“You didn’t have to scare him,” rebukes James.
“I know,” replies Jiron as he turns to glance at James. When no further comment is forthcoming, they make their way to the intersection and turn into the lane the boy had indicated. At the edge of town when the street comes to an end, they find a large complex of smelters with smokestacks belching black smoke.
A man is loitering around one of the buildings and James rides over to him. “Where might I find the owners of Renlon’s Iron?” he asks.
Indicating a building near the center of the complex, he says, “Most of the time you can find them in there.”
James gives him a nod and replies, “Thanks.” Leaving the man behind, they work their way through the complex until they come to the indicated building where James dismounts. “You stay here with the horses and I’ll see if they’re inside,” he tells Jiron.
Nodding, Jiron remains on his horse as James enters through the front door.
Inside he finds an office with several tables and many shelves lined with books. Behind one is the older gentleman from before. He looks up from where he was making notations on a piece of paper and sees him walk in. “Can I help you?” he asks. Then suddenly his face lights up as he recognizes him. Coming to his feet, he moves around the desk and asks, “James right?” Holding out his hand, he gives James a vigorous shake.
“That’s right,” he replies. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to remember me.”
“After what you did it would be hard to forget you. Here, take a seat,” he says as he gestures to one next to the desk. As James takes a seat he props himself on the edge of his desk. “So what brings you around these parts?”
“Actually I was hoping you could help me with something,” he says.
“If I can I will,” he assures him. “What do you need?”
James explains to him in brief detail the robbery and subsequent chase leaving out the parts concerning the Empire and his magic. Once he’s done, he finishes by saying, “So you see, I believe they may have sold our horses somewhere here in Illion along with our other belongings. You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who might deal in stolen goods do you?”
Sitting back on the desk, he contemplates for a moment. Then the rear door opens and his son comes in. Stopping just inside the door when he sees his father talking with James, he breaks into a smile and comes forward. “So, you decided to take advantage of our hospitality after all?” he asks.
“In a way,” James replies.
Glancing to his son, his father fills him in on James’ plight. Father and son exchange glances for a moment and then the son says, “You might try Orlander.”
“Orlander?” he asks. “Who is that and where can I find him?”
Nodding, the father turns to James and says, “He’s a bad one, into all the less than honest dealings which go on around here. He runs a tavern on the other side of town. You can’t miss it, it looks shoddy and in ill repair.”
“If your stuff is with him, you best just leave it be,” the son warns. “Those who cross him tend to end up dead.”
“We’ll see,” says James. “I appreciate your help in this. Thank you.”
“Isn’t there anything else we can do to help?” the father asks as James makes to leave. “We owe you a lot.”
Pausing, James glances back to them and says, “Well…”
He finds Jiron still on his horse when he exits the office. The father and son come out with him to bid him goodbye. Walking up to his friend, he hands him a bundle wrapped in cloth.
“What’s this?” Jiron asks as he takes the bundle. When James doesn’t say anything he unwraps it and finds a belt with two exceptionally fashioned knives. “Oh my!” he says as he pulls one from out of its sheath. Holding it up, he tests it for balance and sights down the blade as he checks for straightness. The craftsmanship is exceptional and the balance is the best he’s ever felt.
“Where did you get these?” he asks, replacing the knife in its sheath.
“A present from some friends of his,” the father replies. “For services rendered.”
“Thank you,” he says. Removing his old belt which had held his now lost knives, he discards it and secures the new one around his waist. Once it’s secured tightly, he quickly draws both knives and in a blur of speed, they dance around him briefly before being returned to their sheathes. “Excellent,” he says glancing to the two men. “Absolutely excellent.”
“They were made by a master weaponsmith some time ago,” the son explains. “They were to be a gift but the person died before we were able to give it to him.”
“You may need them where you’re going,” the father states.
“What?” he asks.
“I’ll explain as we ride,” James says as he mounts. Turning to the father and son he says, “Thank you for all the help. It’s much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome,” the father says.
“Stop by again if you’re able,” the son says.
“Will do,” replies James as he and Jiron turn their horses and begin making their way from the Renlon’s complex. After leaving it behind, he glances over to Jiron and pats a bulge in his shirt. “They also gave us some traveling money,” he says.
“Oh?” asks Jiron hopefully.
“Don’t be getting too excited, it’s only about a gold’s worth,” he explains.
“That should at least last a few days on the road,” he says.
Nodding, James returns his attention to the crowded street as they maneuver their way through the people. Making their way across town to where this Orlander’s tavern lies, they eventually see a building exactly as the Renlon’s had described, rundown and looking about to fall apart at the seams.
Outside are several individuals whom James wouldn’t want to meet up with on the wrong side of a knife in some dark alley. They all look like thugs who would just as soon kill you as look at you. When they near, he signals Jiron to continue down the street. After putting some distance between them and the tavern Jiron asks, “Why didn’t we stop?”
“I didn’t think our horses would still be there when we came out,” he explains.
“Good thinking.”
Finding a reputable business, a chandler’s shop by the look of it, they come to a stop and secure their horses among two others already tied there. “We going back?” asks Jiron.
“You bet,” replies James. “If he has our stuff, I mean to recover it.”
They begin walking back and Jiron says, “It could get nasty.”
Sighing, James asks, “You got a better idea?”
Shaking his head, he replies, “No.”
“Hopefully he’ll listen to reason,” James says wistfully.
“Doubt it,” Jiron replies confidently.
One way or another, he has to retrieve that medallion, not to mention the other one he found in the underground temple. Jiron’s necklace designating him a Shynti was also taken. If nothing else, those three things must be recovered.
Approaching the thugs outside the dilapidated tavern, they’re stopped by one of them before reaching the door. “What do you guys want here?” the thug asks. Standing there blocking their way with a sword on one hip and red hair waving in the slight breeze, James thinks he must really think he’s something.
“Want to talk with Orlander,” he says coming to a stop.
At that the others edge their way closer to the pair. “What for?” the red haired thug asks.
“That’s between me and him,” James says with finality. He stares down the man with courage he didn’t realize he had. Before coming to this world he would’ve been a quivering mass of jelly if someone had confronted him like this. Amazed at the backbone he’s acquired he takes a step forward.
The thug stops him by placing his hand on his chest and says, “You ain’t getting in.”
Jiron starts to move to take out this man when James holds up his hand to forestall any violence. Looking into the thug’s eyes he says, “Either remove your hand or lose it.”
In the face of such calm certainty the thug hesitates a moment and then removes his hand. “Thank you,” he
