Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

A moment after that worry entered Tia’s mind, Furia leapt off the platform above, executed an incredible somersault in midair, and landed on her feet beside them. She plucked a sheet of paper from the counter, took a pencil from behind her ear, and began tallying their purchases.

Wynn looked at Tia with raised eyebrows and she just shrugged. The day had been full of surprises. That was for certain. After Furia had written out their bill of sale, she handed it to Faxon.

“A pleasure meeting all of you, come again any time.” With that, she was gone, swinging up into the rafters from her line and surveying the warehouse floor for another client to assist.

Gunther hopped from crate to crate behind the counter, coming to where they were still standing, dumbstruck. He held out his hand for the bill of sale, snapping his pudgy fingers to get Faxon’s attention when he took too long.

“Best puller I’ve ever had,” he said as he perused the sheet of paper. “I told ye that ye’d be set in no time.”

“And you delivered, as always, Gunther. What’s the damage?” Faxon pulled a heavily laden purse from inside his robes. The dwarf said something in a language that sounded like a rock slide inside a bass drum. Tia was surprised to hear Faxon reply in kind.

Wynn leaned in close, whispering in her ear. “They’re dickering. Its ancient dwarven. I don’t know enough to understand all of it, but Faxon’s driving a hard bargain.”

The rumbling back-and-forth exchange continued for several minutes until the dwarf thrust out his hand and Faxon took it, pumping it three times.

“Well bargained, lad,” Gunther said with a shake of his head. “I never should have taught ye that.”

Faxon smiled. “We all have our vices, Gunther.” He took several large gold crowns from his purse and laid them on the table. From inside his robe, he added a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. The dwarf made the package disappear under the counter, then picked up the coins and slipped them in a pocket.

“A pleasure,” Gunther said with a smile. “Take care of yeself, lad. And your friends.” He moved off down the counter.

Faxon turned to Tia and Wynn. “Let’s get packed up and on the road. I want to be beyond Overwatch by nightfall.”

Faxon rooted around in the pile of supplies and produced three large travel packs of fine leather. The supplies disappeared into the packs in relatively short order and Faxon ushered them outside. As Tia hefted her pack, she wondered at how light it was and how easily it conformed to her back and shoulders. These weren’t just ordinary packs. They had to be enchanted.

There was no way the coins that Faxon had given to Gunther could have accounted for the massive amount of provisions they had purchased. Tia had been curious about what was in the paper-wrapped package before. Now she was dying of curiosity. Faxon caught her eye.

“Yes, they’re enchanted. No, I’m not telling you what was in the package. Let’s go.”

Tia sulked the entire way back to the inn, where she changed into her armor and hung her sword belt from her hips, well below the pack. Wynn traded his travel clothes for robes and they set out into the rapidly aging day.

The road leading out of Overwatch took them around the greater bulk of the city and up to the crest of a rise that was nearly as high as the upper level of the city. Looking down, it was easy to understand why the marvelous place was called Overwatch. From the upper levels of the city, especially from the highest towers that lined the cliff-side over the lower city, one could easily see the entire river valley and a good stretch of the land beyond. They passed through the city gates, which were well guarded by mercenaries, and out onto the road that led north.

They stopped at a livery just outside the city and Faxon inquired about the rate for three horses to take north. The stableman quoted a price so outrageously high that Tiadaria thought he was joking. It was just as well that she didn’t say anything, for the man was completely serious. He and Faxon settled down to the serious work of dickering for an acceptable price. When they finally came to an agreement, the sum was still more than Tiadaria could credit.

“Remember,” the hostler reminded Faxon as he led the beasts out by their reins. “They’ll take you to the Narrow Pass. No farther. They’re well trained to return here. I’ll expect them back tonight sometime.”

Faxon agreed, again, to the terms and helped Tia onto the unfamiliar mount. She missed Nightwind and the way that he knew her every command and mood. Still, any horse was better than no horse at all, even if they would only have them for the first leg of their journey. The rest would be done on foot. The first half hour or so of their departure from Overwatch was conducted in silence as the mounts and riders got acquainted.

They rode three abreast, keeping the horses at a reasonable pace, fast enough to make good time but not so fast that conversation was impossible between them.

“Are there any cities further north than Overwatch?” Wynn asked as they followed the cobbled road. Far on the horizon, they could see the snow-capped peaks of the Frozen Frontier.

“Nothing quite as large or hospitable. There are a handful of towns leading up toward the mountains, and of course the clan villages.” Faxon eyed Tiadaria and she snorted.

“I’ve heard that the clans are all savages,” Wynn said thoughtfully. Faxon chuckled and shook his head.

“I’ll show you a savage,” Tiadaria retorted, her eyes flashing.

“You were part of a clan?” Wynn’s eyes widened. His dismay was so comical that Tia couldn’t help but laugh at his expression.

“Yes. I was the Folkledre’s daughter.” She grimaced. “For all the good that did me.”

“So you were a princess?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“I don’t-”

“Let it go, Wynn.” Faxon interjected, trying to spare the young man from any further blunders on his part.

Tia looked at the quintessentialist and then back to Wynn. “My father sold me into slavery. That’s how I got this.” She slipped a finger into her collar, drawing it as far from her neck as it would go and then dropping it. “But it’s also how I met the Captain and ultimately came to the Imperium. So I’d say it was a fair trade.”

“I’m sorry,” Wynn seemed more uncomfortable than her easy retelling of her misadventure should account for. “I didn’t know. Faxon could remove that. He invented witchmetal, you know.”

“I’m going to scout ahead,” Faxon announced suddenly, and spurred his mount into a canter. He didn’t slow again until he was far ahead of them on the road.

“I know he could,” Tia answered, looking after Faxon, her expression thoughtful. “I chose to keep it.”

“You did?” Tia couldn’t tell if Wynn was impressed or horrified. Or possibly a little of both. “Why?”

“Because it reminds me of someone who meant a lot to me. Someone who taught me that what I was wasn’t all I could be.”

“The Captain?”

“Yes”

It was Wynn’s turn to look thoughtful. “Was he a rogue mage too?”

Tia went rigid so quickly that her horse whinnied in alarm. She reigned in her mount so hard that Wynn actually walked past her and had to turn his beast around to look her in the face.

“How did you know I was a rogue mage?”

“I’ve known since the first time you touched me in the inn,” he shrugged. “Every quintessentialist, apprentice or not, knows what link-shock feels like. I know you tried to cover it up, so I didn’t say anything. It’s only logical that Faxon knows, so I figured if Faxon knew and you didn’t want me to know, that was okay.”