The Apprentice (8 page)

The walk
to the inn had been relatively uneventful, though Rowan had spent the entire
journey with his purse clutched tightly to his side, shooting suspicious
glances at Arry, who did not seem to mind or feel sorry. Arry had led them down
several of the darker and dingier streets towards the east side of the city
where they found their lodgings. He refused to actually enter the Cloak &
Dagger, saying that Ma’ Primm would make him work off some of the food he had
borrowed, but he did remind Baird that he could find the stables outside of the
west gate. As promised, Baird relinquished the coin to the boy, who took his
payment and left.

“Why
must we stay here?”

“Because
I’m not rich and it seems like a decent place. When you have slept in some of
the places that I have, you can appreciate any place that offers a bed,” Baird
responded. “Besides, no one will try to steal from you in a place like this.
Any thief will know that you have nothing worth taking.”

“No one
would steal from you anyway,” Rowan muttered, rubbing his bruises. “They would
look at the size of you and think it a bad idea, even without knowing that you
are skilled with a blade.”

“You
should not be complaining. You will be sleeping in a bed instead of on the
ground. And I am paying. Be glad for what you get.”

Rowan
grumbled in annoyance but said nothing more. One look at the Cloak & Dagger
made him think that he might be better off sleeping in a stable. At least there
the smell would not be so bad.

Baird
and Rowan entered the Cloak & Dagger and found themselves in a relatively
deserted tavern, which was hardly surprising given the time of day. The room
was spacious and filled with tables, most of which were empty. A few people
were present, scattered around the dimly lit room in hollow recesses along the
wall and at some of the tables. Rowan felt out of place. A shiver ran down his
spine as he received stares from the room’s occupants. A large man stood behind
the bar, cleaning a dirty glass with a rag that was equally dirty, if not more
so. Baird walked confidently across the room and leaned against the bar,
grunting loudly to make sure he had the barkeep’s attention, though he clearly
did. There wasn’t a face in the room that didn’t have an eye on the two of
them.

“Do you
need something?”

“I’d
like a drink for me and my companion,” Baird said, opening his purse and
tossing some coins onto the counter. The bartender took the cup that he had
been cleaning and began to fill it but Rowan stopped him.

“Do you
have a different cup?”

The
bartender glared daggers at Rowan but Baird tossed an extra coin on the counter
to placate the man.

“Clean
cups, please,” he said, smiling. “Thank you.”

The man
grumbled under his breath, offended, but he set the dirty glass down. Baird
motioned for Rowan to follow his lead as he sat. The bartender poured them
their drinks and then returned to cleaning his glass, occasionally glaring at
them from across the bar.

Rowan
gulped his drink and fought the urge to spit it out. The liquid burned his throat
as he swallowed and made his head swim. Baird drained half of his glass and
wiped his mouth, slamming the cup back onto the counter and motioning the
bartender to refill the drink. While he was waiting, Baird spoke to the
bartender again.

“I’m
going to need a room for myself and my companion,” Baird stated, taking his
refill.

“How
long are ya’ going to be staying?”

“Just
for the night,” Baird said. “I have business to attend to today and should be
done by tomorrow if no difficulties arise.”

“Just a
moment,” the bartender said. He turned and left the bar, leaving Baird and
Rowan alone for a few minutes. He returned shortly with a pair of old rusty
keys, which he relinquished only after Baird had paid for the room.

“You’ll
find your room upstairs,” he said, pointing to a staircase in the back. “Do
whatever you want, all we ask is that you don’t bring your business back here
with you and you keep things clean. I don’t want trouble. If you need
something, I’ll be here, or you can call on Ma’ Primm when she is around.
You’ll know her when you see her.”

Something
told Rowan that they should not expect very much from the bartender in the ways
of service or help. The man turned away and left Baird and Rowan to their
drinks. Rowan tried to swallow another sip, but he could not stomach it and
pushed the glass away. Baird quickly downed his own drink and then took
Rowan’s.

“Come.
There is no reason to linger. Let’s go find the room and then I will head out.”

They
found their room towards the end of the second story hallway. It was about as
bare as a room could be, adorned simply by a bed, a chair, and a rug. Rowan
took one look at the rug covering the greater portion of the right side of the
room and decided to claim the bed. He hopped onto the mattress and began to settle
in.

“Do not
get overly comfortable. You will be sleeping on the floor tonight,” Baird said,
lightly pushing Rowan aside and tossing his travel pack onto the bed.

“But
that’s not fair, you said—”

“I know
what I said. I also paid for the room, which means I get the bed and you will
be grateful to have a roof above your head.” Baird’s words were harsh but his
tone was light and his mouth tugged upwards in a grin. He seemed to be enjoying
his authority over Rowan. “Besides, who ever said that life was fair? I agreed
to take you along with me and I have adopted you as my apprentice. The floor
should not be such a hard price to pay.”

Rowan
grumbled but said nothing. Baird had been willing to take him away from
Corrinth, and he was grateful, even though his journey had not been one of
comfort and the knight was not what Rowan would consider a generous companion.
Still, it would be nice to have a roof above their heads and walls around them
to keep the cold of the night at bay, even if the walls looked a bit flimsy and
the ceiling seemed ready to collapse. Looking upwards, Rowan was glad there had
been no sign of rain. He saw no holes or cracks in the roofing, but that was
not enough to earn his trust.

“I am
going to try to find someone willing to sell a pair of horses. I will be back
at sundown, so until then you may feel free to do as you wish. Just make sure
that you can find your way back here by nightfall. And do not leave the city,”
Baird made sure to emphasize this point very strongly. “They close all the gates
to the city after dark so make sure you do not leave, else they will not allow
you back inside until first light.”

“I’ll
make sure to remember that,” Rowan said with a grin.

With
Baird gone, Rowan decided that he needed to bathe. Days of travelling had left
him smelling as only an unwashed man can. Suddenly conscious of his smell, he
went down to the common room to find some warm water. He found the man at the
bar still polishing the glass. Whether it was the same glass Rowan could not
tell, but it was equally dirty.

“We
haven’t got a washroom. If yer’ lookin’ to wash, you’ll be needing a wash
basin.” The barman looked around as if to make sure his customers would not
miss his absence before he went to a storeroom.

What he
returned with was dirty and old, bearing cracks along the rim. It was useable,
but only if a person was truly desperate. It looked to Rowan as though the
basin would soil any water added to it and he wondered to himself if the barman
had chosen it on purpose.

“Ye’ll
find water out back. It isn’t hot but there’s nothin’ for it. Carry it to yer
room if ya’ wish for privacy, but don’t make a mess.”

He
shoved the basin towards Rowan and left him alone. Out back was a small fenced
area where a horse or two might be stabled. There were no animals at present,
but the stalls smelled as bad as if there were. It was dirty ground and Rowan
knew he would have to wash his feet inside if he ever hoped them to be clean.

Along
the back wall of the inn was a large stone basin filled with water. Beside it
were two barrels of water, both looking marginally cleaner than the stone
basin.

Looking
at the cracks in the washbasin, Rowan realized he would not have the luxury of
privacy. He stripped off his shirt and poured water over his head, bending over
to keep the wetness from reaching his pants. They could do with a rinsing as
well, but that would have to come later. The water was cold but refreshing, and
Rowan hurriedly scrubbed himself clean. He washed himself several times over,
making sure to get an extra fill of water for his feet, which he rinsed after
reaching the back stairs.

Feeling
much better, Rowan went back to the room, taking the washbasin with him. He
placed it on the lone chair in the room, stripped and donned a new set of
clothing, and then returned to the bed to rest. It was lumpy and hard, the
mattress thin and worn. The planks of wood holding it up sagged in the middle
and the pillow Rowan placed behind his back was stiff like a rock. Still, it
felt good to be able to relax, to give his body a rest, so he enjoyed the time
that he had to himself. After days of travelling, his body was in dire need of
rest. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He thought of his brother
and his father, wondering how they were doing without him. The thought of his
family made his chest ache but he pushed aside the pain. He was sad to be gone,
he could not deny it. But he could not go back, and wouldn’t even if he could.
He was not ready to return. He would be ready someday, but not for a long time.

Despite his
exhaustion and his aches, Rowan felt compelled to do something. He retrieved
his book from his pack. Rowan opened the text and read, as he had many times
before, but he found that he could not lose himself within the words as once he
had. For years they had been his escape, his link to a foreign world that he
wished to be a part of. Now that he was gone, the words had lost some of their
magic. He replaced the book and paced the room restlessly. It was beginning to
feel cramped. Opening the window let in some air that, while not fresh, was at
least not stale. What little he could see of the city called out to him. Voices
sounded from the streets, smells wafted up through the air, some pleasant and
others less so. Rowan felt a sudden yearning to go exploring. His earlier
experience had been rather poor, but the allure of a true city was too great to
ignore just because it was crowded.

He
locked the door to the room behind him as he left. He received several glances
as walked down the stairs and left the Cloak & Dagger the way he had
entered with Baird.

Inside
the tavern it had been dark and quiet, but outside the sun shone down on Rowan
and the city came alive. There was little that interested him nearby, and he
found the smell difficult to stomach. It reeked of many things that could not
be washed away. But as he wandered the streets and began to make his way into
the heart of the city, the stench lessened and the crowds grew.

Rowan
navigated his way through the crowds, taking in the sights and the sounds and
the smells, viewing the different stalls that vendors had set up along the
sides of the streets and in the squares, interacting with a people and a
culture that was new to him.

The
entire city seemed alive and active. Everywhere Rowan went there were shops and
crowds and vendors who would shout at him, trying to get him to buy something.
There were people in the alleys begging for change. Rowan tossed a few coins to
the first beggar that he saw, a young woman with only three limbs. Other
beggars quickly tried to take the coins and after a short scuffle, the woman
still held one of the coins but wore several bruises.

Rowan
avoided spending his money, but he could not help allowing the occasional
shopkeeper the chance to show him their wares and try to persuade him to buy
something.

A lesson
Rowan learned quickly was that he had to be careful with his money. His
previous experience had taught him to keep a hand on his purse, but there were
other ways that one could lose money. A vendor who was very domineering and
persuasive convinced Rowan, against his better judgment, to buy a miniature
knife. Soon afterwards, the handle cracked in half and Rowan dropped the blade.
It fell to the ground and chipped in several places, making it useless. Rowan
had returned to the vendor and tried to return it, explaining that it had
broken and he wanted his money back, but the man wouldn’t have it. After much
persistence and arguing, Rowan had tossed the blade to the ground and walked
away, ignoring the shouts of the vendor.

Handling
money was not the only thing he found himself ignorant of. There were many
customs that he was unaware of. Some did not want their wares to be touched or
tested, only examined from a distance. Rowan learned this when he stopped at a
large tent to examine some sort of stringed instrument, much like a small harp,
that had caught his eye. Intrigued, he had picked it up and was about to pluck
one of its strings when the owner noticed and came running over. The man had
grimaced but said nothing until he found out that Rowan was just looking, at
which point he snatched the instrument back and delicately returned it to its
stand. Rowan had made a second mistake by staying, for which he was hustled
away, learning several new curses and an intriguing gesture involving two
fingers and a flick of the wrist. Had it not been directed at him by a very
angry man, he might have found it amusing.