When the serving girl arrived and Hanjel had ordered Lomar an ale, Tedi ordered another one for himself and continued to listen.
“Sure, he did, Hanjel,” Lomar said as he drank his ale greedily. “I saw himself not five minutes ago. I’ve been looking for you ever since.”
“Who is this Mikal Obanik?” the third man asked.
“An old friend of Hanjel’s, Chekst,” Lomar chuckled.
“Friend, my foot!” Hanjel spat angrily and Chekst looked confused.
“He is an ex-Targa Ranger,” Lomar supplied. “Supposedly was a personal friend of Colonel Alexander Tork. I never met Tork, but this Obanik is the meanest, toughest son of a mother that ever walked the face of the earth. Hanjel and two of his friends had the displeasure of meeting him about five years ago and you can tell that Hanjel still remembers him, fondly, of course.”
Hanjel smashed his mug down on the table, drawing attention from all over the common room. “I’ll fondly you, Lomar, if you don’t wipe that grin off your face,” Hanjel growled. “The man’s a bandit and a liar and deserves to die. Friend of Tork, indeed. Tork is just a myth, and a dead myth at that, but seeing as they was friends, maybe Obanik ought to go see Tork, whatever hell he is in.”
“Oh, Tork is no myth,” Chekst objected. “I had a friend in the Sordoan Royal Guard that was in the Royal Palace the day that Tork assassinated the Sultan. He saw him again the day the Empress died. No, Tork is no myth, but why does this Obanik bother you so much?”
“Obanik was supposedly passing through town about five years ago,” Lomar began. “Three men started getting on him about him having been a Targa Ranger and how King Byron of Targa was the cause of the Collapse. When Obanik tried to ignore them, they got rowdy. Obanik got up and left the inn and three fools followed him out into the street and drew their swords on him. Most amazing display of swordsmanship I ever saw. Obanik drew his sword and fended off the three men and called for the guard to arrest the fools so he wouldn’t have to kill them. Well, the guard showed up, all right. Three senior guardsmen came and one of them was Hanjel here.”
“I think you’ve said enough for one day,” threatened Hanjel.
Lomar ignored the other guard and continued. “The three guards started taking bets on the outcome instead of intervening. Finally Obanik shook his head and in one twirling motion, cut the three fools in half. Hanjel and his two buddies arrested him for murder and took him before King Alfred who sentenced him to death. Some of the citizens objected and the King ordered an investigation. When King Alfred discovered what had really happened, he offered Obanik a choice, become the General of the Melbin Army or leave the city and never return. Either way, Obanik would be required to teach the three guards, who had not broken up the fight, a lesson. Obanik chose to leave the city and said that his sword was already too bloody to use against the guards.”
“Well, Hanjel should at least be happy about that,” Chekst said.
Hanjel threw his ale mug at the wall and stormed out of the inn. Lomar shook his head and continued the story. “The King was not pleased with either of Obanik’s responses. He decided to throw Obanik in the ring against the three guards, anyway, but without Obanik’s sword. Hanjel and his friends were thrilled and they all gleefully drew their steel to kill Obanik, but it didn’t quite turn out that way. Obanik beat the three of them without his sword, killed one of them even, and knocked the other two unconscious. Hanjel and the other guard were demoted to new recruits and Obanik was shown the gate out of the city.”
“Will Hanjel arrest him for returning to the city?” Chekst asked.
“I don’t think so,” Lomar answered. “Hanjel curses the day he arrested him the last time. I fear he will try to kill Obanik and that, I am sure, will result in Hanjel’s death. I would arrest Obanik myself to save Hanjel, but I think the King might impose his original sentence on the Ranger and he doesn’t deserve to die for killing those fools.”
“You said you saw the fight,” Chekst asked, “why didn’t you stop it?”
“I wasn’t in the guard then,” Lomar stated. “It was Hanjel’s poor performance that made me want to join the guard. I was ashamed of his performance and thought the Kingdom deserved better than that.”
Tedi rose and casually walked out into the street, eyeing the door to the Bosun’s Jib. Hanjel was nowhere in sight, so he marched across the street and entered the common room. He found the innkeeper and inquired about Mikal Obanik and was told that he had gone out. Tedi wanted to alert Garth, but he did not want to leave a message with the innkeeper, so he left.
Arik was amazed at the wealth of merchandise available from the weapons merchants. There were swords of every shape and size, battle-axes, crossbows, longbows, horse bows, staffs, pikes; the list was endless. The variety of knives alone would keep Fredrik busy for a week just picking out the types he wanted. There were weapons that Arik could not name, or even guess what they were, or how they were used, and these were the ones that Tanya were interested in. She had already purchased five finely polished and balanced fighting staffs and something called a bola, which looked like a heavy cord with a ball on each end. The bola confused Arik until the merchant demonstrated its use. Still, he had no idea what Tanya intended to use it for. Perhaps she would give it to Niki and Niki could use it to snare herself a King.
Arik found himself fondling a longbow and the merchant asked him if he would care to try it out. Arik nodded and the merchant handed him a bowstring and three metal-shafted arrows. Arik bent the longbow, which was much stiffer than his Lorgo bow, and attached the bowstring. The merchant was on the edge of a practice field and there were several targets erected across the field at even intervals. The merchant suggested he shoot at the closest target.
Arik stuck two of the arrows into the ground and saw the merchant wince. He held the third arrow and felt its smooth finish and fine balance. He had never seen a metal arrow before and shuddered at the thought of leaving a dozen of them in enemy bodies after a battle. Killing could get to be an expensive hobby, at the price of these metal arrows.
“Remember,” the merchant said softly, “your drawback will be half again greater than your country bow.”
Arik nodded thoughtfully as he nocked the metal arrow. He mentally adjusted for the difference in force and smoothly let the arrow fly. His arrow struck lower than he would have thought and he quickly pulled an arrow from his own quiver and repeated the procedure. His wooden arrow hit dead center and the merchant smiled approvingly. Arik plucked a second metal arrow from the ground and, after mentally adjusting for the extra weight of the metal arrow, sent it sailing into his wooden arrow.
Taking the third metal arrow, Arik adjusted for the furthest target. The merchant saw the elevation Arik was applying and shook his head with his eyes closed. Arik smoothly let the metal arrow fly and it sailed into the target, not a thumb’s width from the center. Applause broke out and Arik turned to find several people had become spectators to his display.
The merchant beamed as he said, “Excellent shot, Sir. If you can repeat that last shot, I’ll gladly give you a tenth off the price of that longbow.”
Arik laughed at the merchant’s attempt to sell his longbow. He was well aware, from watching Tanya, that any of these merchants would give you a tenth back to make a sale. Still, the longbow felt good to his hands and it was extremely accurate.
“I will repeat it three times,” boasted Arik, “if you will give me three tenths off the price and a quiver full of these metal arrows.”
The merchant was taken aback by the audacious request, but the crowd, which had swelled greatly, applauded again and he quickly acquiesced to Arik’s request. He handed Arik three more metal arrows and Arik again stuck two of them in the dirt while he waited for the boy to clear the targets. When the field was clear Arik nocked his first arrow and easily sent it through the air, driving it into the center of the distant target. The crowd that had become very large applauded.
“What happens when one of these metal arrows strikes another?” Arik questioned.
“It is the same as a hit,” answered the merchant, “but it may damage the arrow. I will have the boy remove the arrows after each shot if you think that it is a possibility.”
Arik nodded and the merchant signaled the boy as murmurs ran through the crowd. Arik’s second arrow
