Dream (6 page)

“Any of them mention housing?” Shad spun a penny on the tabletop. “A shilling a night is going to kill us. We need to find better quarters for the long term.”

“No, I didn’t ask,” Jeff admitted.

“Just as well-you covered the most important part. We’ll troll other waters for housing questions. Tomorrow we’ll see who wants to hire us to find an eye of newt.” Shad passed out charms to each of the others, tapping each’s wrist and whispering a word as he did so. “Keep this on your person. Makes you immune to bugs for a week.”

“Bugs?” Fred examined the charm.

“Fleas, bedbugs, ticks, mosquitos…normal stuff. Shelob won’t be bothered by it.”

“You had to mention Shelob,” Derek shuddered.

The room rental included four quarts of hot water in the morning. “Man, it’s not often I’m thankful for Iraq, but days like today I am,” Jeff toweled off after shaving with the straight razor that came with his toilet gear. “Between that and Ranger School I’ve learned I can deal with anything. And no running water is definitely something that must be dealt with.”

“Too true,” Shad pulled his shirt over his head. “Derek, did you get up to strength last night?”

“Much as I’m capable of,” the Shadowmancer nodded. “Which isn’t much.”

“Ask those Goblins how much is much,” Shad grinned. “But stick to combat spells. We need light, we’ll use a torch.”

Breakfast was fried corn mush, bread, and ale.

“Will our packs be OK in the room?” Derek kept his voice low.

“Yeah,” Jeff nodded. “From what the guys said last night this place has a good reputation, and reputation is everything here. Well, that and not getting shanked by an irate customer.”

The four took their time as they crossed the city, doing a bit of window-shopping and taking in of the sights. And there was an amplitude of sights and sounds, for while vehicle traffic was not as heavy as the newcomers would have expected, the foot traffic was plentiful. Watching artisans ply their trade, examining hand-made goods that would have fetched staggering prices back in their own world, and drinking in the many sights and sounds around them was both intoxicating and overwhelming. Even Shad, who was both intolerant and dismissive to a high degree, enjoyed himself.

Derek was able to trade his robes and ten pence for a shirt and trousers similar to those Shad wore, and which seemed to be the style worn by bravos and fighting men when not in war gear. Jeff sold the Goblin knives for eight pence each and the money was used to buy Derek a canteen and flasks for all four with which to carry vinegar for water purification.

“We’re down to one Mark four shillings,” Derek said quietly after the last of the purchases. “And a piece of amber. Enough to live on for a couple weeks, but not enough to get us equipped.”

“OK, enough sightseeing, fun as it has been,” Shad decided. “Let’s go see how hard it is to get hired by an alchemist.”

As it turned out the hiring process was not difficult at all. Alchemists were restricted to three streets: Alchemists Way, Alchemists Lane, and Transmutation Street, the three meeting at a small square that was adjacent to the city wall. The square, called Chemist’s Meet, was cluttered with push-carts dealing in foodstuffs, while the three streets were lined with shops.

The alchemists came in two varieties: the more common place which looked like a flea market, and which were thronged by a wide variety of customers, and a minority of shops which were elegant storefronts where a servant in livery answered the door. Traffic into the latter was a tiny fraction of the former, but from the manner of dress of the customers the cash flow was also disproportionate in favor of the shops.

What both had in common, besides the core nature of their business, was a need for a certain kind of work force. Bravos wandered the streets in small groups examining the chalk boards in front of the flea market establishments or the small slates hung discreetly at the side entrances of the high-end shops.

The four strolled casually and watched. “If you take a job, they take down the sign,” Jeff pointed out. “It’s not like a bounty.”

“Good to know,” Shad nodded. “Derek, go buy some paper and something to write with. We passed a pushcart with some stuff.”

“How do you want to do this?” Jeff asked when Derek returned with a blank journal, a pen, and a stone bottle of ink.

“Window shop,” Shad shrugged. “Read fifty signs and we’ll have a feel for what’s what. Then pick one.”

“We need a map of this area,” Fred observed.

“Good idea. That’s next on the list. Matter of fact, we can see if anyone we talk to for a job will recommend a map-seller. I bet they have heard that question before-we can’t be the first bunch of would-be heroes to come to the big city in search of fame and fortune.”

“OK, this looks like the best one,” Derek studied his notes. “Smale’s Emporium will pay one Mark per pound of white stone from the Silvermist Plains.”

“That bravo said the Plains were about thirty miles march from here,” Jeff reminded them.

“That’s a short trip for a good payoff,” Shad observed. “A Mark per pound?”

“The bravo mentioned Goblins,” Jeff grinned. “Wolf-riders.”

“Figures,” Shad shook his head. “Let’s go talk to the man.”

“The bigger the stone, the better,” Master Smale held up a brick-sized rock that was alabaster white with faint veins of bright silver. “The tracery is not silver, in case you did not know. And it goes without saying that we have ways to determine if it is the correct stone. Have you hunted Silvermist stone before?”

“No, sir.” In situations like this a respectful formality worked best, Shad felt.

“The Plain is one large field of it, but the surface deposits have long since been gathered up. Digging would be easiest, but tends to take time and attract attention. Your best method is to explore stream banks, or look for barrows or mounds as the Plains were once home to primitive Men who used white stone for the supports of their barrow-homes and burial mounds. Speaking of which, if you uncover any of their bronze weapons or goods I have a contact who will pay top price for them.”

“We’ll get on it at once,” Shad promised. “By any chance, do you know of a reasonable map-maker?”

“Eight shillings for a map!” Shad fumed. “Not today, that’s for damned certain. Not even with the shilling we got for the amber.” He glanced up at the sun. “Coming on noon. We could grab a meal, buy some rations and vinegar for the trip, and head out.”

“Sounds good,” Jeff agreed. “How many days rations?”

“Thirty miles one way, three days walking round-trip at least, call it four to be safe. Four more for looking. What about digging tools?”

“Small stuff,” Fred suggested. “We need to free up weight for the stone.”

“Good point. My pack is pretty empty, maybe twenty, twenty-five pounds all told. Our ration load will get lighter each day. Let’s get going.”

The Twilight Way left the City-State to the north-northwest, sweeping through the broad farm and pasture lands that fed the city.

“OK, ten miles up the road is Havenhall, which marks the end of the City-State’s reach,” Derek checked his notes. “About eight miles further on the road turns more or less due north, and at that point we should head southwest for about ten miles, which will put us on the Plains.”

“How big is Havenhall?” Jeff asked.

“About four hundred people, and a small castle nearby that acts as a border watch.”

“What are they watching for?” Shad wanted to know.

“Not much. Naturally, there’s the usual baddies around, but small scale stuff. From what the merchant said, aside from the City-State there’s only a stronghold to the north. For a hundred-fifty miles in any direction it is just small independent communities and tribes of non-Humans.”

“I’m surprised the Ultimate Master hasn’t expanded his borders,” Jeff observed as they trudged along. “Looks like all he would need to do is send out a few troops to establish security. I bet the locals in the boonies would be glad to see fighting men.”

“Good point.”

The four trudged on, ignoring the peasants in the fields who were carefully ignoring them.

“How far today?” Fred asked.

Shad glanced at the sun. “I figure we’ll camp out-that will give us a little edge on things. Get as far past Havenhall as we have light. Eighteen miles from Havenhall to the Plains, but ten of that is cross-country, so I figure that’s a full day.”

“At least we came in with boots that were broken in,” Jeff observed. “Small favors.”

Havenhall was laid out in a square, surrounded by a palisade of clay-covered timbers on three sides and a stone wall on the fourth. The fighting towers at each corner were stone, as were the gatehouses on the north and south sides.

The four bypassed the town, cutting through fields.

“Well, now you know why the Ultimate Master hasn’t pushed out further,” Shad told Jeff. “There’s a lot of gold going into that place.”

“What an idiot,” the handsome ex-Ranger and present Night-grifter shook his head. “He already has a castle overlooking this place.”

“I’m feeling a little better about our chances for taking him out,” Shad grinned. “If it was me, I would have put the money either into troops to secure more land, or to build a fort on the edge of the Direwood so loggers could push the trees back faster.”

Discussing the options of a ruler with a city-state at his dispoal they slogged on.

As the miles trudged by one step at a time the Talons found themselves relaxing, and resuming the bickering that had characterized their years-long relationship. Derek was hazed about fictional sexual oddities, Shad was mocked for his abrasive and dismissive personality, Fred for his slovenly living habits, and Jeff for his habit of running corrupt characters and a tendency to say things that came out horribly wrong.

“What are you doing?” Jeff asked as he approached Shad, who was sitting next to his pack.

“Working on a charm. I put in two hours last night, and am about an hour in today, and I’m almost done.”

“Three hours per? That’s rough.”

“It will get better. All we have to do is survive a few more levels.”

“Yeah, same old story. Here’s some sort of stew we concocted. We flipped for watches, you got last watch.”

“Good, I can work on another charm.”

Jeff sat on the grass, sitting off-set and facing so his field of view covered Shad’s blind zone. “Man, this feels too much like Iraq.”

“Worse than Iraq; there we had the firepower and a multi-layered organization. Here we’re very small fry with no one watching our back. The only advantage we have is that no one is gunning for us specifically, so all we have to worry about is the stuff labeled ‘
to whom this may concern’
.”

Jeff snickered. “No IEDs or RPGs, at least. I can’t say using cold steel is easier, but a spear-thrust is less scary than incoming tracers.”

“Or mortars. And I have to say, Goblins are easier to kill than people, even if the people are firing AKs at you. Mentally, I mean.”

“The stars look the same,” Jeff stared up. “Of course, I have no idea what our stars should look like, other than the Big Dipper and the North Star, which are still here.”

“Welcome to the Silvermist Plains,” Derek announced as the four crested a small rise in the late afternoon sun.

“How can you be sure?” Jeff surveyed the expanse of rolling highlands. “It’s just a little flatter than what we’ve been crossing.”

The Shadowmancer pointed to a small stand of trees. “See? They look like willows with gray leaves, almost silver. Silverlines. The alchemist apprentice I talked to mentioned them, they’re native to the Plains.”

“Great.” Shad sat on a log and dropped his pack. “Now all we have to do is find buried rocks.”

“That’s where it gets complicated,” Derek admitted. “We’re hardly the first. The easy stuff will be gone. I guess head deeper into the Plains, see what we see.”

“No,” Fred shook his head. “High ground.” He pointed to the hills that lined the plain.

“Why high ground?” Shad asked.

“Visibility,” the warehouseman-turned-barbarian gestured towards the hills. “You bury a warrior worthy of a mound, you either put him on a battlefield or you put him up high, someplace dominant. I saw that on NatGeo.”

“OK,” Shad nodded thoughtfully, idly tucking a couple pieces of bark into his charms pouch. “But wouldn’t everyone know that?”

“No,” Jeff shook his head. “The study of ancient people for purely intellectual purposes is a post-medieval thing. On Earth only the Catholic Church maintained that sort of intellectual research during the Dark Ages and Medieval times. I didn’t see a big religious presence here.”

“From what whats-her-face said, I bet these are not religious people,” Derek nodded. “Not as we understand the concept.”

“What about the mages?” Shad asked.

“They would look into stuff that would connect to power,” Derek admitted. “But not just for the sake of knowledge, at least not as a group. These barbarians are only noteworthy for their use of whitestone. I doubt much is really known about them.”