The Pilgrims

or I did. Been a while since I was there. We’ll scout it out. In a way, it’s good we’re not with Anfen. We’d be a lot less free to travel if we were. They’re putting up road signs with his likeness, and posting rewards. Serious business!’

And no thanks to you, right? But you seem cheerful enough, Eric thought. Aloud, he said, ‘Where are we headed, then? You’re our guide, it’d seem.’

‘And I work cheap! We’ll meet Anfen. He’s off to the council of Free Cities over in Elvury. We’ll stop in Hane, grab supplies and get you some more normal-looking clothes, so you don’t stand out so much.’ Kiown stood. ‘The girl downstairs said you paid with a red scale! Tut tut, what a waste. But believe me, that’ll cover our breakfast, and they can serve it with a song and a kiss, for what you’ve put in their safe. Where’s your grandpa?’

The door creaked open. ‘He’s right here,’ said Case, his footsteps padding in. ‘And he didn’t piss the bed.’

‘Then we shall celebrate,’ said Kiown.

Downstairs they had eggs and sausage, the innkeeper stacking food high on their plates, apparently mindful he’d been hugely overpaid for the room. ‘Don’t believe him either,’ Kiown muttered. ‘He’s got plenty of gold in the safe for an exchange. No matter. I’ll be back through here and I’ll rob the bastard. I’ve robbed this place before.’

‘Got away with it?’ said Case, who sat hidden by the charm necklace.

‘Sure did. They thought their help had done it. Hanged someone for it. I didn’t mean that. Dragon’s will, eh?’ He laughed. ‘Got a tidy sum of gold, even pissed in their ale barrel. Customers commented on the tang and drank it down in record time.’ Kiown downed his cup of mead in one long pull, spilling much down his shirt, then slammed it down, screaming obscenely across the room for another.

‘Pipe down,’ Case muttered. ‘One thing I learned in life, don’t ever mess with the people preparing your food.’

‘Good point,’ said Eric. ‘The innkeeper’s packing us supplies for the road. Or he was. We should stay in his good graces.’

Kiown waved this away. ‘They respect a rowdy drinker in these parts. First thing in the morning, even better.’

The innkeeper emerged with two small sacks, filled with bread, fruit, blocks of hard cheese, jerky and salted meats. ‘Patrol’s through soon,’ he said quietly. His eyes said it quite clearly: You are hereby invited to get the fuck out.

Kiown looked in the sacks. ‘I see you’ve disposed of your spoiling food! Here’s a thought. Get your scaly hide back in that kitchen and get us some fresh stuff for the road. I want two more sacks at least as full as this one. An old cook-fire pan while you’re at it. And when you get back here you can do a little dance for my amusement. And by the way: you are an ugly, ugly man.’

The innkeeper said nothing, but did indeed return to the kitchen. ‘Enjoy that?’ said Kiown. ‘Scaly hide? Hint, hint. He knows it too, the dirty thief.’

‘This food looks OK to me,’ said Eric. ‘Bread, fruit, meat. Even skins of water.’

‘It’s fine, but he can do better than that for a red scale.’

The innkeeper returned with another sack and dumped it heavily on the table, but behind it was a long knife. Very quickly it was at Kiown’s throat. The man snarled, ‘I hope these supplies are more to your liking, good sir. As requested, an old cook-fire pan in there too. Now enjoy guessing which of these food items were rubbed against the rat dead of poison overnight in my kitchen. The foam on its mouth was green. Get out.’

Behind the innkeeper’s shoulder, his daughter stood with a crossbow braced on her forearm, aimed at Eric. Kiown’s hand had found his sword hilt, but he weighed things up, smiled and said, ‘And thank you, tavern master, for breakfast. My meat was a touch overcooked, but only a touch.’

The innkeeper backed away, knife still at the ready. Kiown stood, and looked to weigh things up again. ‘Don’t do it,’ Eric said nervously. The innkeeper’s daughter had followed him with the crossbow.

‘Wise,’ said the innkeeper. ‘She’s a fine shot. You’d be her second this month. Now. I’ll forget you, should the patrol ask of wayfaring travellers. In return, you forget me, if you start to pine for that scale.’

‘Haven’t you done a handy day’s trade,’ said Kiown pleasantly, twitching fingers the only indication of his rage.

‘I know my business,’ said the innkeeper, a glint of humour in his eye. ‘And I’d be careful paying your way with scales. No one has done so in this country since my grandfather’s day, and I hear a castle wagon train was robbed. A grand mystery, that. Swift travels t’you.’

36

They set out through what looked like English countryside, with the occasional farmstead and patch of scenic woodland. They went largely off road, since the terrain easily allowed it, sneaking a look through the foliage at the rare people going by road. There was something secretive and hurried in the manner of most travellers they saw. Soldiers sometimes walked by in light chain mail, always in pairs, chatting and laughing: they alone seeming light of spirit. ‘Always this way in Aligned country,’ said Kiown. ‘People try not to stand out.’

‘Too bad we do,’ said Eric. Even Kiown dressed unlike any other natives, with his long black sleeves and pants nearly skin tight about his lanky frame.

‘Mmm, we do. But we wouldn’t dare walk around dressed this strangely if we had something to hide. We must be important, maybe even on castle business. You watch, if there’re any roadblocks, they’ll think that very thing as long as we stay calm.’

‘They’ll think we’re top secret castle crack troops?’ said Case.

‘You jest,’ said Kiown. ‘Such people do exist. You’d be surprised. They’re called Hunters; I’ve encountered them. And they strike terror in the common grunt. So shall we.’

They put good distance behind them without incident, stopping off road now and then to eat the more perishable of the innkeeper’s goods. ‘Worried about what he said of poisoned rats?’ said Case as they sat on boulders near a crystal-clear stream through which black fish sluggishly pushed against the current, ignoring the pebbles Kiown skimmed at them.

‘Rats? Nahh,’ he said, stuffing into his mouth a hunk of soft, flavoured bread. ‘That was just play. But he was pretty close to cutting my throat. Made me sweat, I tell you. Even though I had a magpie-slayer there to help.’ Kiown turned to Eric. ‘Let’s hear the tale again.’

Eric groaned, not wanting to relive that trauma.

Kiown patted his arm. ‘Reluctant, I see. How odd. I’m used to travelling with Sharfy. He squashes a fly, and it’s a four-hour saga. If he killed a magpie, the tale would never end.’

‘It’s as I told you. I just hurt it. Anfen finished it off.’

‘Hurt it with a sword? A crappy little standard-issue sword?’ said Kiown, an eyebrow raised.

He still hadn’t mentioned the gun. ‘Yes. What else, my bare fists?’

‘Mmm. Brave of you.’ His look clearly said he sensed something missing from the tale, perhaps thinking Eric had lied to impress him. Eric changed the subject. ‘Did you see the war mage last night?’

‘Heard it,’ said Kiown, wolfing down the last of his bread and crouching by the stream to refill their skins.

‘What’s the plan, if it comes back for us?’

‘Run. Scream in fear, too.’ Kiown pondered. ‘Odds it was here for you are most slim, O Eric, inn-finder. For had it been, you would right now be a steaming mound of cooked flesh.’ Kiown stood, stretched. ‘Night approaches! One more hour and we’ll make camp.’

Despite the day’s exertions, Eric and Case both struggled to sleep in the little enclave he led them to, with its piles of soft dry grass set up as though he, or someone, camped out there frequently. They risked a small fire, though no mage was there to keep its smoke and light hidden from prying eyes, and ate well of the innkeeper’s food again, not too mindful of dwindling supplies; Kiown could hunt game, he assured them, and they’d be able to buy