David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

“Draw no blades, or you can sleep outside the walls tonight,” the guard shouted. Torgar stood to his full height so that the guard’s eyes only came up to his neck.

“Hope you brought friends,” Torgar said, but his grin was playful.

“Enough, Torgar,” said Laurie, following in his wake. He glanced about nervously, disliking such close quarters with the unwashed rabble. “Are you in charge of the gates here?”

“Just helping,” the guard said. “Listen, if you’re in a hurry, you’ll still have to wait just like everyone else.”

“I’m not like anyone else, and I will not wait like anyone else,” Laurie said. He turned and pointed at the massive caravan of horses, wagons, and carts in the distance, billowing dust to the sky. “Those are mine.”

“Damn, never can catch a break,” the guard said. “Which ones are yours?”

“All of them.”

The guard paled, and he seemed to look at Laurie with newly opened eyes. For a moment, he chewed his lip, and then the connection hit him.

“Lord Keenan?” he asked. “Oh shit on me, I’m sorry milord. I’ve a half-dozen merchants all pretending to own Dezrel, and I figured you just another…”

“That’s fine,” Laurie said, interrupting him. “What is your name, soldier?”

“Jess. Jess Brown, milord.”

“Well, Jess, before I bring my convoy through the gate, I’d like to know what is going on. I take it there is some sort of tax or toll?”

“There is,” Jess said, glancing once at Torgar. “Though you might not like it. King Vaelor, Ashhur bless his name, passed the laws not two days ago. There’s some fines involving mercenaries, which you’ll learn about soon enough. The short of it is taxes, though, on all goods and services traveling into the city.”

“On all goods?” said Laurie. He grabbed his long green cloak and wrapped it tighter around his shoulders, as if a bit of his heat had escaped him. “What nonsense. Tell me the taxes.”

Jess did. As he ran through a memorized list, Laurie’s face turned darker and darker. With each item of food, cloth, servant, or animal, he counted, checked against his own stores, and accumulated a total. By the time Jess was done, Laurie’s neck had turned a deep crimson.

“All this due just to enter?” Laurie asked, his quiet voice poorly hiding his anger.

“Forgive me, milord,” said Jess. “Gerand Crold has been most insistent about enforcement. He’s ordered any man caught turning a blind eye or accepting a bribe to be strung up from the wall by his thumbs and left to the ravens.”

“I can’t blame you for your orders, nor for enforcing them with such threats hanging over your head,” Laurie said. He took out a single silver coin and handed it to Torgar, who then passed it on to the soldier.

“Thank you, milord. You are most generous.”

“And thank you for your time,” Laurie said. With a quick nod to Torgar, the two pushed their way out of the crowd and back to their horses.

“The thieves must have gotten to the king,” Laurie said as he mounted his horse. “Either that or his advisor, Crold.”

“More likely the advisor,” Torgar said. “He’s been around awhile, if my meager memory serves me well. How many kings has he seen die? Probably views himself as one. Might not be the thieves involved, either, just greedy hearts knowing you was coming.”

As they rode back toward their caravan, Torgar raised an eyebrow at his master.

“So…how much did it all come to, anyway?”

“Twenty times the normal fare,” Laurie said with a sigh. “I know you’re not the best with big numbers, so let me keep it simple. I’d be paying an entire month’s worth of income just to walk through their bloody gate.”

“Huh,” Torgar said, guiding his horse around a giant rut in the road. “Almost makes you think twice about entering, eh?”

Laurie stopped his horse. Torgar slowed his own and then looped around, his hand on his sword.

“Something amiss?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Laurie said. “But what you said, it might make a bit of sense. Look there, at the two hills we just rode beside. Couldn’t we set up camp on their peaks?”

Torgar scratched the stubble on his jaw, thinking.

“Could put yours and Madelyn’s things on the big hill, surround the lower parts with the wagons so it’ll be easier to guard. Wouldn’t be too tough to put our men in the gaps. That smaller hill could be for your servants and soldiers, ring the lower parts with tents and then build fires at the top.”

“Could you guard it as well as you could our estate?” Laurie asked.

“As well?” Torgar asked. “Course not. Your mansion’s got spiked fences and more traps than even I know about. Out here we’ll have men and wagons. Wagons can be climbed, burned, and cut through. Men can be bought, confused, and killed. But if you’re asking if you think anything could happen out here, I say no. With as many men we’ll have ringing the camp, you’ll be safer than the king.”

“Come then,” Laurie said. “Let us tell my wife and son.”

They rode into the caravan, which had slowed considerably in speed. Apparently the drivers at the front, having seen Lord Keenan ride off to the gate, cut their pace to ensure they didn’t arrive before Laurie returned. The two weaved through the chaos until they reached the largest of the covered wagons, pulled by six gray oxen.

“I heard you left for the gate,” Madelyn Keenan said from her cushioned seat in the back. She wore what she considered an outfit designed for travel: a tightly fitting dress, high-cut with a long V across the front. The outfit exposed her slender legs, which she had stretched out from underneath the tarp in hopes of getting what little sun she could before winter arrived in fullest, along with its dim light and numerous clouds. She’d tied her brown hair into a ponytail so long that it wrapped twice about her waist before clipping into her silver-leafed belt.

Torgar had long ago learned that an errant whistle could cost him half his month’s pay, but still he felt tempted when he saw her.

“The king, may Karak curse his name, imposed a outrageously high tax on all goods entering the city,” Laurie said as he accepted his wife’s outstretched hand and kissed her fingers. “So it appears we must camp outside the walls.”

“Must we?” asked Madelyn. “You’ll deny us a roof over our heads all for a silly tax? Bribe the guards and get us through. I’ve heard quite enough of the serving girls bitching about the bumpy trip. I don’t want to imagine how they’ll whine about this.”

“Guards won’t take bribes,” Torgar said. “King’s riding them hard on this one. And if it is a roof you want, milady, we have more than enough tents for that. We’ll erect you a fine pavilion to call your own.”

Madelyn rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her husband. She’d never liked the smelly sellsword, especially the way he looked at her. When it came to dress, attitude, and words, she knew how to drive men wild, and in doing so, control them. When it came to Torgar, though, she never felt that control. Instead, she felt like he was the one ready to dominate her, status and repercussions be damned.

“What about Maynard and that fat Connington fellow?” she asked. “Will they bring their wealth out of the walls to join us here in the wild?”

“We’re within spitting distance of the walls,” Torgar said. “This ain’t the wild, woman.”

“Remember what I said about your tongue and the ravens?” asked Laurie. “Think on that for awhile, and leave me be with my wife. Oh, and find Taras. He’s probably getting friendly with the camp followers.”

“As you wish,” Torgar said with an over-exaggerated bow.