The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag (12 page)

Scar spotted them and discreetly directed Potbelly’s attention that way.

“Think they’re Garrock’s men?” Potbelly asked.

“Maybe.”

Their serving girl plopped two mugs of ale on the table before them. “That’s a half silver,” she said. “The rest will be out shortly.”

“Could you help us with something?”

She turned to Potbelly who held out another silver. “If it’s a roll in the hay, you might want to find another.”

He shook his head. “No, that is not what we want.”

Eyeing the silver, she asked, “Then, what?”

“Information.”

“About what?”

Potbelly gestured with a nod of his head toward the two men. “They’ve been staring at us since we arrived. Are they locals?”

She cast a quick look then shook her head. “No. I think they arrived a day or so ago. Been here since sunup.”

“Just sitting there?” Scar asked.

“Yes.”

Potbelly handed her the silver. “If you find out more about them, there will be another silver in it for you. They may be dangerous so be careful.”

Pocketing the coin, she turned and headed back to the kitchen.

“Has to be Garrock’s men,” Scar said.

“How do you want to play this?”

Their serving girl appeared from the kitchen with a platter of food and headed their way.

“Eat first, then we’ll try to draw them out.”

The meat was still asizzlin’ on the platter and after days of trail rations, it tasted oh so good.

The two men remained in the common room throughout their meal. Scar wondered if perhaps they were not Garrock’s men.

“Wouldn’t you think one of them would have gone for reinforcements before now?”

Potbelly shrugged. “Maybe they are unsure if we are the ones they are after and don’t want to bring Garrock’s wrath down upon them if they get him and are wrong.”

Pushing his now empty plate away, Scar gave out with a satisfied belch. “Let’s test that. I’ll leave and if one of them follows, we’ll know.”

Potbelly watched the men out of the corner of his eye as Scar got to his feet. The shorter of the two nudged the other. Both watched with unveiled interest as Scar walked toward the door. The taller of the two hurriedly got to his feet and followed.

“Here we go…” Potbelly said.

Outside the inn, Scar walked down the street for a ways then, “accidentally” dropped his coin purse. Bending over to pick it up, he caught sight of the man following him. He slipped the pouch into his shirt then continued down the road. Spying a wooded area steeped in shadow up ahead on the right, he turned toward it.

He entered the copse of trees and once cloaked by the shadows, quickened his pace. Then he ducked behind a tree and waited.

A moment later, the man appeared headed for the trees. He only paused a moment as he looked into the shadows before hurrying forward.

Scar tensed and when the man began to pass by leapt from behind the tree. Slamming his shoulder into the man, he knocked him off-balance and thrust him against the tree opposite them. A knee to the gut and a blow to the head sent the man sprawling to the dirt. Instantly, Scar was on him.

Scar put a knee in his back, grabbed his hair and pulled the man’s head back. The man fought until he felt the blade of Scar’s dagger pressed against his throat.

“Who are you?” Scar demanded. When the man didn’t say, he pressed his blade against the larynx. The man gasped, “Wait!” he felt a drop of blood well forth and course down his throat.

“Are you one of Garrock’s men?”

“Yes,” he gasped.

Scar relaxed his grip on the man’s hair allowing him to breathe and speak easier.

“How many does he have in Cara?”

“Twenty.”

A man and woman walked by just outside the shaded area. Scar said, “Shhh,” as they passed and pressed the blade once again against the man’s throat as they waited. When the couple entered the nearest building, he relaxed his grip and pulled the knife back a ways.

“What are his plans concerning us?”

“Kill you both,” the man replied. “And take the treasure for himself.”

“Treasure?” queried Scar. “How does he know about that?”

“Tork told us right after you two escaped.”

“Curse that old man,” Scar spat. “I’ll settle him later.”

“Did he tell Garrock about the man we are to meet?”

“No.”

Scar pulled the head back and again pressed the knife against the man’s throat.
“Did he?”

“No!” the man cried. “I swear it.”

Relaxing his grip on the man’s head, Scar let his knife fall a short ways away so it no longer rested against the man’s throat.

“Where is Garrock?”

“He’s staying at the
Cask and Candle
.”

“Thank you,” Scar said. “But I can’t let him know we are here.” Grabbing the man’s hair, he pulled the man’s head back and with a quick slice of his sword, ended his life. “At least not yet.”

Potbelly drank ale, flirted with the barmaid, and had a test of strength with another patron, all the while keeping an eye on the remaining man. When Scar didn’t return after his third ale, he grew worried. But then midway through his fourth, Scar caught his attention from near the door at the back side of the common area.

He gestured for Potbelly to leave through the back door.

Nodding surreptitiously, he downed his ale, stood and stretched, then leisurely made his way from the common room and out the door.

Scar stood pressed against the wall next to the door. “Head around the stable to the back,” he whispered when Potbelly emerged.

“Got it.”

Without missing a step, Potbelly continued across the courtyard. A few moments later, the other man passed through the doorway.

Scar waited for the man to follow Potbelly then fell in behind.

Potbelly angled to the right and walked around the side of the stable. The man hurried forward with Scar silently following behind.

Scar must have made some sound for just as the man reached the corner of the stable, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. Scar was on him in an instant; a punch to the throat and another to the midsection doubled him over and kept him quiet.

Potbelly rushed back and dragged the man around the side of the stable and away from the view of any in the courtyard.

Glancing around, Scar saw that their nocturnal activities had gone unnoticed, he hurried after.

“Garrock’s man?” Potbelly asked.

“Yes.”

“Where’s the other one?”

“He won’t bother us again.”

Potbelly gestured to the man between them.  “And him?”

“They plan to kill us,” Scar replied. “Either we take care of him now or we fight him later.”

“I won’t,” the man gasped as his diaphragm started functioning again. He turned on his back and looked up at them. “I swear it!”

“Sorry,” Scar said. “We can’t take that chance.”

The man’s cry was cut short. They dragged the body off into the woods and dumped him among a thick section of undergrowth

“There are twenty, make that eighteen men with Garrock,” Scar said.

They returned to the courtyard. Not seeing anyone, they entered the stable and made ready to travel.

“Garrock is staying at an inn called
The
Cask and Candle.
” He leaned in close to Potbelly as he whispered, “He knows about the treasure.”

“How?”

Scar spat, “Tork.”

“Damn him.”

“Probably sold us out to save his own neck.”

“I don’t know,” Potbelly said, “Garrock and his men seemed pretty hesitant to take him on.”

“Then why tell him?”

“I don’t know.” Horse saddled, Scar mounted. “And I don’t care. We’re going to find Matlin, get the map, and track down the treasure. If Garrock or his men get in our way, we leave them for the buzzards.”

Potbelly swung into the saddle and they headed down the darkened road toward the lights of Cara.

Halfway between the inn and Cara, buildings began dotting the road. First was a rundown tavern that looked like it had been constructed with material salvaged from the remains of many different buildings. The men standing in the area were a seedy lot and not the sort they felt inclined to seek help from in searching for Matlin.

They knew that among those lining the road had to be one of Garrock’s men. Which one was nearly impossible to tell. Nearly all watched them as they passed, more than half continued casting glances their way even when they were well beyond the tavern.

Other shops appeared, an inn or two and a series of five well-constructed buildings housing a wide variety of buxom young ladies ready to entertain those with sufficient coins. Scar eyed the women longingly but knew now was not the time for a dalliance.

Closer to the gate, streets branched off from the main trade route as the buildings grew denser. Even at such a late night the area from a few blocks out to the gate was bustling with activity.

Hawkers called out to those passing by, some would have hands full of wares and come right up to the riders. One man with strings of necklaces planted himself in front of Scar and practically demanded Scar buy one or he wouldn’t move. Scar kicked his horse, it lurched forward and the man dove out of the way; necklaces went flying. Curses and vows of retribution followed them as they entered the area before the gate.

The gate area was awash with light. Poles with oil lamps held back the shadows along the two roads merging at the gate area. A squad of uniformed soldiers stood guard at the gate; a wagon being drawn by two horses was currently being inspected.

Before they entered the area illuminated by the lamps, Scar motioned for them to cross to an area amongst the buildings just beyond the reach of the lamplight where they could observe the gate area from the shadows.

A dozen men loitered near the gate; half looked to be beggars but a few were well armed and very alert.

“I would bet my right arm that one, if not more, is Garrock’s.”

Potbelly nodded. “Wouldn’t be surprised.”

The road merging with theirs at the gate area looked to run along the outside of the walls; along which sat many shops, inns and taverns.

“Might be a tavern along that outer road,” suggested Potbelly, “that Matlin may frequent when he comes out of the hills.”

“Perhaps.” He gazed at the men standing by the gate, saw how they scrutinized everyone that entered. “It’s as good a place to start as any.”

Keeping to the shadows, they worked their way through back alleys and between buildings until they reached the outer road. Not far down they came to a tavern that looked respectable. There was light music coming from it and a couple leaving was well dressed and had the air of money.

“I’ll try here,” Scar said. “Stay with the horses.”

“You got it.”

Scar dismounted and walked to the front door. Just as he was about to enter, it opened and a dandy of a man passed through. The man eyed Scar from head to toe, sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose before hurrying on his way. For some reason, Scar felt a strong desire to hit him. But his mission overrode such desires.

Tavern was not quite the best description for what met him on the other side of the door. People dressed in their finest sat at tables covered in white linen. Instead of mugs and bottles, teapots and teacups decorated tabletops. A man dressed in clothes that must have cost more coins than Scar could hope to see in a year came up to him.

“Yes?” the man asked, looking down his nose at Scar. “Can I help you?” The distaste he felt at being in Scar’s presence was very apparent. So apparent that Scar felt like giving him something to really dislike, but he refrained.

“I am looking for a friend of mine that lives in the area,” he said. “His name is Matlin and he lives up in the mountains near here. Would you know him?”

“No,” the man said. “I am afraid I have not had the…uh…pleasure.”

“Do you have a problem?” Scar asked, his nature getting the better of him.

“No, sir,” the man said. “There is no problem.” His tone belied that, inferring that there was indeed a big problem and that Scar should be going.

His irritation blossomed into full blown anger. He clenched his fist and was about ready to lay this guy low, when two elderly women entered through the door. Not wanting to cause a ruckus in front of them, he unclenched his fist, glanced to the tea room and an alternative idea formed. He spun on his heel and walked by the ladies and out the door.

“Did you find out…?” Potbelly began then saw the set of Scar’s jaw. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Scar replied as he walked to his horse and gathered his travel bag. “Let’s have some tea.”