The Black Horseman

though young, had a hard look to them, and her first thought was that they were Deutzani spies, maybe soldiers, but more likely spies. She gave them a quick once over, but spotted no weapons. ‘Definitely spies and not soldiers,’ she thought, though they could have weapons hidden in the large canvas bags they kept close by. Hopefully they were just passing through; hopefully they were going to Manse. She nodded and moved away to get them some ale, casting a warning glance at the three men nearby as she went.

              Gwaynn noticed her look and the changed demeanor of the three men, who now stared at them with undisguised suspicion. No one said anything however, as he and Krys began to eat as only ravenous young men can eat. They were just finishing up their second pot of stew when one of the locals walked over to them. He was a large man, much broader in the shoulders than Gwaynn, or Krys for that matter, who was still the larger of the two. The man sat down and placed his cup of ale on the table without waiting for an invitation.

              “Where you from?” He asked, taking a gulp.

              Gwaynn just looked at the man, but he could feel Krys bristling beside him.

              “Not much business of yours,” Krys answered.

              The man didn’t seem to be bothered by Krys’ terse answer. Gwaynn just continued to finish up the last of the stew in his bowl.

              “Just curious,” the man retorted, a false smile planted on his face. “We like to find out as much as we can about the strangers who travel through these parts. It pays to get to know people.” He added still smiling, if you could call it that, his eyes drilling into Krys’.

              Gwaynn reached out and put a hand on Krys’ wrist. The man slowly looked down at the movement and shifted his focus to Gwaynn.

              “My name is Gwaynn. This is Krys,” he said with a small smile, but it was at least genuine.

              The man said nothing, just continued to stare.

              “And yours?” Gwaynn asked.

              The man frowned, thinking. If these two were Deutzani soldiers it would not be good to give them his name, but hell they probably already had it anyway.

              “Jake,” he finally answered, though he left his sir name out, just as the strangers had.

              “Well Jake,” Gwaynn said, loud enough for everyone in the tavern to hear. “I’m from Solarii, and Krys here was just telling me recently that he was from Lynndon, something about herding sheep wasn’t it?” He asked in a teasing voice.

              Krys grunted, and shook his head. “Nothing wrong with sheep,” he insisted.

              Jake studied the two a moment, confused that neither showed even the slightest bit of discomfort by his aggressive behavior. They could be Deutzani, which would explain some of the confidence. They certainly did not have the look of sheepherders.

              “Lynndon?” Jake asked. He knew something of Lynndon. His uncle lived in Lynndon. “How long you live in Lynndon?” he asked, shifting his attention back to Krys.

              The man bothered Krys. He was arrogant and rude, but Krys knew Gwaynn wanted to avoid a confrontation. “Til I was about eleven,” he answered.

              “Then you must know the name of the blacksmith there,” Jake challenged and the two local men at the far table tensed and moved to the edge of the seats. Much to Jake’s confusion, however, the two in front of him remained completely relaxed and impassive.

              Krys’ mind was racing. True, he had grown up in Lynndon, but that was a long time ago, and he was just a child. The name of the blacksmith did not come immediately to his mind, though the man’s face instantly did.

              “Large man,” Krys said, the man’s name on the tip of his tongue, “big shoulders,” he added.

              “Humph, what blacksmith doesn’t have big shoulders?”

              “Hang on,” Krys answered holding up a hand. “Haven’t thought about it for a while, but the name is coming to me.” He was relaxing a bit, and beginning to enjoy himself. Gwaynn just sat, waiting patiently, a slight smile still on his face. These were his people. He knew these men were only a slight danger to him and Krys, but he had no desire to tangle with anyone from Massi. He would eventually need as many men as he could get.

              The two at the far table now stood in unison, and Jake was on edge, as if he was just about ready to act, his hand moving to the knife hidden at the small of his back. But again the two young men just sat there, sweet as pie, not a care in the world.

              “Wake!” Krys suddenly said his voice louder because of his excitement. “His name was Wake… something.”

              The two men who were standing sat slowly back down, and Jake was frowning again. “You knew Wake?”

              Krys shrugged. “I was ten…I knew of him.”

              Jake relaxed a little. These two could not be Deutzani, or if they were, they had a very good cover story.

              “Where’d ya go after Lynndon?”

              Krys glanced at Gwaynn, who shrugged his consent. “I went to the Islands,” Krys answered very amused to see Jake’s face go pale.

              Jake’s mind was now racing. These two did not have the look or demeanor of a Scholar or Physician, and since they arrived on horseback Travelers could be ruled out, and that left either Weapons Masters or Executioners. Jake’s mind fixated on Executioners since a group of men trimmed in Sinis red had passed through early the previous week.

              “The Islands,” Jake answered back as his two friends at the next table turned around to face away from him. Anger at them shot through Jake. It was at their prodding that he’d come over here in the first place. Cowards.

              Gwaynn’s smile grew larger. “Noble,” he answered softly.

              Jake sighed. “Noble?” he asked, relieved, but still worried.

              Gwaynn nodded. “Noble.”

              Jake shook his head, then suddenly decided he couldn’t be any closer to death than he had just been, so he leaned in. “You’re not Deutzani?” he asked.

              Both Krys and Gwaynn shook their heads, and Jake let out another sigh.

              “Weapons Masters?” He asked, then in a flash he remembered someone from Lynndon had been accepted into the training. He remembered Wake bragging about it all those years ago. Krys…the boy’s name might have been Krys.

              “Krys,” Rebecca said, coming from around the bar to get closer. “I do remember a Krys getting accepted into the training,” she said.

              “At your service,” Krys answered with a slight bow, now fully amused by the man who had joined them.

              Jake laughed. It was giddy and high pitched. His relief was so great that the men at the next table joined in. “Boy, when you said the Islands, I could not keep from thinking about the band of Executioners. They came through here last week, but didn’t stop.”

              “Luck was with us,” Rebecca added with obvious gratitude.

              “Executioners,” Gwaynn said, his voice raised, and eyes suddenly going cold. All talk stopped once again in the tavern, and Jake swallowed hard. The man in front of him never claimed to be a Weapons Master, but if Krys was taking his orders he must be someone deadly.

              Rebecca nodded and bravely moved closer, then whispered. “They came through last Monday. They were heading toward Manse. Nasty men, killers all.”

              “Anyone named Navarra with them?” Gwaynn asked, his manner still ice.

              Rebecca shrugged, growing a bit wary once more. “They didn’t give names, didn’t even stop to water their horses…I’m sorry young master,” she added, and Gwaynn seeing her fear for the first time, eased back his intensity.

              “I thank you,” he said standing, and picking up his bag. “Looks like we have another reason to go stop at Manse,” he added to Krys who also stood. “We’ll say goodnight. Tell the boy to have our horses ready at sunrise.”

              Rebecca bowed her head in acknowledgement.