Elet - Any better titles?

The Sun was setting.
In the village of Elet a fire was burning. The main square was thronged with people as the entire population turned out to celebrate the festival Kenetor, or Midwinter's day. Although snow was falling those around the fire were warm, if slightly intoxicated.

James and Simon Rolder were bored. After six hours of celebrating with strangers they were looking for someone they knew. James knocked Simon's shoulder, pinting at the tall figure of a man standing by the fire.
"Is that Scot?" he asked his brother, grinning slightly.
As the two brothers approached the fire Simon called out
"Ho Scot!"
The figure by the fire turned, a warm smile on his face as the firelight danced across his blue and white tabard. On the front of the tabard the white wolf's head that had given the watchmen their more common names of the King's Wolves, or just 'the wolves'. Tales from the cities told of corrupt watch guardsmen who used their power for their own ends but in the lands around Elet the wolves werew regarded with affection.
"Ho Simon," their friend replied, "Have you two been having fun?"
James laughed as he said "More than you seem to be having. Are you on duty?"
"Aye. There was talk of a brawl. So far tonight there has not been the smallest sign of violence, from anyone. Well, I had best be off on my rounds." He left, merging into the shadows, and the brothers were lost in their thoughts for a few minutes. After a long minute of thought Simon reminded his older brother,
"We should get back home. Father will be busy with all the extra customers. I expect Aindru will have already been dragged from the party to help."
James smiled as he thought of their strong-willed sister, "Aye and she will have had to have leave behind her court. half the boys in the village her age are in love with her." Simon laughed but suddenly grew more sombre whenhe saw gathered outside The Travellers Lute, the family inn.
"What goes on?" he asked one of the crowd.

The man turned to face him and replied,
"Thom's having another arguement with Eipe Ason. Only this time Ason has brought a couple of armed thugs with him."

The two brothers looked significantly at each other then unceremoniously shoved through the crowd. Inside their father stood facing four armed men, engaged in a shouting match with the man who was leading the group. Their father was an imposing figure, standing at nearly six feet. His black hair, tinged with grey, gave him an aura of authority and his brown eyes blazed with anger. Nearly as imposing was the shining broadsword held loosely in his hand. It was a memento from his solddiering days, as were the other weapons hung around the inn. Behind the bar itself was where the broadsword usually hung and it and the rapiers by the door were polished often.

The man leading the group yelled in a deep, throaty voice,
"I don't care who you intend to leae this inn to. I am here for Aindru!"
"So that's your game? You wish to marry a girl a third your age?"
"I will have her!"
Thom's voice lowere to it's normal volume as he said,
"You are scum, Eipe. My daughter will be your wife over my dead body."
The men around Eipe began to spread out, unsheathing their weapons. Two held longswords, and the third a rapier. Eipe himself pulled a broadsword much like Thom's from it's scabbard. He said,
"So be it." and cut downward at Thom's head, who only just managed to knock aside the blow before it split his head in two.

The two brothers turned as one and snatched the rapiers off the wall. Eipe's me turned to face them. Both James and Simon had been trained in swordsmanship from their father, and although Simon was the better duellist James put his height to good use. Still, three on two was not a good thing. The two longswords moved to James, wrongly reckoning him to be more dangerous. As they got closer James recognised one of them,
"Hett? I had thought better of you."
The man named Hett Ason, a supposed friend of Simon, looked aplogetic and was about to speak when his companion cut him off, saying, "Blood's thicker, Hett."

Hett's eyes narrowed, and he hefted his longsword. He was good with a blade. But not as good as Simon, a voice told him. He gave a bitter smile, remembering that whatever he tried his hardest at, Simon always surpassed him. Then he lunged.

James danced to one side as the blade speared the air where he had been a moment before. He smashed his fist into Hett's face, the stunned man dropping to the floor. He turned to the other man to find him grinning.

"I haven't duelled one on one for years, boy. I thought maybe I had lost the knack. I haven't." he said, before launching into a series of overhead blows that forced James back across the room.

The man's rapier lashed out again at Simon, who only doged within a hair's breadth of being dusembowelled. This time tham man had overeached and Simon struck back, making a deep cut across the man's face. Simon moved to strike again but the man kicked out, catching Simon in the shin, and both men fell to the floor. Simon was up again in an instant, as was the man.

Yet again James parried, as his assailant unleashed a frenzy of blows. He was backed against a table and he threw himself backwards onto it, feeling that man's longsword cut along his inner thigh. As he rolled off the opposite side of the table a cry rang out. Eipe staggered backward, the hilt of Thom's blade protuding from his stomach. Evidently somehow Thom had disarmed him a few moments before.

Taking advantage of the distraction Simon kicked his partner in the groin and he staggered back to the wall. As he raised his hand to strike down at Simon, Sinom's rapier drove through his sword hand, pinning it to the wall. Simon let go of the rapier and kneed the man in the belly before knocking him unconcious with his fist. As the unnamed man slumped to the floor Simon pulled his blade free. He looked around. Thom was restin agains the bar from several wounds across his torso. James was still trading blows with his attacker, who seemed to be tiring, and the crowd had thinned out as the bloodshed had begun. He walked over to where James was fighting, and kicked James' hawk-nosed assailant in the back of the leg. At the same time James thrust his blade up to the hilt in the man's shoulder.

WOW! I like, i like very much! Seriously, that is good, you should start a book about this, its great!

You do? Well I have written a lot off the computer, so I can type moe up if you want... 😄

Hawk-nose attempted to drive his blade upward as he fell and Simon ran him through from behind. The man's eyes brightened as he said,
"Good fight," then dulled as his lifeblood spread over the inn floor.

James knelt quietly by the dead man, his eyes moist. He had seen dead men before, and violence. But never has a man lain dead because of one of his acts. He knew it had been kill or be killed, but a man was dead.

Simon sighed inwardly at his brother's remorse. Although younger Simon was of a much more practical view of the world. He had killed a man, yes, but he had done it defending his family. Neither of the brothers had done wrong, but he knew his brother well enough to know that he needed time alone. Simon stood up slowly and walked over to his father.

Thom was smiling slightly. He was proud of his sons. He stood up and gave Simon a warm hug. Then a shadow crossed his face, “That bastard wanted Aindru. I was lucky, for she is not yet home from the party. And I’m glad to see you have learned from all those hours of fighting practice. I told you it would come in useful one day and I hope you never have to use your skills again” he told Simon. “Now, I must talk to your brother. Obviously killing unsettles him more than most. Will you go find your sister?” It was more an order than a question, but still Simon replied, “Yes father”, and walked out, the crowd parting before him, and dispersing as they realised the fun was over.

Thom squared his shoulders and walked over to the kneeling James. He lightly touched his son on the shoulder, causing him to look up.
“There was no other way, son.”
“I could have disarmed hi. After his comrades died I should have given him the chance to surrender.”
“It would have proved futile. He was a hardened fighter, and I saw you were hard-pressed to defeat him. If you had tried to disarm him, it would have been your blood staining my floor, not his.”
“Father, why did he try that last blow? He knew Simon was behind him.”
“Some things, James, are unknown to any except the man whose act it was. Some things are known though, and your actions were the only thing to do. Now get up off that floor and go get some rest.” Thom’s voice took on a more kindly tone, “Go get some rest. We’ll have things to do in the morning.”

Simon walked through the celebraters, looking for the group of older children he knew he would find his sister with. Near the fire he spotted them, the boys drinking for all they were worth, and the girls laughing at their antics. He saw his blond-haired sister holding the attention of both groups and called out,
“Aindru!”
The girl turned to face him, and he could see the face half the village boys her age were in love with. Large green eyes flashed out from under immaculately brushed hair. Highly toned cheeks stood guard on each side of her full lips. The boy she had been talking with looked slightly miserable as Aindru’s attention moved from him. At thirteen she was two years younger than his fifteen, and three years from James’ sixteen.

“What do you want, Simon?” she asked, a subtle hint of annoyance in her voice.
“That old fool Eipe Ason came to demand your hand again” he told her, “Father’s . . .”
“What? What has father done now?” Aindru interrupted.
Now it was Simon’s turn to show annoyance. “Let me finish. Father’s killed him. The man brought some of his family to help though, so two lie unconscious on the inn floor, and a third is dead.”
“And I’m wanted home?” All annoyance had fled from her voice, to be replaced by worry.
“Yes. You coming” he asked.

Aindru turned to her friends and wished them a good night and soon brother and sister were back at their family inn. As they approached two figures ran out the door and disappeared into the night, one clutching his hand.

“I think that was the two men who were with Eipe!” exclaimed Simon, “Come on!”
He broke into a run, Aindru following, slowed by her dress. Simon burst through the door, colliding with Scot, who was rushing toward the door.
“Whoa!” yelled Simon, “Look to your father! I must be after them.”
Simon looked round and saw Thom holding a bloodied hand to his head. He was aware of Scot running out as he dashed toward his father. Thom was grinning at Simon, even though his face was drained of colour.

Aindru raced in and went straight to her father. When she saw his head wound she pulled a kerchief from a hidden pocket and held it to the wound.
“Hold it there,” she ordered “while I fetch Father Lario.” She dashed out, leaving father and son in a shocked state.

“Where did she learn that?” Thom asked his son.
“Maybe the gods know, but I don’t” answered Simon with a quick grin before his expression turned sombre again, “Now what happened to you?”
“Ah. I turned because Scot came to see about the trouble with Eipe. The two tried to leave, but I recognised one of them. As I exclaimed the other one hit me across the back of the head. Instead of going straight after them that young fool of a watchman made sure I was not badly hurt.” Despite what he said, Simon knew Thom had a deep affection for Scot, maybe not as deep as with his sons and daughter, but deep enough.
“He hit you from behind?” Simon’s tone was incredulous, “That coward is going to pay. Who was he?”
Thom could see an anger in his son “I have seen many men give in to anger before, son, and many of them died because of it. You do not know the man. His name is Adan Pearce. I met him once, long ago. In the most eastern dales of the farthest duchy there is a legend about his name, and he himself is of noble blood.”
“Still, I will kill him.” Simon’s voice was plain and he spoke as if it was a matter fact.
“If that is the course you choose I do not envy you.” Thom shook his head sadly. “But now we must all rest. You go up now, and I’ll wait till Aindru returns with Laurie. I’m proud of you son. You and your brother, even though he takes these things badly. He will get stronger, marke me that.”
“I know. But now I will go to bed. Goodnight father,” Simon turned and left, heading up the stairs.

As James descended the stairs the next day the buzz of the common room was louder than usual. Although he had woken at sun-up he had not left his room until now, Aindru bringing him his meals. Now it was almost dusk and he had spent a day reasoning with himself. After many hours of striving to reach a conclusion he had resolved that what had happened was necessary and that had he been faced with the same again he would have killed both men, not just wounded them. As he entered the room there was a brief silence, talks starting up again as he made for the bar to sit next to him.

Simon turned to see his brother approaching and saw a different person. Where before his brother would swagger he now walked with the confident step of someone who has not a care in the world and his eyes showed decisiveness where they had gleamed with boyish impunity before.
“You look better” he remarked to James.
“I feel it too. I’ve realised what we did was necessary.”
“Maybe, but right now us and father are the centre of a debate.” Simon gestured vaguely around and James could, on closer inspection, see that many men were in heated argument with their neighbours. “So far I think most agree with what I did, and a few have been swayed by the cowradly attack on father last night.”

“What attack? I’ll admit four on one was cowardly, but we evened that out, didn’t we?” James looked and sounded perplexed.
“Oh, I forgot. It was after you were abed. I was sent to fetch Aindru and while I was gone the one you knocked out and the one I stabbed in the hand clubbed father over the head and ran. Scot’s after them now with six mounted men and a tracker. He’ll find them by tomorrow, I’d wager.”

James was about to reply when the door opened and six men dressed in red tunics walked in. Silence fell, for these were not just watchmen, they were men-at-arms from the garrison stationed at Onir, part of the King’s army. The obvious leader, a tall man with broad shoulders and a rough beard stepped forward. In a gruff voice he announced,
“We are here to recruit any who wish to join your liege lord, Duke Brion of Almein’s army for service to our king.” A few people in the room looked round exchanging significant looks with each other. Simon turned his head to tell James what he thought of the idea and saw the enraptured expression on his face. As the guards sat down at one of the few empty tables, James turned his head, excitement in his eyes
“Aee you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked his younger brother, to which Simon replied,
“I hope not. You look like you’re thinking of joining these fools. Are you?” James grinned, a wolfish grin, and Simon continued, “You only killed one man yesterday and it has taken you till now to get over it. And you think you’re ready to kill scores of men in battle in a day?” Simon’s tone was unfaltering in his accusation but James’ expression didn’t falter either and he answered,
“I am ready for that. Yesterday opened my eyes”. James’ tone was flat and in place of the excitement determination now showed in his eyes. He got up and moved over to the table the soldiers were seated at, sitting down on a chair pulled from another table.

Simon watched for a few seconds then turned to the bar and found himself looking into the eyes of his father. Thom shook his head in sorrow and spoke quietly.
“Your brother’s gone to join up?”
“It’s what he wants to do. Can you change his mind?” Simon asked his father.
“If I did, and I won’t, he would resent me for it.” Thom’s voice was laden with a weight Simon had never heard from his father before and her remarked,
“There’s a war on with
“I know. Does he?”
“Yes. Scot was talking to him of going to join a unit where his tracking skills would be recognised,” Simon said.

After a few minutes of talk James and the two other that had moved to the recruiters had learnt that the squad leader’s name was Sergeant Dane Blackguard, and he trained the recruits at Onir. He had come on the recruiting trip so that none of the men sent to him would fail his course. He had told the three potential volunteers, who were all in their eighteenth to twentieth winters, that they would all be accepted should they choose to join up. At this James had taken a look at the other two. One was about six inches taller than him, with a muscular build who looked as if he could pull an oxcart by himself and the other was slightly smaller than him.

“How long will you be here?” asked the smaller one, his eyebrows slightly knotted in what could have been concentration, or worry.
“What’s the matter Brin, got to get permission from your mother?” asked the bigger one with a booming laugh. The small Brin quickly replied “No, I’ve got something to do. Shut up.” Before his friend could reply, as Brin’s cheeks turned red beneath his mouse brown hair and pointed nose. The sergeant laughed at the boy’s embarrassment. Two of the other soldiers grinned but the third, staring levelly at James, kept his expression intent as Blackguard replied,
“Two days. A day for word to get to the remote farms, and a day for any potential recruits to come to us and sign up. When’s market day?”
James spoke up, pulling his attention from the soldier, who had stopped staring at him and was now looking round the room, and said,
“Tomorrow. You chose a lucky day to visit. Everyone comes to town for market, except those who got rid of all their goods yesterday. “
“We tried to get here for the festival, but the snow held us up. So are you lads going to join up?”

James replied at once, “Yes.” But the other two were slightly hesitant before Brin replied,
“If I can, I will. How about you Oten?”
Oten thought for a long moment before speaking clearly,
“I am going to join up. First I need to talk to my parents.”
“What happens if they say no?” asked James, inquisitive.
“I’ll still join up. I would just rather have their blessing first.”

All the soldiers laughed at this, and James and Brin grinned. Then the sergeant told them that he was off to sleep for the potential recruits on market day. One of his men joined him, and as they headed to their rooms Brin and Oten stood, and saying their farewells, left. One of the remaining soldiers moved over to where a game of Kahj, more commonly known as ‘Stale Wizards’ in the dales after the aim of the game being to win the Red Wizard and hold it. The other four wizards were bad to hold and players used all means to get rid of them. It was played using cards with figures and numbers painted onto them. Other, less popular, games were played using the same cards but involving the King, Queen or Squire of the file colours and sometimes any of the eight numbers. A full set of the cards was hard to come by, the invention being relatively new, and from across the border.

The soldier joined the game as a sixth player and left James with the soldier who had been staring at him earlier.
“I’m Stephan,” said the soldier, “I’ve been training under Sergeant Blackguard for almost two years now,” he looked to be about eighteen, with almost black hair and startlingly green eyes. “He’s a fair teacher if you do what he says and don’t get on the wrong side of him too early on. “So why do you want to join up?”
James, relaxed by the young soldier’s openness replied truthfully, “I don’t know. Yesterday I helped kill a man. He deserved to die, and I killed him in protection of my family. By fighting for my country I am defending my family and that is a good thing by all standards.” James looked slightly surprised but the man called Stephen looked content with the answer.
“Well, whatever your reason for it, I’m sure you’ll make a good soldier. Now I need to sleep. It was a long day travelling. Look after my gambling friend and make sure he doesn’t get into trouble, won’t you?”
James could barely reply that he would and say a goodnight before the man was on his way up to his room. He sat for a good few minutes before getting up to walk to the bar and sit opposite his father.

Thom spoke first,
“You’re joining up?” It was more of a statement than a question, but James still answered it.
“Yes. I’m going to leave with the soldiers in two days time. But first I want to ask for your blessing.”
Thom’s brown eyes showed his sadness as he added, “You have it. I expect there is no way I can change your course?”
“No. I am truly sorry father, but I have to do this.”
“So be it. Soon, I can tell, Simon is going to leave Elet. But for now I need both your help here. The bar is filling up with the farmers from yesterday’s festival who live too far away to go home and return for market. Its almost as busy as we were hoping for yesterday, and everyone here wants drinks. I have Aindru but go and find your brother. I think he’s checking on the horses.” Thom turned to a customer further down the bar, dismissing James.

James stood up and headed out the back to the small stable that could accommodate up to eight horses. Currently there were seven – the four soldiers’ mounts, one old nag that belonged to the inn, and was used for pulling the cart, and Scot’s large brown stallion. The use of the stable was free for customers, and although Scot had been offered the same, he paid a moderate upkeep, more than what Thom would have been able to charge. His brother looked after the horses, and forged firm friendships with the smith’s apprentice, Tom, and the part-time stable boy, Rofni, who helped out when more than four horses were under the inn’s care. While only ten, the boy had already gotten a reputation for being sneaky but fair, and had good charisma that left all those he met liking him. Tom was a tall, strong red-headed boy of Simon’s age who, although being quick to anger, didn’t pick fights he couldn’t win. He was also good at improvisation, and could handle almost anything thrown at him. Together the trio had formed a friendship with eight-year old Evan, a quiet boy who, before making their acquaintance, had few friends. However James know that Tom would be in the smithy and only Rofni, Rof for short, would be with Simon. The pair were not in the first two stalls which held the nag and Scot’s mount, but before he checked the third, James heard voices from the last stall. He walked down and found Simon and Rof lying in the hay each clutching a mug. On the ground between them there was a wineskin, which looked to be almost empty. Simon grinned at him,
“Come and join us!” he said.
James shook his head as he replied “I would, but father wants us both to help him in the bar.”
“Oh. Give me a second.” Simon leaped to his feet and for a moment James thought he was sober, until he almost fell over walking to the stall door, sending Rofni into peals of laughter. “Alright. Let me lean on you a bit and when I’m behind the bar no-one will notice.”

As they walked back in, with Simon’s arm draped extravagantly round his shoulder, James was smiling. From the corner one of the regulars who had seen his reaction when Hawknose had died called out,
“Good to see you over it, James!” The mand had no need to say what ‘it’ was, for the story had spread around Elet like wildfire. Nobody would be asking Thom for Aindru’s hand for a while, even if she did give consent and wanted them to.

Simon laughed at the remark, but the man who had asked it was refrained from saying anything else by a slight shake of Thom’s head. The two brothers walked up the bar and began serving customers.

Simon woke in the morning to the sound of a horse’s hooves. He shook his head for a few moments, trying to rid himself of a splitting headache but just making it worse. He groaned and let himself fall back, pulling the sheets around him as he wondered who was moving horses this early in the day.

James opened the shutters on his window to look down on what had woken him up. The four soldiers were in the courtyard, two of them saddling mounts. He looked around and from the window on his right he saw his sister’s head looking down.
“Aindru,” he said loudly, “go back to bed, its too early.”

Aindru turned and flashed him a quick grin before ducking back inside. James wondered briefly where his sister had disappeared to the night before looking back down at the soldiers. One of them saw him, the one he had had the brief conversation with, and waved. The other three turned to see James, silently regarding him for a moment before getting back to work. Then the soldier who had waved pulled himself into the saddle, as did another, leaving Sergeant Blackguard and the card-playing soldier on the ground. The two horsemen rode out of the small courtyard and the other two headed back inside. James headed back to bed.

And after what seemed like only ten minutes of sleep he was awakened by a loud knock on the door. He looked toward the window and saw the sun had changed its position. He must have been sleeping for at least three hours. Groggily, James stood up and headed to the door, opening it to see his sister standing there.
“You were supposed to help father make the stew for this morning meal,” she said in an accusing tone, hands on hips. Before James could reply, she grinned and said, “It’s alright. Simon said it was his turn.”

The sound of someone climbing the stairs was heard by both of them and James told her,
“Give Simon my thanks, if you see him before me, please.” Aindru smiled and did an exaggerated curtsey, “Yes master, whatever you say master.”
“None of that, or I’ll tell father where you were last night,” James used the same accusing tone as she had, and her grin disappeared.
“You wouldn’t!” Her voice showed shock that her brother would use such a nasty trick against her.
“Well I don’t know where you were,” James admitted, “but I can take a fair guess.”

A slight cough interrupted their conversation and Sergeant Dane Blackguard took James’ shoulder in a firm but gentle grip,
“I need to talk to you,” he told James, before asking Aindru, “You don’t mind if I borrow your brother, do you M’lady?” Surprised, Aindru just shook her head.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?”
Wordlessly, wondering what was going on, James led the Sergeant into his bedroom and indicated he should sit on the only chair while James himself sat on his sleeping pallet.

The sergeant nodded, apparently satisfied with the offer and as he sat down he mused out loud,
“Keep this up and you’ll be an officer in no time,” and for a brief instant James saw the pain in his eyes of a life based on death. Then the moment vanished and Blackguard spoke again, “Anyhow, to what I’m here for. You saw the soldiers in the courtyard?”
James nodded, “Yes.”
“Wrong. If anyone asks, you’ll tell them that those two soldiers left at midnight, and if they still persist, tell them that our other two horses were making a racket and you had to fetch us out. Do you understand?”
James nodded.
“What? Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. This holds lives at stake. If anyone does ask, come and tell me, or Lac. He’s one of the troops that help me train recruits. Do this for me and I’ll try my best to get you a good position when you’ve finished training. I will not, however, make training any easier for you. Tell your father the stew was excellent.” Then he was gone, leaving James to ponder his words.

Simon always enjoyed market day. The day was his to spend as he wished, and while most of his friends were working now, he would be at work while they relaxed in the evening. He was headed toward the west end of the market, where the traders just passing through Elet usually set up their goods. He enjoyed the exotic artefacts that occasionally passed through, and that was what the money he earned usually went on, except when he was courting a girl. Over the past season there had been very little of either, and Simon had almost fourteen silver marks in his purse. There were a few aspiring pickpockets, but Simon knew all of them by sight, and his reactions were fast enough to grab a hand while it was in his purse.

He reached the stalls without any trouble and was soon browsing. A few of the common traders had their stalls there but there were two faces unknown to Simon, whose goods seemed interesting, and a round, dark purple tent. He headed to the first merchant, a swarthy, dark-skinned man wearing a two-pronged hat which looked to be made of felt. The trader gave Simon the smile of the man with nothing to sell and instead of getting entangled Simon moved straight on, the merchant giving a last hopeful glance before realising Simon was a lost cause and turning to the next potential customer. The next merchant looked like he had been born locally, but had the rugged, weathered skin of someone constantly on the move. As Simon grew nearer his interest was piqued by the objects on the unsheltered stall. A range of items, from those that looked mundane to a few which looked to be magical lay on a simple plain blue cloth. The merchant didn’t offer Simon an endearing smile, simply saying,
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” From his accent Simon instantly marked him as a local, or at least an Almeinian, and he slowly thought about the question. Normally his answer would have been a quick no but for some reason he had a feeling this wasn’t so,
“I . . .” he began before deciding on an answer “don’t know.”
The man smiled, “Good. I take it you collect these kind of things? Fell free to look at my small collection.”

To Simon’s mind the number of items on the table was by no means small, as there were at least double his own collection. Most of the items did not hold his attention very long, though a few did. He picked up a small pale globe. It looked to be covered in blue ice even though it was warm to his touch. As he looked at its surface many colours moved across it, and Simon strained to see a shape for almost a minute before putting it down. The next piece was a clear blue crystal rod that his eye almost missed against the cloth, and only saw it because of the circular black stone affixed to the end by tendrils of the crystal. The handle was square in shape and had hard angular edges that threatened to cut him as he picked it up swiftly. Unlike the globe, it was impossibly cold, and it was almost unbearable to hold. He put it down almost as quickly as he had lifted it up and looked for something else on the table worth his attention. A glint of metal caught his attention and he looked to its source. A dagger, looking to be made of a plain metal like steel, lay on the cloth. A small blood red ruby decorated both sides of the thin pommel, and highlighted the exquisite workmanship of the small blade. As he held the blade, weighing its point, his eyes were drawn back to the glob. Holding the dagger in his right hand he packed up the globe with his left. Turning to the owner he asked,
“How much would they be together?”
“Ten revels, thirteen marks.”
“So how much is the globe?”
“Ten gold revels.”
“And so the dagger is thirteen marks?”
“Yes. Do you want to buy it?”
Simon thought for a moment, putting down the globe. The man smiled and Simon reached into his purse for the money. “I would. How often to you visit Almein?”
The merchant took the money and placed it inside his robes without counting it, apparently surprised by the question. “Why do you think I don’t live here?” he asked inquisitively/
“Your look. And these items you’re selling. You’d not be able to find things like this in Almein.”
The merchant laughed, a short laugh that conveyed true amusement. “You’ll make a good spy, or thief.”
“What? Wh…” but Simon was interrupted by someone yelling his name.