didn’t want to butt heads with Akiri. Not that he wanted to get his fists bloody; the last thing he wanted to do was fight. He wanted a drink. He wanted to relax for a time, if the chance arose, but mainly he wanted to find the man he’d come looking for and end this. So he kept it easy, and said, “You could always offer them something to assuage their anger, no? Good customers are hard to come by, am I right?”

  Dema raised an eyebrow. “I could do that,” he said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “It just so happens I have an extra case of Bolarian whiskey. It’s mighty fine stuff, some of the finest out of the region. You know what, I’m feeling generous. What say I throw it in, help the price go down a little smoother?”

  The man’s eyes darted between Akiri and Dema. “Fine. I suppose that will have to do. But next time we do business, every last one of your promises is going down in writing, and you’re not weaseling out of the deal. Or I’ll have you before the magistrate. Understand?”

  “Of course, of course. Only fair. Let it be so, my friend. Now that we’ve settled this unpleasant business, what say you head over to the bar and give me a few minutes alone with my comrade here? We have a few private matters to discuss.”

  When they were alone, Akiri took one of the empty seats. The song changed, and a fiddler now joined the woman. Akiri waited while Dema drained his mug.

  “Nicely handled, uh…?”

  “Akiri.”

  “Akiri what?”

  “Just Akiri.”

  “Ah. Well, as I said, nicely done, Akiri. I was afraid poor Clem was going to be unreasonable. I’d have hated to have t
o kill him. Bad for business.”

  “Bad for a lot of things, I’d have thought,” Akiri said.

  When the serving maid next passed, Dema ordered Akiri a mug of ale. “Unless there’s anything else you fancy?” He looked at the woman, who met his gaze frankly, and offered a smile. She didn’t return it. “Now, now, Greta, be nice.”

  “I am nice,” she said. “I’m bringing you a drink, that makes me the nicest woman in your life right now.”

  Akiri laughed at that. Slowly the levity of the tavern was easing his burden.

  “I see that Hayes decided to stay away,” Dema remarked. “Let me guess. He told you I get him into trouble.”

  “Something like that,” Akiri said.

  Dema laughed. “He’s right. I do. I even enjoy it. I can’t help myself. But what is a man to do? Some people just can’t take a joke.”

  “Well, for one thing, a man could learn to hold his tongue.”

  Dema tilted his head, looking at Akiri properly for the first time. “Bold words from someone looking for a job. Are you always so direct?”

  “Always. And I’m not looking for work. I need information.”

  Dema regarded him for a long moment. “Okay, I think I like you, Akiri. So, in addition to helping you find lodging for the night, what say I trade you whatever information I can, in return for something I want?”

  Akiri frowned. “That would depend. What do you want?”

  “Nothing much. Certainly nothing you aren’t in a position to offer – only your presence while I conduct a little bit of business tomorrow. Let’s be brutally honest, a man like you at my side will make some rather delicate negotiations progress relatively smoothly.”

  “I’m not going to fight for you,” he said.

  “Wouldn’t dream of asking you to. Just do some intimidating to make sure fighting doesn’t break out.”

  Akiri did not like the idea of being used like that; but again, it came down to expedience. If saying yes could end his hunt tonight, then yes was the wise thing to say.

  “If the information is useful, we have a bargain.”

  “Can’t say fairer than that, so ask away.”

  “I am seeking a man who entered the town today, possibly a few hours before you arrived.”

  “Is he local?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. He was dressed in red and black robes.”

  “Hmm,” the merchant mused. “A priest, perhaps? Anything else you can tell me about him?”

  “Only that he came from the other side of the lake.”

  “To be fair, that’s not much to go on,” he said. “But I’ll do what I can. Wait here while I ask around. You never know.”

  Dema pushed himself from his chair and crossed over to the bar. After a few words with the bartender, he returned. “I’ve had word put out, the inns and boarding houses are being checked, so if he’s here, we’ll know in a few hours. In the meantime, how about we drink?”

  Dema ordered a pitcher of ale and began regaling Akiri with tales of his travels. The son of a baker from the east, near the Great Valharoth Desert, he had left home when he was a young man in search of his fortune. That had been a long, long time ago.

  “The life of a merchant isn’t exactly what I was looking for,” he confided. “But if I’m being honest, I’m rubbish with a sword. So, it’s not like striking out on some grand adventure was ever in my future. Besides, it’s a good living. I would say honest, but, well, you’ve seen for yourself how flexible that word can be. So, your turn, Akiri. What about you?”

  Akiri shrugged. “Nothing much to tell.”

  “I see. A man of mystery. Well, let me try. From the looks of you, I’d wager you’re a true slayer. Now, I’m a great believer in thinking a couple of steps ahead whenever I can. First thing I noticed that you might call out of the ordinary – a dragon was watching the road. That, my new friend, is a rare sight in these parts. The second thing, of course, was you smuggling yourself into town. So, two things, they couldn’t possibly be linked, could they?”

  “Her name is Kyra,” he said. “She is my companion. A word of caution: you’d do well to stay clear of her. She is not in a forgiving mood.”

  Dema held up his hands. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t dream of trying to capture such a deadly beast. I value my life far too much to do anything even half as stupid. Trading in trinkets and bobbles is enough for me. I leave danger to the young and foolish.”

  The words were right, but something told Akiri the other man wasn’t being entirely honest. Men like Dema were driven by greed, and Kyra represented an untapped fortune. Being from the east, he would know just how valuable Kyra would be to the right buyer. It would be hard for a greedy man to resist. “Kyra is deadly. But like I said: she is my companion.” He fixed his gaze. “Should you ignore your good sense, the dragon will be the least of your worries.”

  Dema’s smile broadened. “Just as I thought, a true slayer. Peace. Even had I the means, the markets where dragons are desired are too few and too far for me to travel these days. I’m a homebody at heart.” Dema changed the subject, explaining that he lived a few days’ travel east of the town and spent most of his time trading locally. It had been a long time since he had ventured further afield. After another hour the bartender waved him over. Akiri watched the brief exchange, trying to read their lips, and where he couldn’t, their body language.

  “I’m afraid no one has checked in anywhere today,” Dema said, when he returned. “Could this person be local, or maybe know someone in town?”

  “Does the name Yarrow mean anything to you?”

  Instantly Dema’s smile vanished. His voice dropped until it was barely above a whisper, demanding, “Where did you hear that name?”

  “So you know it?”

  Dema looked around the room for a moment. “Of course I know it. But how do you?”

  “That’s not important. Now tell me what you know, and tell me truthfully. I’m in no mood for lies.”

  Dema hesitated, his eyes filled with fear. Before he could speak, a voice called out from across the tavern. “Dema! You son of a whore!”

  The tavern went instantly silent. All eyes fell upon four men who moved through the room until they stood a few feet from their table. Akiri studied them. The one who had shouted was a grizzled-looking man with a long ponytail and crooked nose from where it had been broken one time too many. The other three were younger, all well-built. All of them carried short swords, and none looked happy to see the merchant.

  “This is the part where I swear on my mother’s life,” muttered Dema. “Help me and I’ll help you. There are things you need to know about Yarrow. And I’m the only one who’ll tell you.” He plastered a friendly smile on his face and looked up at the newcomers. “Well, if it isn’t Ushton Malor. What the devil has got your blood worked up, old man?”

  “You know damned well what,” he replied. “The nets you sold me were worthless. I lost a whole week’s catch thanks to you.”

  Dema spread his arms wide, placating the man. “There’s no need to get upset. I’ll happily replace them. My word is my bond. You know that. I’m always good for it.”

  “You’ll replace everything we lost?”

  “Of course. Just say the word.”

  “How about you start with my brother? He died trying to save the catch.”

  The color drained from Dema’s face. The situation had just turned about as sour as it could have. “Sweet Mishna, Ushton, you have my deepest sympathies. But you have to believe me, I did not know there was anything wrong with the nets I sold you.”

  “I’ve had enough of your lies. I’m giving you a choice, here and now: either stand and die on your feet or I’ll cut you down where you sit. You decide.”

  Akiri stood and moved to put himself between the pair. “Listen to me,” he said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. “Your grief is clouding your judgment. You’re not thinking clearly. Leave now. Your death will not honor your brother.�
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  “And who the fuck are you?” scoffed Ushton. “Dema’s new lapdog? Run along, before you get hurt.”

  “I am Akiri. And because your heart aches, I will ignore your poor manners. But do not test me further. I am weary from travel and in no mood for a fight.” He glanced down to the merchant. “Dema will make restitution, will you not?”

  “Yes. Yes. Of course. I’ll give you double what you lost.” His hands were trembling. “To honor your brother,” he added quickly.

  Several of the patrons began to move to the far side of the tavern, making room for trouble.

  There was a long tense moment.

  One of the men at Ushton’s back leaned in from behind and touched his shoulder. “Not here. Too many eyes.” It was clear that he had no desire to face Akiri. Ushton may be blind to the danger he faced, but his comrades were not.

  Ushton’s knuckles were white as he gripped the hilt of his sword. “This isn’t over.” He hawked and spat a wad of green phlegm into the merchant’s face. And with that, the four men stormed out of the tavern.

  Akiri waited until they had left before returning to his seat. After a few moments, the music resumed and the tavern returned to its previous state of revelry.

  “Thank you,” said Dema, wiping away the spittle with a handkerchief from his pocket. “I owe you a debt.”

  “You can start to repay it by telling me about Yarrow.”

  “Of course. Of course.” He looked around. “But not here.”

  The other patrons cast wary glances in their direction. The smart move was to leave, particularly considering that Ushton’s sorrow and anger would, before too long, get the better of him, and he’d return ready to demand blood. Better for him to find an empty table and give him time to calm down. Akiri had no desire to kill a man who simply wished to avenge his brother’s death. In fact, had the circumstances been different, he might have stood aside. It was likely that Dema was guilty of what he had been accused. And if so, Ushton deserved retribution.

  Dema spoke one final time to the bartender, passing him a few coins, presumably for the trouble. Once in the street, Akiri took stock. There was no sign of Ushton and his comrades, so they started to walk back to where he and Hayes had left the cart.