Chapter 3 - Tikor

Although he did not catch sight of Leyeb again, they did see quite a few traveling in the opposite direction, back towards Calster. There were also a few who came from Calster, passing the caravan on faster, sleek-looking horses. He recognized the uniform on several of them as the King's messengers. Headed towards Calster were farmers, other caravans, a small unit of soldiers, and one troupe of performers. They had the opportunity to be setting camp for the night at the same time as the performers, and Old Fredrickson arranged for the two to share the fire. Old Fredrickson seemed to know a lot of the people they passed on the road, and was familiar enough with the performers to offer to feed them that night in exchange for a performance. They did a series of short, comedic pieces, broken up by bits of song and juggling. Matner felt it was probably the best performance he'd ever seen, far more entertaining than the bit of opera that had been done at his graduation party. There had also been a barrel of ale shared by the performers, which had left him feeling warm and relaxed after only one mugfull.

The towns and villages decreased in frequency as they moved away from Calster, and he noticed that they seemed to increase again as they neared the smaller city of Tikor. While Calster was situated on both sides of the larges river in New Callest, Tikor sat just east of one of it's tributaries. It was thinner, and shallower, however so the trade that ran along it was done on smaller boats, many of which were more like big, flat rafts that were steered up and down the river by men with long poles. The river also seemed to move faster than Matner was accustomed to seeing from Calster, and the men struggled to keep the boats in check, with the goods strapped firmly down and covered in canvas.

The marketplace in Tikor was located alongside the river, with docks available to the merchants. Setting up camp was a much more frenzied affair, with Old Fredrickson and Frank both giving instructions to get everything set up for selling. It took them a good couple of hours before they had everything arranged, both for camping and selling, to Old Fredrickson's satisfaction. He hobbled around, tweaking this or that, and giving commands, until he gave a satisfied nod. That seemed to be a command of some sort, as suddenly most of the guards seemed to vanish. Matner found himself standing there alone - even Sameth had scurried off somewhere. Frank came over, chuckling.

"I guess we forgot to tell you," Frank said, "first night in town especially, the last one to leave has to stay and watch over camp while the other go explore."

Frank sighed. "There's always at least one of them from the caravan that stays, but there always needs to be one of us here to guard over it. You're new, and didn't know, so tonight I'll stay. You, go explore, but stay out of trouble. Do you want to pay for an inn, or sleep here?"

"Here is fine," Matner said. "I'll come back and help you watch over things. Is there any reason to expect trouble?"

"Not really. But if nobody's watching things, there's always thieves about looking for an easy mark. As long as we don't look easy we'll be fine."

"Oh, alright. I'll be back in a little bit then, thanks."

Matner wandered off into the town. He had a little spending money, but saw no need to squander it on a room at an inn. As much as a proper bed would be nice, until he had a way to replenish his money he felt he should preserve it.

He was still wearing his armor, he realized, but so would the others. He wondered where they had gone off to, and wondered if they had spread out or stuck as a group. In the end, he did not care. He was still in a strange city for the first time. It was time to see how this one was different.

The marketplace itself wasn't much different than either of the ones he was accustomed to in Calster, although a bit smaller overall. Like Calster, it was set close to the river, so that goods could be transferred off boats and traded easily. He saw merchants haggling with boatmen, the same way the customers haggled with the merchants. While he'd seen such sights before, he realized that he'd never really noticed them until now. He was seeing this city from a different perspective than he'd looked at Calster.

He moved out of the market, into the rest of the city. Immediately outside the marketplace were inns and taverns, and he thought he spotted Linden heading into one of the taverns as he passed. Here and there music drifted out of the windows, sometimes getting louder as someone opened a door and headed inside. Voices mingled together into a muffled hum as he passed, conversations washing over from one building to the next. Sometimes snippets would come to him more clearly, and he would pause to listen. Most seemed to be about the goods coming in on the river, goods in the marketplace, and the weather in various places. He moved on again, wondering what the rest of the city was like.

Beyond the inns and taverns, he found a street that was mostly shops, although many were already closing for the evening. Above them, lamplights flickered. Lines of thin rope ran between windows, spanning high across alleyways, and laundry was tied or clipped onto them, swaying gently in the breeze. Somewhere, he heard a woman singing. For a short while he followed the voice, and came upon a small park, where a woman sang to a small gathered crowd.

She wore an embroidered green vest over a white shirt and a green skirt with yellow flowers printed on it. She entered the chorus of the song as he came closer, and she danced a little jig during it, kicking up her bare feet slightly as she danced.

She also held a small tambourine, which she alternately shook and drummed. The song he recognized as a sailor's ditty, sung by boat crews as they worked. Leyeb had sang it a number of times and tended to whistle the tune without even being aware of it. He did not know the name, however.

He thought she sang it well, and her dancing was lively and free looking. He stayed for another song. Her next one was about a woman looking forward to her lover's return from war.

After that song she stopped, apologizing that it was time for a drink and a rest, but that she'd do more tomorrow at around the same time. A few people dropped coins onto a cloth at her feet where she had a small bag for her things. She also had a small flute sitting out on top of the bag. He moved closer and added a small coin of his own, thinking she deserved it.

"Thank you," she said to each who did, him included. She smiled sincerely as she did. As people started to wander off she gathered up the cloth and wrapped it around the coins before tucking the small bundle into her bag.

"I'm at one of these corners most nights, but you're not from near here, are you?" she asked.

"No, how can you tell?"

"Your boots," she said. "People's shoes an' boots tell me a lot about them. Those look like quality boots, but they've a fair amount of road dust on them. You're armed and mailed, but you don't carry yourself like a soldier. I'm guessing mercenary or caravan guard, but I'd wager a tuppence on caravan guard."

"A tuppence, eh?" he laughed, reaching into his pocket. "You got me, first try."

"Don't be silly," she grinned, putting a hand up to stop him. "I had you at an unfair advantage, really."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she nodded, as she tucked her tambourine into the bag and then slung it's strap over one shoulder. "I traveled for most of my life before I decided to stay here. My parents were with a gypsy caravan."

"I see," he replied. "What made you choose this place over others then, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, let's see..." she paused a moment, looking about the park as if it would answer the question for her. "I guess I liked that it's not as busy as some cities can be, but not so small that there's nothing fun to keep one's interest. 'Though, honestly, it was a young man who caused me to stop here. Sadly, however, he didn't stay stopped himself."

"Oh," he said, suddenly feeling awkward. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. To his surprise she laughed again.

"Don't worry, I've settled in nicely thank you. But it's kind of you to have that worried expression. Come, walk with me a while. Unless you've got something better to do?"

"Well," he said, "I was just out and about walking around and seeing the city. Having a local guide, even if only for a short while, would be nice. I'm Matner," he added.

"I'm Larissa," she said, curtsying.

"So, where are we headed?" he asked.

"I'm staying with a friend. The inns here aren't that good," she explained. "I can help you find one of the better ones, though."

"Oh, that's nice of you. I don't know if I'm planning on staying at an inn, or with the caravan. I also don't know how long we're staying."

"Well, I'm going to go get some food. Tira always has soup on. If you haven't eaten, I could probably offer you some," she suggested.

"That's kind of you. Do you often offer food to strangers new to town?"

"Only the cute ones. Come on," she said, hiking up the strap to her bag and setting off. He was not sure what to make of her intentions, and wondered what they actually were. He was starting to feel a little suspicious, but he followed her.

"So, where are you from then?" she asked as they walked.

"You mean you can't guess?" he joked with a grin.

"Nope," she grinned back, shaking her head. "I can tell you haven't been traveling for long yet, but I can't tell which direction you've come in from."

"Calster," he answered.

"Ahhh, the capital. Have you ever seen the King then?"

"He makes public appearances sometimes," Matner replied noncommitally. He found himself not wanting to mention the one dinner party his father had thrown that the King had actually attended. He had been introduced, in as much as his father had gestured in the general direction and rattled off the names of Matner and his siblings before moving on. Matner had watched as the King looked them over, similarly to how a person looks over a selection of vegetables before deciding they really wanted fruit instead.

"Whenever he's in town and there's a holiday, he usually leads a parade through the city streets," he said instead.

"Hmm," was all she said.

"Have you been to Calster?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation to her instead of himself.

"Sure," she replied, bobbing her head. "We went through there plenty of times. A nice enough place, but a bit too big for my tastes really. They really ought to admit that it's two cities. The Calster on the east side of the river and the Calster on the west. Although that's definitely the biggest bridge I've ever seen. And the parks on either end of it are nice."

"So," he asked, "have you been to lots of places?"

"Oh, sure," she asked. "All over the place. Where're you going? I might be able to tell you a little bit about what to expect."

"Um, I don't know. Actually I hadn't thought to ask. At the time, it didn't really matter."

"I see," she said, turning a corner down a side street. "In a hurry to leave, eh?"

"Well, it wasn't like that," he said, following her. The side street was narrower, and the buildings were mostly one floor tall, so there were fewer clothes lines running across the street. There were a few, and she ducked under one.

"It's not like I left running away from trouble, or anything like that. I just wasn't happy there, and wanted to leave."

"Family trouble?" she asked, stopping at the door to a small house painted a faded orange color. The door was white, with a green flower painted on it. Light glowed through curtains over a small open window next to the door.

"Sort of," he answered as she opened the door. It had no lock. Inside was a brightly lit kitchen. He followed her inside.

He was greeted with the aroma of freshly baked bread, and another woman looked up from cutting some carrots on a thick wooden table in the middle of the room.

"Hello Larissa," she said smiling. "Who've you got there with you today?"

"Tira, this is Matner," Larissa replied. "If it's alright, I've invited him for some soup."

"Sure, sure! Come on in!" Tira replied, gesturing with a carrot. "Though you can leave the sword by the door if you don't mind, please."

"Of course," Matner said, hastily taking off his sword belt. "Thank you."

"Larissa, be a dear and bring me some of the onions, would you?" Tira asked.

"Right!" she replied, cheerfully, heading to a cupboard and pulling a couple of onions out of a wooden bin. She brought them over to the table and sat down next to Tira, picking up a knife and beginning to help chop. Matner took one of the remaining seats, across from Larissa.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"Well, of course," Tira replied. "Larissa, get some of the potatoes and a knife for Matner here."

"I don't get around as well these days," Tira explained as Larissa got up to fetch the items. "So Larissa is kind enough to help me out. During the day I mend clothes for folks for a bit of money, and she runs to fetch and deliver the garmets you see. Then she helps me around the house a bit as well. Except for when she's off stretching those legs and lungs of hers." Tira chuckled.

"I can't help it that I like to sing and dance," Larissa said, coming back with a small pile of potatoes and a knife.

"I'm just jealous of your agility is all," Tira grinned. "It's been some time since I've done any dancing of my own."

"But she can sing wonderfully," Larissa told Matner. "Perhaps we can coax her to sing after we've eaten."

"We'll see," Tira said. "Can you peel those potatoes then Matner? Then cut them up into some chunks for the pot."

"Um... sure. I think," Matner said, taking the knife and one of the potatoes. "How long will they need to cook," he asked, trying to take their attention off the fact that he had never peeled a potato before. He understood the general idea, and had seen it done, but never tried to himself. He moved the knife carefully, turning the potato in his hand as he cut the skin away. Fortunately it didn't take him long to get a pattern going.

"Oh these are for tomorrow's soup," Larissa told him. "It takes at least six hours of simmering before one of Tira's soups is ready for eating. Once we have these in the pot for tomorrow, we'll eat the rest of what was cooked for today. It's extra good in the evening, as the pot's been simmering that much longer." She gestured with the knife in her hand, over towards the fire, where Matner saw two large pots hanging from large iron hooks at either side of the fireplace. One of them was steaming slightly, while the other seemed to be bubbling merrily, slightly rattling on the hook as it did.

"Well, I'll be right back," Larissa said as she finished the last onion she was chopping. She set the knife down brushed her hands against each other before she left the room.

"So," Matner asked, "are you in the habit of inviting strangers to join you for dinner?"

"Oh, Larissa's always been that way. She's just friendly that way. You're probably new in town, right?"

"What, if I wasn't I'd already know about her or something?"

"Oh, dear, no," she said, chuckling. "But usually the ones she brings in are younger lads new to town."

"Ah," he replied, uncertain how else to respond.

Larissa came back a moment later with a bucket of water that she set on the floor.

"So, you weren't talking about me behind my back, were you?" Larissa said with a teasing smile.

"Oh, no, dear, not at all," Tira replied with a perfectly straight face. "I was just asking young Matner here about his intentions for you."

"Tira!" Larissa said before Matner had time to do more than look taken aback. Tira grinned, and Matner had to wonder who was the butt of the joke between the two ladies. He could not be sure if it was him or not, but he suspected it was Larissa. He tried to chop the potatoes nonchalantly as if he understood what was going on.

Their conversation shifted for a short while, as the two discussed some of Tira's mending that Larissa needed to pick up or deliver the next day. Matner listened politely, as he worked on the potatoes. It almost seemed as if they had forgotten he was there, as Larissa bustled about the kitchen, chatting away with Tira. He was just starting to feel awkward, and was running out of potatoes to peel and cut, when Larissa suddenly turned to him again.

"So, you never told me, which caravan are you with?" she asked, coming over and collecting the chopped potatoes into a bowl.

"Old Fredrickson's," he replied, caught off guard. "Why?"

"Just wondering if it was someone I knew or not," she replied. "It is, as a matter of fact."

"Don't mind her, dear. She seems to know everyone," Tira laughed.

"I do know Old Fredrickson, actually," Larissa said, almost defensively. "My father knows him much better though."

"Really?" Matner asked, surprised.

"Oh sure," Larissa nodded, taking the bowl and dumping the potatoes into one of the pots on the fire. "He's been traveling these parts for a long while. Dwarves live longer than we do you know. Not as long as elves, of course, but quite a bit longer than us."

"So how old is he?" he asked.

"Well, nobody knows for sure," Larissa answered, "but he's been Old Frederickson since at least back when my father was a boy."

"I see," he said, nodding. He already had the suspicion that the dwarf encouraged an air of mystery about his age. There weren't that many dwarves in New Callest, as far as Matner knew. He supposed that anything that made the man more interesting or conversation-worthy probably helped his business.

"Well," Tira said, "that's ready enough for now. I'm hungry. I'll take care of dishes after we eat. Larissa, why don't you take young Matner here to the table, and I'll be right in with the soup?"

"Alright," Larissa said. She took the knife from him--he had still been holding it, uncertain what to do with it--and put it on the table. She took him by the hand and led him to the next room.

The table was large for two people. It easily had room for six, and was set up in the main room of the house. There were only four chairs around it, but the other two had been moved over by a small, empty fireplace.

There was a rack holding a padded form that looked like a practice dummy for beginner sword students. After a moment he recognized it from the times he had spent at tailors' shops being fitted for suits. There were also several shelves stacked with books.

There was an oil lamp already lit on the table, and she let go of his hand to use it to light several candles. The windows in the room had already been shuttered. The room was plastered white, and the candles and lamp made the table area feel bright and cheerful.

"Sometimes in the winter we eat in the kitchen, where it's warmer," she told him. "But mostly we like to be in here."

She went to a wooden chest of drawers and shelves and pulled three spoons out from a drawer, along with napkins, which she laid out in front of three of the chairs.

"Please, sit down," she said, gesturing to one of them. "Tira will be just a minute."

Matner took the seat she had indicated, while Larissa sat down next to him, giving him a bright smile as she did. Then Tira walked into the room slowly, carrying a wooden tray with three steaming bowls on it. Matner noticed that her hand shook slightly as she moved each bowl from the tray to the table. He said nothing, noting that Tira seemed to be noticing it too, and looked a bit frustrated by it.

"I see you've laid out the spoons and such. Thank you Larissa." Tira set the tray aside and took the remaining seat.

"It was no trouble," Larissa smiled.

"Oh dear! I've forgotten! I baked bread today. Could you get the loaf, please?" Tira asked.

"I'll be right back," Larissa replied, nodding and standing again.

She was gone only a moment, before bringing back a plate with a round loaf of bread atop it, and a knife to cut it with. There were also smaller plates that she set down next to the larger one, in front of Tira. Tira cut generous slices off and doled them out, one to each plate, before handing plates out.

"Would you care to say a prayer before we eat, Matner?" Tira asked.

He had to hesitate a moment, caught off guard. There were a few common meal prayers for each god, and just then he could not remember any of them. He had a book of prayers and scripture. He had even thought to bring it with him when he had left home. It was back with the caravan, of course.

He did finally remember one of Salith's prayers. There had been mealtime prayers at the academy, of course, but only sometimes did the students say them.

He recited it, only stumbling once or twice. He was starting to blush at the end, embarrassed, and he took a deep breath to relax himself to try to stop it. The two ladies simply nodded thoughtfully without comment.

He followed their examples when they started eating, letting them start out of politeness. He wondered what kind of manners they were expecting out of him. His mother would never have served soup as a main dish to guests, let alone serve it with regular spoons.

He said nothing about any of that, of course, and broke his slice of bread into smaller chunks. Both the bread and soup were mild but tasty, with subtle herbs and spices. They blended together well, and he complimented the Tira on both.

Larissa shared with Tira some of the local gossip she had heard during the day, which of course meant nothing to him. "So," Larissa asked him at one point, "anything interesting going on in Calster lately?"

"Interesting?" he said, after he'd finished swallowing a mouthful. "I suppose that depends on what you'd find interesting."

"Oh, any news is fine," Tira told him with a laugh.

"Yes, we just like to hear about other places," Larissa agreed.

"Um... okay then," he said, searching his memory for anything that stood out from the happenings in Calster. Most things seemed pretty ordinary to him, and he had been busy with studies so he hadn't really paid much attention to the social gossip that his parents found so important.

"There were some brigands on the river just south of the city not long ago," he finally told them. "They were preying on the smaller shipping vessels. The King sent a few of the smaller, faster ships down there though and they took care of it."

Both ladies nodded at him, as if fascinated. After a moment had passed, however, he realized that they were waiting for him to tell them more.

"Let's see, what else? I was rather busy before I left," he said, stalling for some time while he tried to think of something else.

"What were you doing?" Larissa asked.

"Finishing my training," Matner replied, suddenly feeling both their gazes weighing heavily on him. "I... um... had some weapons training. Then I signed on with Old Fredrickson."

"So, what, you trained with one of the mercenaries there?" Larissa asked.

"Sort of," he replied, wondering if any of the teachers had been mercenaries at one point. He supposed it was possible.

"But I needed to wander and see the world," he added quicky. "I suppose you can relate to that."

"Yes, I can," Larissa admitted, "although there's also something nice to be said for settling down and putting down roots. People know me here."

"Alright, fair enough. Plenty of people seem to know Old Fredrickson, though."

"Oh, sure," she said. "Lots of people know him. But how many really know him? How many would consider him a friend, and how many would he consider friends? That's part of the difference, for me anyway."

"You left friends behind you, didn't you?" Tira asked.

"Yes, I did," he said, nodding, "and I miss them. But I'm ready for some adventure. I want...to figure out what I want."

"Oh, that reminds me," Tira said, changing the subject to someone Larissa knew who had apparently left a message about wanting Larissa to help pick out a new dress. Larissa explained that every year the girl had a new dress made, and every year Larissa had to help pick colors and fabrics. Talk turned to local fashion and before he knew it he was finished with his dinner and being offered some kind of pastry. It was dry, but tasty, and he complimented them on the tastiness without saying anything about the dryness.

"Matner hasn't decided if he's staying at an inn or camping in the marketplace while he's here," Larissa told Tira suddenly. "Have you made up your mind yet?"

"I really hadn't given it much thought yet," Matner admitted. "I'll probably stay with the caravan for now." He realized he had no idea if he was supposed to check in with Frank now and again, or anything like that.

"Well, I can recommend a couple of inns if you change your mind," Larissa told him.

"I think I'll save my money for inns for when the weather gets colder," Matner said with a smile. "But thanks anyway."

He was about to excuse himself to head back to the caravan when a knock at the door in the other room prevented it. Instead, Larissa excused herself and went into the kitchen, and he could hear her speaking in hushed tones to what sounded like a couple of people. Tira was alternating between craning her head to see what was going on and giving Matner a reassuring smile.

"Probably just someone who needs something mended in a hurry," she commented. However, Matner could tell she was hiding something by the expression of worry on her face. Larissa came back a moment later, pulling a dark gray shawl over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, but I need to run out for just a minute. I shouldn't be long," she told them. "Tira, Breena just needs to borrow some bandages and medicines, if that's alright? Lawrence has fallen and cut his leg."

"Of course," Tira nodded. "You know where they are."

"I'll be back soon," Larissa said, turning immediately and heading back into the kitchen before Matner could offer to help. He'd received some basic training in bandaging and stitching wounds at the academy. He mentioned as much to Tira, although he was still sure there was something they were leaving out, based on the woman's expression.

"Oh, Larissa is quite good at such things," Tira waved a hand as if it was nothing. "She'll have it all taken care of in short order."

There was an awkward silence for a bit, while the two of them looked at one another, waiting for the other to say something.

After a moment he found himself wondering what he was even doing sitting there. How much of the city had he seen? Yes, he thought, dinner had been nice, and it was nice having maybe made a friend--for as long as he'd be in town, at least.

But how much of the city had he really seen? Not much, he figured. He did not know how long he would be in town anyway, and therefor how much other chance he would get to explore.

"Well, I should be getting on, I think," he said eventually. "Thank you for dinner. It was great."

"Oh, think nothing of it, dear," Tira said. "Larissa's often enough bringing someone home. I'm used to it. I'll make her clean up the kitchen when she comes back, although often enough she does of her own accord anyway."

He stood up, gathering the bowls on the tray before carrying it all into the kitchen.

"Well, thank you," she said.

"You're quite welcome," he replied. "Thank you again for your hospitality." He set the tray on the table they had been cutting on, and rebuckled his sword around his waist. He stepped outside and, although he could not understand why, he felt somehow more comfortable having left.

It had grown dark outside. There were lamps lit along the main streets, but fewer than back home. He could see more stars above him in the sky, and the smaller streets were dark and uninviting. He moved to a main road quickly. His uncertain feelings of apprehension faded as he moved to more lit areas. There were fewer people walking the streets now, although some nodded at him in passing.

He wandered for a while, just noticing the city around him and the people in it. The smell of burning wood from the many hearths was heavy on the air, nearly overpowering the various food aromas that wafted from the houses he passed. The shops were shuttered closed, but the taverns were bright and lively through the windows. Here and there the sounds of music mingled together, and often the loud, deep voices of slightly drunken men accompanied it. Then he would move through another area of purely residential buildings, and it would become almost eerily quiet. He found himself tending to migrate back towards the music, although he was reassured by the occasional city guard he saw, patrolling the streets. They seemed relaxed, as if they weren't expecting trouble, which made him relax a little as well. Eventually, he found himself wandering into one of the taverns, drawn by the sounds of a boisterous toast and a cheerful tune starting up.

No one seemed to pay him much notice as he walked through the front entrance, save the bartender. The bartender was a burly man, slightly graying at the temples, wearing a dingy white shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves, and a pair of worn-looking brown pants. He had a towel hanging in half at his belt, and wiped his hands on it as he made his way down the bar to where Matner took a seat on one of the stools.

"What can I get ya?" he asked right away.

"A mug of ale," Matner replied. "How much?"

"Depends on the ale," the bartender said. "Ya want something ta drown yer sorrows in or something that'll raise yer spirits?"

"Raise my spirits," Matner answered decisively. "Definitely that one."

"That'll cost ya eightpence."

"Right."

Matner pulled the coins out of his pocket, with an extra penny for the gratuity. The bartender took the coins with a nod when he slid the still-frothing mug onto the counter, a small bit of ale sloshing over the side.

Matner sipped at the ale, taking his time, as he looked about the room. It was only about half-full of people, but one group of them seemed to be together and made enough noise to fill the place. They were all men, dressed in work clothes and sitting by the small stage where a trio of musicians sat entertaining. The men seemed to be enjoying themselves and each other's company as they sang along to the music, stopping to slap their neighbors on the back and toast occasionally. They seemed to have already drank a considerable amount of ale already, and toasted pretty much anything that they could think of.

"To the fire!" one called out. "And the wood that makes it burn!"

"To the fire!" the others chorused, raising their glasses.

"That was a good one, Lar," one of them said, almost looking teary-eyed over it. The others just nodded and took hearty swigs from their mugs.

For a while he just sat sipping his ale quietly. I'm in another city, drinking ale in a tavern full of strangers, he thought to himself, enjoying the idea of it. He kicked his feet up on an extra chair, after checking them for mud and deciding they were clean enough.

After a while he noticed two men watching him. He tried not to look at them directly, and tried not to act any different. He did feel uncomfortable being watched. He wondered what they were thinking about him. Surely they were judging him, but why? What opinions of him were they forming?

He tried to sit normally without fidgeting. He watched some dancing that was going on, still keeping tabs on the two men. So far they had not left their seats. He was not sure what he should do if they stood up and approached him. They just kept watching him, and they seemed to be making no effort to conceal that. He was not about to get up and join the dancing just then.

He looked at his ale. He had drank about half of it. While he did not want to waste it, he did not want to be at all drunk if those men were intending trouble. He decided maybe it was time to head back to the caravan.

He stood up casually and stretched a little, as if he had been stiff from sitting too long. He thought it looked appropriate. He left another pence on the table and turned to head toward the door. It was an effort not to turn and look back to see what they were doing. The music and laughter covered up any sounds they might be making getting out of their own chairs.

Outside it was mostly dark out. Lamps were still lit here and there, and light spilled out through the occasional upper floor window. Lower windows all seemed shuttered. He moved down the street a little quickly, and as soon as he could he ducked down a side street that headed in the direction he needed to go. He was thankful for a good sense of direction he had honed as a child. Rafer had always been the one getting lost, never him.

He made it several more blocks before he began to be certain there were people following him. Out of the corner of one eye he began to notice the same figure over and over again whenever he turned a corner. He veered towards a larger road, where there were more lamps and the occasional guard. The figure seemed to disappear, and Matner smiled to himself that his plan had worked. He tried to steer clear of the darker streets and alleyways as he continued his way back towards the caravan.

He did still have some smaller streets to take if he wanted to get there more directly, so he decided it was worth the risk now that he'd shaken whomever had been following. As he moved down one of them, however, he heard a sound that made him pause for a moment to listen.

"Please, let me go!" a woman's voice was saying. There were men's voices laughing as she did.

He didn't think twice before turning to head towards the voice. He entered the alleyway with his hand on the hilt of his sword. A large, burly man was holding a woman by the arm, while she struggled to get away. The man looked up when Matner came around the corner.

"She said to let her go," he said loudly.

To his surprise, the man let go of the woman. Instead of running, as he would have expected, she just stepped back, as if out of the way. Then Matner heard the footsteps behind him. He whirled around to find the two men from the bar standing there, one of them with a crossbow in his hands.

"The young'uns are always the most gullible," the one with the crossbow said. The others laughed, as the crossbow made a snapping noise and the bolt flew forward, imbedding itself halfway into Matner's right shoulder. The armor had only partly stopped it, and Matner was surprised by how painful the sharp little bolt was as he tried to pull his sword free of the scabbard.

He did get his sword out, but it hurt to do so. He would not be able to wield it as effectively as he might need. He switched to a two-handed grip that helped him raise the sword to ready. The girl stepped back more, while the two other men drew knives. The one with the crossbow started reloading.

The crossbow, he told himself, was the priority. His armor would help protect him some from the knives. Even wounded, he thought he should be able to keep the knives at bay at least. The crossbow, on the other hand, would prove to be a problem. The man had it recocked, and was grabbing a bolt to load into it.

"Ye've obviously got money, boy," one of the knife men said. "Lessee how much of it ye brought with ye tonight."

"Not enough to be worth your trouble, I think," Matner said back, steeling himself for the pain he was about to feel. He lunged forward, bringing the sword up in a double-fisted grip. The man almost dropped the bolt trying to rush it into the crossbow before Matner reached him.

Matner got there first and brought the sword down hard, letting its weight do much of the work for him. It smashed through the crossbow, which flung itself to pieces under its own tension with a sprang-like sound. One of those pieces glanced off Matner's armor. Another piece embedded itself in the man's cheek, and he dropped the remaining portion of the crossbow to clutch his face and yell.

He pulled back quickly, trying to keep the alley wall to his back so that neither of the other two could get behind him. He realized that there was only the one exit out of the alley, back the way he'd come. The other end was walled off by a high wooden fence that didn't appear to have a door in it, from his vantage point. The girl had pulled a knife out too, but she kept well behind the man nearest her, backed up against the fence.

"You'll pay fer that," the other man said, getting between Matner and the wounded man.

The two men came at him from either side. Matner's shoulder felt like it was on fire, hurting even more than he would have expected based on wounds he'd taken during training. He began to worry that the bolt had been laced with something. He knew he needed to act fast.

The one nearest the girl swung first. He brought the sword up again and deflected the knife hard, sending it careening out of the man's hands before turning and attacking hard at the other man.

The second man was quick, however, and it was all Matner could do to keep his balance when he found himself swinging at empty air. He spun around, realizing that he was beginning to feel a little light-headed.

There was something on that bolt, he thought worriedly. I've got to end this quick. But the second man was still between him and the exit, and the other one had pulled another knife from somewhere under his clothes.

None of them closed quite within reach of him. They all kept their distance a little, waiting for whatever was on the crossbow bolt to do whatever it was going to do to him. He wondered for a moment whether it was a poison to kill him, or just to knock him out.

He needed to escape. With the crossbow broken they could not stop him from running. He swung at the quick one, who hopped back out of the way. That left Matner an opening to get away, and he ran. He tried to remember where he had seen guards patrolling. If he could find one quickly enough, maybe he would be safe. He heard laughing from behind him.

He staggered as he ran. He was feeling lost. Corners did not look familiar to him. Buildings were strange looking. He thought about Wilson's Tavern. He had stopped in there often enough. If he could get to it there would be people there that could help him. This time of night Rafer might be there. He could count on Rafer.

He could not find any of the main boulevards. Familiar houses and shops were missing. He did find a merchant district, so he ran towards it. Merchants had guards, he hold himself. He might at least find someone who could help him.

He did have one moment of clarity as he realized he was running into a market square with a sword in his hands. He put it away, irritated that he had let himself drink so much. He had trouble getting it sheathed. He looked around the different wagons and tents, wondering where all the guards were. He thought he heard someone call his name somewhere in the distance as he fell to the street. His fuzzy world went black.