Jeff Salyards - Scourge of the Betrayer

I was about to ask another question when I heard Jebaneeza. Lloi and I walked around to the front of the wagon.

She was standing before Braylar. “The wagon is empty. And now what will you do with us, you, you… brigand? That is what you are, you know? A cowardly thief, to attack defenseless pilgrims like this.”

Braylar laid the crossbow across his lap. “I suggest you defend yourself on your next pilgrimage. As I said, you’ll soon be on your way. Tell one of your men over there to assist my fellow brigands in loading our goods in your wagon. We’ll swap horses as well. Then we’ll be on our way. You’ll have your two wagons, we’ll have one, and we’ll all happily move off in the opposite direction. Is this clear?”

Jebaneeza’s eyes narrowed, and she pointed a fat finger at Braylar. “I’ll report you. I hope you know that. I’ll report you to the first border patrol the very first chance I get. We won’t be going to the shrine, we’ll be going straight to the authorities now.”

“Shame about your shrine. Such a fine day for zealotry. But before you go running off to vent your outrage and cry for justice, you should know that Hornmen are already looking for this very wagon. Apparently they’re under the impression that the owners are responsible for the deaths of one or two of their agents. Possibly more, I don’t know. It might be a dangerous thing indeed to ride this wagon into any populated area, particularly one populated by border soldiers. In fact, were I riding in such a wagon, I’d rid myself of it as soon as possible, and by any means necessary. Such a wagon can bring nothing but ill luck. Still, it’s yours now, and you can do with it what you will.”

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, shook her finger again, and then blurted, “If this is true, then you… you’re a murderer and a brigand!”

He shifted the crossbow on his lap, lazily almost, so that the bolt was pointing in Jebaneeza’s direction again, and said, “Now, order one of your men-and one man only-to take our supplies and load up the other wagon. My companions will assist. You can load your supplies into this one as soon as we’ve gone. Do you understand? Or do I perhaps need to draw a diagram in the dirt?”

Her face grew very flushed, and though her anger was neither frightening or intimidating, it was certainly bold. “You’re a bully, and a thief, and a self-professed murderer! And-”

“I profess nothing.”

“And when you’re captured, I hope they, I hope they…” she paused, not as if she were searching for the words, but as if she knew them and were trying to hold them back. “I hope they string you up by your neck and hang you until dead! I do! Dead, dead, dead!”

Braylar raised his eyebrows. “So uncharitable, Lady Pious. Very unbecoming. Truly.” He pointed the crossbow directly at her this time so there was no mistaking his intention. “Now load, before we add pilgrim slayer to the list, yes?”

She seemed more incensed than ever-I doubt righteous outrage could manifest itself more clearly than it did just then-but she was done protesting. She stomped back to her wagons, hips shaking thunderously, the folds of her skirts gathered up in one hand. If she had a tail it would’ve been twitching like a wet cat’s.

A few minutes later one of the other pilgrims came over to begin hauling our supplies to the other wagon. He was young, and judging by his shabby clothes, a servant of some sort. When I tried to hand him a crate, he flinched as if my hand were a poker from a fire.

Lloi and I did our best to avoid him as we all loaded the other wagon, and he returned the favor, though we stumbled across each other awkwardly more than once.

The boy only had a few trips left to make, and so I returned to sit next to Braylar. After a time, he said, “Don’t look so distraught, Arki. We’re doing only what we have to do. Nothing more.”

That was little enough consolation.

After everything was stowed to Braylar’s satisfaction, we switched the team of horses, tethered the other mounts to the new wagon, and started off, leaving a very confused and angry group of pilgrims in our wake.

While the shorter pilgrim wagon had a wooden cover, the one we’d taken wasn’t too dissimilar from the bloodied one we left behind. Aside from being slightly smaller, as Lloi had predicted, and badly in need of a new coat of paint, it had the same kind of canvas top, wooden ribs, a seat in front. The chief difference was this wagon didn’t come equipped with a covert compartment in the floor, so the long box Braylar had secreted away earlier was now sitting among the rest of the supplies, albeit covered by a blanket. I was torn between wondering what it could contain that should have caused this criminally-inclined journey, and angry with myself for caring at all.

We traveled as far as we could before daylight gave out, and then a little further besides. I assumed Braylar wanted to put as much distance between us and the scene of his latest encounter as possible, though I didn’t ask. When we finally made camp, I moved the horses off and tended to them far from his gaze, not trusting myself to hold my tongue. I slept inside, though there was less room to recline now, and Braylar and Lloi remained outside. Few words were spoken by the pair, and none by me.

The next morning, the wind picked up appreciably, and some gusts were almost violent. I dozed for a while until I felt the wagon lurch. I looked out the back flap and was startled to see we’d turned onto a road. I couldn’t believe it at first. I was beginning to think I’d never see one again. But one look out the back confirmed it.

Not long after, he ordered Lloi to ride ahead, and while she argued with him, Braylar was unmoved. “As you can see, we’re no longer in the grass. I hardly think we’re going to get lost.”

“Oh, I figure you can find your way well enough now. But that might be more cause for me to stay close. If you take my meaning.”

“It’s unlikely I’ll be killing anyone else before we reach our destination. And if it somehow proves necessary, I’ll be sure to dispatch the villains with blade or bolt, never fear.”

She didn’t respond, and I imagined her twisting, rolling, or otherwise contorting her silly cap again.

Braylar said, “As much as your tender worrying warms me through and through, the rest of the company is likely beginning to fret as well, given our tardiness. So I need you to advise them we’ll be there shortly. Ride to the inn. Now. Without objection, interjection, or renunciation of any kind. Are we clear, Lloi?”

“No need to whip me with big words, Captain Noose. I’m riding out, I’m riding out.” And so she did.

I wondered what would happen if I simply ran. Maybe Braylar wouldn’t hunt me. Though I doubt he’d allow his third archivist to wander the land with such damning information on parchment. Now that I thought about it, it was surprising he hadn’t killed more archivists.

Braylar called out to me, “Arki, please join me.”

He sounded in good spirits indeed. What a curative, robbing and threatening pilgrims in the wilderness! I planned to suggest as much next time he fell into his invisible abyss, if Lloi didn’t prove handy.

I took a seat next to him.

“I’m guessing you’re guessing about our destination again, yes?”

I didn’t respond right away.

“Ah, I’ve offended you. I’m not sure who is more to blame-you for having such delicate sensibilities or me for tearing them asunder so frequently with my indelicate action and speech.”

That must be what passed for an apology among barbarians or Syldoon. Perhaps both.

“Well, we’re nearing civilization once more, and you can be sure, I do my uttermost to be civil in such places. So put aside your sullen looks and bruised emotions. Or don’t. As ever, the choice is your own.”