you looking to purchase more?”
“Not at this time,” he replied. “What I’m interested in finding out is who makes it?”
“That’s easy enough,” said the man. “The Orack Tribe to the south is the sole maker of Guerloch.”
Feigning ignorance, Bart asked, “Orack Tribe?”
Filgrit nodded. “It’s one of the largest Tribes,” he explained. “They have a trading house here in Kendruck. They’d be the ones to contact if you are interested in regular shipments of Guerloch.”
“Where could we find them?” asked Riyan.
“Their trading house is located not too far from the southern gate,” Filgrit said. “Just go down to the gate area and ask directions to Kell Plaza. There you’ll find the Orack trading house.”
“Thank you,” Riyan told the wine merchant. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“Not a problem young man,” Filgrit told him. “If you are ever in need of wine, come back and see me.”
“We’ll do that,” Riyan assured him.
Turning about, he and the others were soon back on the street. The day was waning, but there was still an hour or so left before nightfall. They decided to make their way to the southern gate, and from there locate Kell Plaza. After asking directions to the gate from a passerby, they were soon on their way.
“What’s the plan once we get there?” asked Seth.
“If we can, try to find out exactly where to locate the family whose crest is on the wine bottle,” Bart explained. “After that, we head south.”
Ten minutes of walking along the streets of Kendruck found them nearing its southern gate. Bart inquired of another passerby and they were soon on the way to Kell Plaza.
Kell Plaza as it turned out was one of the larger plazas located within Kendruck. It boasted three separate fountains, four statues and an expanse of grass with a gazebo-like structure situated in the middle.
“I bet in the summer this place is pretty lively,” observed Soth. Now though, it was fairly empty and the fountains were dry.
Bart brought them to a halt as they entered the plaza. Scanning the buildings bordering the plaza, he sought one that could be the trading house of the Orack Tribe. The buildings ranged from single story structures to ones rising four and five stories high. Centered along the north side of the plaza was a building that dwarfed all the others.
This one stood five stories high, and took up a good quarter of the real estate abutting the plaza on that side. From the looks of it the building held an official capacity, and was unlikely to be the trading house for the Orack Tribe.
Riyan spied an old beggar missing half his right leg sitting in front of a nearby bakery. “I’ll ask him,” he told the others as he headed toward the beggar.
The beggar quickly took notice of Riyan moving toward him. When Riyan drew close, the old man held out his hand for a coin. “Help an old warrior?” he asked.
“Warrior?” Riyan asked.
The old man nodded. “Back when I was younger. But they don’t have much use for someone with half a leg.” He looked up at Riyan expectantly, his hand still held out for a coin.
Riyan reached into his pouch and drew out a silver. “Are you a member of the Warriors Guild?” he asked as he handed the old man the coin.
“No,” the beggar replied. “I was never so fortunate.” Taking the coin, he quickly stashed it within the rumpled and dirty rags he called clothes. When Riyan didn’t immediately go away he asked, “Is there something I can do for you?”
Nodding, Riyan replied, “Could you tell me which building is the trading house for the Orack Tribe?”
The geniality of the old man quickly disappeared. “Why do you want to know?” he asked.
Gesturing to where the others waited, Riyan said, “We wished to inquire about a certain wine they may have available for trade.”
The old man gazed at Riyan in silence for awhile. He finally pointed to a three story building not far from where they had entered the plaza. “There,” he said. “Don’t expect too warm a welcome from those you’ll meet there.”
Riyan gazed at the building and asked, “Why do you say that?”
“Those from the Tribes don’t care much for us northerners,” he explained.
“So I’ve heard,” Riyan said. “Still, it can’t hurt to inquire.”
“I suppose not,” the old man stated. “Just watch yourself while you’re in there.”
Riyan turned back to the old man and said, “I will. Thank you for your help.”
The old man just nodded.
Riyan returned to the others. He indicated the building the old man had pointed out. “He said it was that one.”
Three stories tall, it wasn’t much different than any of the others bordering the plaza. It looked as much like a townhouse as a trading office. Four steps led up to a wooden door that stood closed. Five windows faced outward from the second and third floors while the ground floor held but two. All were dark save one on the ground floor.
“It might be wise to wait until morning,” suggested Kevik. “Doesn’t look like they’re open for business.”
“Perhaps not,” agreed Bart. “At least we know where it is for when we return in the morning.”
Just then the door to the Orack trading house opened and two men appeared. Slightly darker skinned than the average citizen of Byrdlon, they stood six feet tall and each had a sword hanging at their hip.
“Tribesmen,” Chyfe said.
“How can you tell?” asked Riyan. To him, they looked like run of the mill people one would find on any street in Byrdlon.
“For one thing, they’re darker than we are,” he said. Then he glanced to Seth and Soth. Both were just as dark as the Tribesmen. “Most of us anyway.” Turning back to Riyan, he said, “Also, look at their cloaks. Every Tribesman wears color designations that tell the world to which Tribe he belongs. They’re very particular about such things.”
Riyan gazed at the two Tribesmen who were walking across the plaza. A color pattern of red, green, red was worked into the design. If Chyfe hadn’t pointed it out, he may not have even noticed. “Think that’s the color of the Orack Tribe?”
“Can’t know for sure,” he explained, “unless we ask them. And that wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Like I said, they’re a bit particular about such things and get annoyed if they think they or their Tribe have been slighted.”
Nodding, Riyan turned his attention back to the building from which the two men had emerged. After a minute of searching, he failed to find a color pattern on any of the walls or door. “Back to the inn then?” he asked.
Bart nodded and they began heading back to the inn.
Chad was deep in thought as they passed back through the street. Finally, he asked the twins, “Are you two Tribesmen?”
Seth grinned. “When I saw them I thought the same thing,” he replied.
“Never heard any of our family mention a connection to the Tribes,” Soth explained.
“But you two do bear a striking resemblance,” Kevik said. “How far back do you know your family history?”
“I know our father’s grandfather lived to the east,” replied Soth. “His side is where we get our dark skin. Our mother is somewhat paler.”
“Maybe we’re long lost princes or something,” suggest Seth. Then both he and Soth began laughing. Turning to the others he announced, “Maybe you better treat us with more respect!”
“I don’t think so,” Chyfe said with a grin.
Laughing together, the companions made their way back to the inn.
Chapter Eight
