Old News and Late Customers
I dug on my bowl as I considered his words and Uti’s earlier remark. It didn’t make sense. No taxmen didn’t necessarily mean more commerce. And if that were the case, it also didn’t mean workers would charge less for their services. But here they were, celebrating, spending.
What does it mean for tomorrow, when the taxmen came back?
“Makes a man wish the Guild of Nights still existed.” Sighed Uti.
“What? The fairy tale crafted by folks like ye an’ me to make us feel better about bein’ robbed?” queried Litoc, “Punish the evildoer, set thin’s right, all is good in the world again!”
“You know it’s true. Got rid of that belligerent prince didn’t they?”
“What? Prince Erdimal? Wherever have ye gotten that story?”
“Was all the talk back then at the capital and some surrounding towns and villages some… how long has it been?”
“Fifteen some years, I reckon,” answered Nemai.
“An’ ye would still ‘ave been a babe,” quipped Litoc.
“Nineteen or so,” Uti pointed, “was still travelling with my father then. Word was, the prince had an appetite for trouble since he was but a boy. Grew bigger as he grew, his appetite. Finally got into some-”
“I heard about this,” interrupted Urdun, “figured it was all talk. Like ghosts and spirits.”
“You better believe it.”
“Wait, you mean to tell me, that a group of – whatever you call them, whom no one’s ever heard from personally, somehow was able to sneak into the palace, and vanish a heavily guarded prince?” Medlan challenged.
“Vanish? Not kill?” I asked.
“’Swhat people like this one ‘ere’ll ‘ave ye believe.”
“How’d you explain it then? The king even put a bounty on who ever could provide them information about the prince’s whereabouts.”
“I reckon ‘e died. Contracted some disease or somethin’. Whole story’s made up. Give it a touch o’ mystery. Make people like ye an’ me feel fer them, like we don’t ‘ave problems o’ our own.”
“I believe they vanished him, the prince,” quipped Nemai, “there were stories about his own attendants not being able to find any trace of him. Went to his room one night, wasn’t there in the morning.”
“Explains the search and the big reward they put up,” agreed Uti.
“Ha,” Nemai nodded, “besides, he was the only child, wasn’t he?”
“True. ‘Swhat I ‘eard. An’ now the kin’s nephew stands to inherit the throne, should ‘e croak.”
“Such a man the king is, if it were true. What they say, I mean.” commented Urdun.
“Meaning what?” Uti asked.
“Word is, they searched the whole kingdom for bastards. You’ve heard of it, I’m sure. Never found one.”
I found it hard to believe but kept quiet.
“Or he’s good at disposing of them,” Nemai joked.
“Yer an idiot. Havin’ basterds is the greatest thing in the world to ‘ave if yer a king. Not fer the basterd, but fer the king? Certainly.”
“How is having bastards good for the king? It’s scandalous, a blow to the queen, it’s bad for the-”
Uti’s words hung unfinished. My ears perked up noticing how silent the entire mess hall had become. I raised my gaze to look at him and found his eyes nailed at something towards the stairs. Medlan’s and Litoc’s eyes were fixed there too. I became aware of silent footfalls as Urdun, Nemai and I turned to see who it was.
~0~
There is a time when you see, hear, smell, or just experience something new, and you can’t quite put it at the moment but you just know. Everything around you seems vibrant. The colors pop. You hear every little sound. And time slows down. It’s beautiful beyond words.
It was nothing like that. Except the time slowing down part. As I wheeled around to see what my company was staring at, I became aware of the marked decline in chatter in the whole mess hall. Just emerging from the stairs was the woman.
Does everyone know?
She carried a wooden tray with a bowl and a mug in it. As her eyes came into view, I noticed how sharp a gaze she had, sweeping the room, as if assessing, sizing up everyone in it. She wore a grey, loose-fitting house coat that was cut at the shoulder. It was either Shan’s or one of the few I was able to buy for her and the children.
The woman stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gave the area another sweep and walked towards the counter. There was a stiffness to her movement but not in an injured kind of way. She looked like she measured every step, like a cat with its hackles raised about to attack. Or maybe it was just me, on account of being pounded to a pulp by this very woman.
Bira peered through the opening to the kitchen and giddily approached the woman raising her arms up.
“I’ll take that.” Said the child, smiling ear to ear. The woman’s eyes rested on Bira for a moment, and I could be imagining things, but her expression softened just a bit as she handed the tray over. The kid went back to the kitchen and the woman stood there inspecting the patrons of the inn.
I froze. When her eyes fell on me. When our eyes met. I froze. She stared at me with an intensity I have not experienced ever, in this life or the other. The woman wasn’t scowling, her expression was blank. And yet there was a strength to it that as she tilted her head slightly to the side, I was feeling the urge to melt away.
She gave her right wrist an inward flick and closed her fist in one smooth motion. The sound of her knuckles cracking was audible enough to be heard where I was. When she moved again, certain that she would approach, I withered from fear. Bolts of electricity coursing through my spine the entire time.
But she didn’t. She turned and went back up the stairs.
~0~
Silence remained in her wake. Only when she was completely out of view did chatter pick up. Our table remained quiet for a while longer as we gorged down what remained of our bowls. Small talk resumed as they began slicing up parts of the roasted leg while they drank. Not a word was spoken about the woman who, by just appearing, silenced a room.
Everybody knows.
I could not decide on how to feel about it. It was not intentional, I hoped. I could not fault her for that. On the other hand, I was thoroughly beaten. No contest. Why? I could only guess. Where did that leave me?
I left the table to attend to my chores as soon as my bowl was empty while the group stayed on to drink. There was very little of note that transpired for the rest of the night. Well, except one.
While I shared another meal, with the siblings this time, late in the night, making sure they were caught up with their lessons, a man entered the inn. Immediately, one could tell he was not a local. He had on a wide-brimmed hat, similar to what the fishermen wore but with a shorter brim. His trousers and shirt were of the same color, but he had leather layered above the shirt. A knife decorated each side. I had no trouble imagining he had more weapons in his person.
That was enough to give it away, that he was not from Osea. But none of those put him more out of place than his coat. The man had on, a coat. In Osea, where the weather only switched between stinging heat and rain during days and humid at night.
He called out for a mug of ale. Shan called out to Fraku and Fraku served. This was not uncommon. Fraku served customers later in the night. What stood out was that Fraku stayed and conversed with the man, in animated ways but in low tones, until the man made his exit.
He left an esteris for a mug of ale.