Ashar'an Rising (Nexus Wars Saga) (54 page)

Kalamar was glad for at least one thing as he slowly walked the narrow, dirty streets of Cartyl, and that was the cooler sea breeze, even if it carried with it some of the less savory smells a port city garners.

The road before him sloped away slowly, for he was descending to the docks. He was a little perturbed by the lack of identification by any of his men, who should have recognized him by now and made their presence known. Maybe they were busy with some other important matter, or maybe his disguise as a vagabond threw them more than he assumed. His fake grey beard itched, and his right leg was almost cramped from having to limp through the big city. He gave a wry smile as he realized the limp wasn’t wholly faked after a run in with some brigands outside the city the previous night, but the thigh wound was just a bruise from a heavy cudgel one brigands had carried. Still, there were seven less brigands to waylay people coming and going from the city.

Although this was not his first time in Cartyl, he still felt uncomfortable in the Port city because of one main reason: its unpredictability. Many of the people who visited it were sailors or people of less than reputable background, for just about anything and everything could be gotten in Cartyl for the right price. The Duke of the city, a man by the name of Austell, was a descendant of a Pirate himself, or so the legends tell, but the man was more suited to the finery of the palace than the hardships of a sailing ship. He was a shrewd man whom Kalamar had never really liked, and he was usually a pretty good judge of a person’s character.

The tavern he eventually found himself at was a large dwelling, which to all appearances was just like the dozen other along the dingy and dark street near the docks, but a closer look might have noted it was cleaner than any other building along the street. The reason for such might have been evident when you saw the Innkeeper, as Kalamar did when he pushed through the heavy swinging doors, which did nothing to keep the unwholesome smell from the interior.

The woman was tall and angular, and there was a beauty about her not of feature but of bearing. Her flowing hair was dark and lustrous, even tied back as it was now, and the stained apron around her slender waist did little to hide her feminine charms. But Kalamar was not fooled by her apparent litheness, for she was deadly with the several concealed daggers she carried beneath the tight dress. Her name was Faith, not her real name, but she was a former prostitute turned Innkeeper, and now she was working at a more reputable if no less laborious career, made more prosperous by her affiliation with Kalamar, who paid her to be a front for his spy network here in Cartyl.

It was early in the morning, but already several patrons sat scattered around the room, maybe patrons who were very keen, or sailors just in from a cruise and needing to sate their thirst. Kalamar gave them a more than cursory look from under the heavy cowl of his cloak, and realized they were all more or less what they appeared.

“
What is your pleasure?” asked Faith without looking at him as he sat awkwardly on the stool, trying to conceal the Saber belted at his waist. He knew she had been alerted to his presence as soon as he entered, but had relied on her two burly bouncers to see if he was dangerous or not. At least his guise was good enough to fool the two who were probably very good at spotting trouble, and he wondered what Faith’s reaction would be when she realized their error.

“
Well, the ale isn’t getting any colder.” With a start he realized he was staring at Faith’s curvy figure and mentally chastised himself as he cleared his throat noisily. He had always had a soft place in his heart for the former prostitute, and though he had never slept with her, he did have feelings for her he knew went beyond a mere fondness, but he could not allow himself those thoughts in his profession.

“
A mug of your finest, and some hot food.” His cloak muffled his voice and he spoke in a thick slur, as if he was really a bum who had already been drinking, and it fooled her as she turned to pour his ale from a large cask behind the bar.

“
Four silver for food and ale,” she called as she finished the pour and turned to bring it over to him, and he again admired her legs and hips as she walked, but carefully hid his eyes as he lowered his eyes to grope about in a pocket for change.

“
I’ll make it four gold if you can get rid of that smell.”

Her slight intake of breath was the only indication of her recognition of his voice, and with practiced ease she placed the tankard of ale on the bar. Kalamar raised his eyes and looked at her then from beneath his cowl, and saw she was showing no further signs of shock other than a slight blush of her pale cheeks. Always the professional, she would not give away any sign the conversation was in any way irregular, just in case any of the patrons were not who they pretended to be.

He brushed her hand with his fingers in greeting as he gave her the four gold coins, and was rewarded by a wafting of her strong perfume as she dropped the coins into a pocket sewn into the fold of her bosom, safer than any other place on her body. Kalamar was also afforded a brief glimpse of her womanly figure, and he had to once again quell the familiar urges of his body.

“
Your food will be ready soon.” She flashed him a brief smile that made his stomach churn, before she turned to enter the kitchen through a door directly behind her, the accentuated sway of her hips a visual tease for him and he gave a shake of his head and a soft chuckle. He had shared the bedchamber with many women in his life, had never loved in return, but with Faith, he could not tell if his feelings were from love or lust.

He moved to a table in the corner of the room and sat, removing his small pack and setting it atop the table within constant reach and view. He sat so he could see the front and back doors, as well as all of the patrons, though he set to his ale with his head slightly bowed, pulling his hood back to reveal his features, but trusting in his disguise to fool anybody who might have ordinarily recognized him.

Faith returned after a longer than usual wait with his food, and Kalamar thought her hair might have been a little straighter and her hands and face were clear of the small specks of grime from before, and he gave a thin smile as she set the platter of food before him. It was not the best food he had seen, nor was it bad, and it smelled so very good for him who hadn’t eaten a proper meal in over a week.

“
Thank you, Faith,” he whispered softly, which drew a fleeting smile from her, and he thought he smelled the faint scent of roses about her. “Do you have a room?” he asked, louder so anybody who was trying to overhear could, and not be suspicious.

“
Yes, room Thirteen, up the stairs and to the right. The previous tenants have all just left.”

He nodded thanks to her as she whirled, and it was a struggle to choose whether to look at her as she departed or to begin eating the warm food, but her shapely legs won out and he followed her until she rounded the bar. The food came next, and as he ate slowly, savoring the food, he reflected on the news Faith had told him. Room Thirteen was the room where he always stayed when here, because it had a secret passage that led to the quarters of his spy network here in Cartyl. That they had all left surprised him, for usually one man was required to stay for security reasons. Most likely pressing business had come up, perhaps a coordinated stake out and shadow of a high ranking merchant or noble, or hopefully something to do with the whereabouts of Kitara.

By the time he had finished his meal and drank two more tankards of ale, there was still no sign of his men, so he rose and limped to the stairs leading to the rooms above. He hoped the men had something to take the pain away from his leg, for it was stiffer now after being off it for a while. Room Thirteen was unlocked, so he entered and locked it behind him. Only Faith and one of his men had a key to it, so he felt fairly safe. It was to all appearances a normal Inn room, large because it was suited for several travelers, with cupboards and beds lining the left and right walls. A small room opened off the right wall, leading into a small bathroom. A large shuttered window dominated the far wall, but it was closed and locked.

He detected the faint smell of roses and assumed Faith had been in recently, and he looked under the entry mat and found a folded note, with the letter ‘K’ on it. Opening it, he found a small letter penned for him.

“
I will talk to you later.” There was no indication of who wrote it, but he recognized Faith’s handwriting.

The entry to the hidden base was in the bathroom, behind a sliding wardrobe, but he had no key to gain entry, so he decided to wait for the others to return. He tossed his pack onto a bed and removed his clothes and weapons. Naked, he padded into the bathroom and found the bath was warm, and he gave a smile. Faith was looking after him.

Returning to the bedroom, he quickly removed several coins from his purse and moved to the door. Gently he pressed them between the door and the upper jamb, so that anybody opening the door inwards would dislodge them. Then he stowed his pack under the bed nearest bathroom, keeping his saber with him. He slipped into the tub and lowered himself to his neck, letting the water ease his tired muscles. The water was just right, and it wasn’t long before he was dozing.

The jiggling of coins woke him with a start, and he was standing in a flash, his saber coming to hand in a heartbeat, but it was a moment before it registered to him that is was not the right noise for what he had expected. Instead, he found himself standing naked in the tub before Faith, who stood leant against the doorway, jingling a handful of coins before her.

His coins!

He stood watching her for a moment of stunned silence, and then sat back down in the tub with a frown. He must be getting old.

“
Don’t you ever knock?” he growled in mock anger, though the real reason he had sat down was to hide his nakedness from her.

“
Its a bad habit of mine,” she confessed with a soft sigh and a shrug of her shoulders. He realized she had changed clothing, and now wore tight black pants and an equally tight white shirt, with long sleeves. A long towel was draped over her left shoulder. He forced himself to look elsewhere as he set his saber back on the side of the tub.

“
Well, it is your house, I suppose.”

She laughed at this, and took the towel from her shoulder and held it out for him. He almost blushed as he rose and waited at the edge of the tub, covering himself with his hands until he realized she was waiting for him. With a stifled curse he gingerly climbed from the tub and walked over to her, not giving her the satisfaction of looking at her as he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around himself. He held it in place with one hand while his other carried his saber, continuing into the main room. Her laughter followed him and he did flush then, though he was glad she couldn’t see it.

“
Don’t worry, Kalamar. I have seen plenty of men in my time, and you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

Wondering if she were making fun of him, and deciding it was for better men than he to fathom what women really meant, he sat on one of the beds and laid back with a sigh. He knew from the feel of the cold water in the tub he had been dozing for a while, though it was still bright through the shuttered window, so he guessed it was probably early afternoon.

“
Here. I have something for you.” Shifting his gaze, he barely saw the small projectile coming for him, but his hand snapped out and caught it as he flashed her a mock frown. It was a small container. Wondering what was in it, he opened it away from his face, a force of habit, and looked inside. It was filled with an oozing brown substance that smelled faintly of acorns.

“
Its a salve, silly, for your leg. It was expensive, but it is very good, and will heal almost everything, or so said the Merchant who sold it to me.”

“
I knew that,” he lied, though he had assumed it was something of the sort.

“
And this.” She reached behind her, where something was leaning against the wall near the bathroom door. A little longer than his arm, it was slightly curved in its dark leather scabbard, and the thread bound hilt was long, with a small, circular guard and an inch of gold as the pommel.

“
An Al’katar! Where did you get it?”

“
From a merchant friend. I told him I would be interested if he could find one for me.”

She held its sheathe, offering it to him. He grasped the hilt softly and slowly pulled it free. The blade gleamed as it hissed free of the sheathe, and Kalamar drew the blade up before his eyes and ran his fingers over it lovingly. His trained eye noted the fine quality of the blade, and he could see the edge was fine. Not even a tiny burr marred the diamond enriched edge. Even the blade was of Adamantine, not just steel.