As Esk kar approached he understood why the travelers stood out from those who wandered into Orak. These strangers must come from a land far to the north, where men had darker beards and hair that contrasted with their lighter skin. All were unusually tall and well muscled. Even their clothing looked odd, a mix of leather and somber colors rather than the raw linen or flax shades preferred by those in the surrounding countryside.
Each stranger carried a heavy bow and a fat quiver full of arrows, but no sword or axe, only a long dagger at each hip. A small ass, tethered a few steps away, rested wearily under its load of packs, blankets, and cooking utensils, no doubt holding all the travelers’ worldly possessions.
“Greetings, Bantor.” Esk kar nodded to the accompanying guards as well. He tried to remember as many of his men’s names as he could. When he couldn’t recall a name, he still gave each man some kind of greeting.
It pleased him to see a simple gesture of recognition made them stand a little straighter.
“Greetings, Captain,” Bantor replied. “These travelers asked to speak to the leader of the village, and I thought it would be better for you to meet them here.”
Bantor had learned much in the last few months. In the beginning he would probably have directed them to Esk kar’s house and forgotten about them. Now he kept them under guard until his captain could determine what to do with them.
Esk kar turned to the newcomers, easily selecting the oldest and guessing by his age and resemblance that he was the father of the other two.
“Greetings. I’m Esk kar, captain of the guard.”
Esk kar was one of the tallest men in Orak, but he found himself looking straight into the eyes of all three strangers, an unusual sensation for him. “What business brings you here?” He knew they weren’t merchants or farmers. Even the boys, the youngest probably no more than fifteen seasons, looked hard and capable.
The elder man bowed slightly to show he considered himself an equal.
“My name is Totomes, and these are my sons, Narquil and Mitrac. We’ve come south to fight against the Alur Meriki. We may consider fighting with your village if, indeed, you plan to fight.” The man’s voice had a strong accent and his words came slowly, as if he had to translate each thought into words.
Esk kar’s eyes narrowed. Not one villager in twenty knew the name of the advancing steppes people. Most villagers thought all barbarians the same, and the fact that a particular clan actually might have a leader with his own name never seemed to occur to them. The Alur Meriki took their name from one of their early leaders, though Esk kar knew the original Alur Meriki had been dead for at least a hundred years.
That these strangers would know such a name seemed unlikely, unless they had some encounters with them. “Why do you wish to fight them?”
Instead of replying, Totomes leaned closer to Esk kar’s face, staring hard into his eyes before drawing back. “You’re from the steppes yourself, Captain, are you not? From what clan do you come?”
Esk kar felt his mouth harden at the unexpected question, one that few dared ask, and he felt tempted to order them out of the village. Instead he remembered Trella’s warnings about losing his temper. “I’ve been gone from the steppes people for nearly twenty years, Totomes, and here in Orak it’s rude for strangers to ask too many questions. Now, what’s your business here?”
“Our business is to kill as many Alur Meriki as we can. That’s why I ask you-from what clan do you come?”
“If you wish to fight, go back through the gate and head north. I promise you’ll find all the Alur Meriki you desire.” He turned to the men standing behind the strangers, keeping his voice calm but firm. “Escort these visitors outside the village and see them on their way.”
The youngest put a hand to his bow though it remained strung across his chest. “If you touch that bow again, boy, you’ll leave here without it.”
As Esk kar spoke, the guards behind the strangers drew their swords with a rasp and moved apart, while Bantor stepped to the side and put a hand on his sword.
Totomes spoke sharply to his son in a language strange to Esk kar’s ears, and the youth immediately took his hand from the bow shaft. “My son Mitrac still has much to learn about the ways of strangers. But I warn you that should anyone try to take one of our bows, they will die.”
Esk kar kept his voice calm. “I think you should be on your way before my guards put their swords in your backs or I regret my generosity. You’ll do no killing in Orak.”
“Are you the ruler of Orak,” Totomes said, his temper flaring, “that you can threaten those who want to enter your village even though they wish to fight against the barbarians?” Esk kar stared for a moment at Totomes. These men were hard of head, no doubt of that, but they looked ready to fight barbarians, or anyone else for that matter. They’d journeyed through a countryside filled with warriors, bandits, and thieves, and had somehow managed to survive.
The fact that they were foreign to these lands made that journey more remarkable. Travelers from distant lands took more risks in their journeys, always the first choice of robbers, since the victims would have no kin to demand revenge. One more reason why most men seldom traveled more than a few miles from where they were born.
Esk kar glanced at the bow the man was carrying. It was hard to judge its size, stretched diagonally across the man’s back, but it looked to be a foot longer than the ones Esk kar’s men trained with, which might make it a formidable weapon. Esk kar glanced at the weapons of the two boys. Their bows were every bit as long as their father’s.
Someone behind him coughed. Esk kar realize a crowd had formed, everyone frozen in place, ignoring the hot sun and staring at the men, caught up in the sudden tension and expecting to see blood spilled at any moment. He decided that such men as these could be useful, but harsh words had been spoken and now needed to be undone. He wondered what Trella would do. Probably offer them a cup of water. Or wine. Well, why not? He turned to Bantor.
“See that care is given to their animal.” He turned back to Totomes.
“Follow me.”
Without waiting for a reply Esk kar turned on his heel and began retracing his steps, walking purposefully and moving at a good pace. His guard struggled to keep up with him, and Esk kar resisted the urge to turn around to see whether Totomes and his sons were following. Traveling down the main street of Orak, he turned left on a smaller lane and almost immediately entered a small tavern, one that catered to travelers.
He paused for a moment, letting his eyes accustom themselves to the dim light, and he felt his bodyguard bump into him. Not many customers patronized the alehouse at that hour, and the innkeeper’s largest table stood empty. Esk kar headed there, calling out to the serving girl as he went. “Ale for myself and my companions.”
He sat down facing the door and saw the strangers standing just inside the doorway, squinting into the darkness. Esk kar motioned to his bodyguard. “Sit down and keep your hand off your sword.”
The guard grinned with admiration. “Captain, I thought they was going to stick us both in the back.”
Esk kar smiled grimly. “We could use men like these. Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.” He kept his voice low as Totomes approached the table and stood hesitantly before it, looking around the shadowy room.
“Are you going to stand there or sit down and drink some ale? Or aren’t you thirsty after your travels?”
Totomes looked as confused as he’d been angry, and before he could reply or even sit, the serving girl approached carrying five wooden beakers and a large bucket of ale. As the men stood there, she expertly poured the dark brown brew into the cups.
“I hope, girl, that this is decent ale,” Esk kar remarked as she finished. “I wouldn’t want my friends to be offended.”
She giggled, then looked at him with a provocative smile. “Our finest ale, Captain, in our best cups. Anything you want, anything, just ask.” She smiled at him, then gave a quick bow and walked off.
Totomes slipped his bow over his head and placed it lengthwise across the table between himself and Esk kar. His sons followed his example and sat down on either side of their father. The table was scarcely longer than the bows.
Esk kar raised his cup. “Welcome to Orak, Totomes.” He searched his memory for a moment, then added, “Narquil, Mitrac,” glad that he had repeated the boys’ names in his mind when he heard them, another trick he’d learned from Trella. “My name is Esk kar, and this is my lazy bodyguard for the day, Hykros.”
Totomes picked up his cup and matched Esk kar’s gesture. “To Orak.”
The five men all drank deeply, though Esk kar put his cup down first, still half — full. “I’m glad that we left the
