Forgotten Soldiers (24 page)

Ah, the crux of the situation. “I was.”

“There are stories about—”

“So, I’ve heard. Most are completely inaccurate.”

“Regardless. If someone saw me doing work for you it might impact my business.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for my son.” I pulled Zadok forward. “Look, I just got back to town and I learn that my boy’s got nothing for his feet. I know you’ve been outside recently. The air’s getting colder and unless he gets something to wear by the time the first snow hits, he’s liable to start losing toes. I can’t let that happen. You don’t want to be seen with me. Then I’ll leave out back once we’re done here. But first, you need to size him up and promise me his boots will be ready by the end of the day. How much do you charge for something like that?”

He told me the number.

I blinked. No way it cost that much for boots. But I didn’t have time to argue and I could see he was going to be hardnosed about it. I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to strike him. I knew that wouldn’t get me or Zadok anywhere.

“Fine.”

I walked over, counted out the money from my pouch and set it on the counter. My pouch was getting light far too quickly.

He counted the money, meticulously examining each coin for authenticity. I began to wonder if he was in the wrong profession. Moneylender seemed more apt considering his scrutiny.

“We have a deal?”

He paused for a moment, thinking. “Have your son sit there,” he said pointing to a chair. The man walked over and locked the door. After that he hurried over to Zadok, squatted, and grabbed a foot. He scrunched his nose. “A bath might do him some good,” he offered.

“No doubt,” I said, trying to make light of the comment rather than let the cobbler’s rudeness get under my skin. “But one step at a time.”

The cobbler measured Zadok’s feet, then had him stand to determine where he placed most of his weight.

He scribbled notes quickly, calling out without looking up. “Come to the back door after sunset. I’ll have the shoes ready for you then.”

“We’ll be there. C’mon Zadok, let’s go.”

The man got up and walked to the back of his shop. “Follow me.”

He peered out the window of the back door. When satisfied, he opened it quickly. “Make sure you’re here on time. I won’t wait around.”

“We’ll be here.” I held out my hand, hoping to end on good terms. “I’m Tyrus.”

He looked at my hand, but refused to take it. “If anyone else from town is with you or sees you come, then the shoes stay with me. I can’t take any more chances.”

He slammed the door, leaving us out in the alley.

“This isn’t what I expected at all,” I muttered.

Zadok said nothing.

“C’mon, let’s go see if your sister is ready.”

We got back to Sivan’s and Myra was sitting in the only chair, waiting. Damaris was in the back, but came out at the jingle of the bell on the door.

I requested to have their clothes ready by the evening as well. After the cobbler, I expected a battle or at least some extra fee tacked on for such a request. However, Damaris surprised me.

“That won’t be a problem. My father is already working on Zadok’s trousers now. I only ask that you allow a little extra time when you return for the final fitting. You can pay for the clothes then.”

I smiled, genuinely. .“Thank you.”

It was nice to be treated with some sense of courtesy. I had almost forgotten what that was like.

On the street, Zadok asked. “Where to next, Pa?”

“The blacksmith.”

“Why there? You need some work on your sword?”

“Not exactly.” I turned to Myra. “Is Joram still running the smithy?”

She shook her head. “No. His place burned down when one of his apprentices got careless. I don’t know the new smith’s name, but he’s over on the corner, there,” she said, pointing.

It looked nothing like old Joram’s place. Twice as large with two chimneys, each billowing smoke. A large sign painted with a hammer and anvil hung over the wide, open door capable of fitting a horse and carriage.

I sighed. Had anything not changed?

The rhythmic banging, clanging, and pounding of hammer and anvil served as the backdrop to my conversation with the new blacksmith at a table in the middle of his shop. I allowed Myra and Zadok to wait outside rather than suffer through the heat.

Sered went about five and a half feet. However, what he lacked in height Sered made up for elsewhere. His sleeveless, leather apron exposed thick arms, neck and shoulders bulging with rope-like cords of muscles. Shaking his hand felt like trying to squeeze a wooden beam.

“My apprentice said you’re looking for a sword.” He nodded to the youngest of three boys running around the place, busy with various duties. He stoked the forge and a wave of heat pressed against my face.

“I am. Two if possible.”

He gestured to my waist. “Something wrong with the one you have?”

“No. I’m actually looking to give something to my children. We’re about to do some traveling and it would make sense to give them something for protection. I’m not looking for anything special, something more workmanlike. Needs to be light with good balance since I don’t think either have used one before and I don’t want them hurting themselves.”

He grunted, still studying the hilt and scabbard of my sword. He gestured to one of my daggers. “Those markings look familiar. Where were your blades made?”

I frowned. It seemed odd for a business owner to be more concerned with what a potential customer already owned rather than what the person was willing to buy. “Might I ask why?”

“The markings on the hilt look like something you might see out of Hol.” He grunted. “High quality, but cheap. A common choice among those in the military.” He met my eyes. “You served?”

I smiled, trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible. I was not ashamed of my time in the army, but it seemed like most people took issue with it. I wanted to come across as friendly as possible in the hopes it would contradict any of the rumors he had heard over the years.

“I just got back home yesterday, actually. Denu Creek is where I grew up.”

Sered stared without emotion. My smile faded as he worked his jaw, like he was reaching a conclusion he didn’t like.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said.

“What about the swords?”

“I don’t have any for sale.”

I glanced over to more than a dozen laid across a table on the right. “And those?”

“Spoken for.”

“What about a couple of good daggers?” I asked.

His brow furrowed. “I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t. It wouldn’t be good for business if word got out that I helped someone like you.”

“You mean a soldier?”

He nodded.

“And why is that?”

He paused, fighting with what to tell me. “I can’t get into the details.”

I scowled, voice rising in frustration. “Why? Tell me, and we can talk through this.”

Sered shook his head. His hand slowly drifted to the hammer laying across his anvil. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t. I think you should leave.”

Despite Sered’s obvious strength, I wasn’t intimidated. Still, that was no reason to get into a fight.

I walked away without responding, heading for the exit.

Once outside, Zadok asked, “Did you get what you needed?”

I shook my head, noticing Myra’s furrowed brow as she stared into the smithy. “What’s wrong?”

She faced me. “Nothing.”

I followed her gaze, seeing that the apprentices had been staring back at her with a mix of lust and disdain. They looked away as I met their eyes with a sergeant’s gaze.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s go. We still have several more places to try before we circle back to Sivan’s.”

* * *

“Why in the name of the Molak not?” I yelled at the town physician.

The bristled old man gave me the stink eye while standing with arms crossed. He jutted his cleanly shaven chin out with arrogance which made it tempting to slap that chin right off. A lesser man might have.

“This is my business and I can choose to do business with whomever I desire,” the physician said.

I was in his place seeking some herbs or potions to take on the road in case we got into trouble. I had tried the local apothecary first, but the owner never opened for the day. I learned that he was going through some nasty sickness and couldn’t make it in. Not sure how highly that spoke of the man’s work that he hadn’t known how to cure his own ailments.

“But you know nothing about me. You haven’t asked me anything.”

“I don’t need to ask you anything. I can see what you’re about and I don’t want your kind in my town.”

“This is my town too! I grew up and lived here for over twenty years before being pressed into service. My family ran a farm for three generations just down the road. I’ve got more of a claim to this town than you or half of the other people who are here now!”

“Maybe you did at one point, but not anymore. This place has changed. This town is no longer yours. It’s ours, and we don’t want your kind here.”

I kicked a chair across the room in anger. “My kind?”

“Yes. The kind of person who burns the countryside so families starve. The kind of person who rapes women and kills children.”

It was the same story once again.

I wanted to explain all that I had before to the old man, but I knew I’d be wasting my breath. People like him didn’t understand. They liked to believe that if everyone adopted their moral insights the world would be a better place. They would never understand the world just didn’t work that way.

In fact, it never had.

The world would be a better place without violence. The problem was that it was hard enough for only two people to agree on all points. Asking an entire population spanning countries, cultures, and religions to find common ground was, in many ways, a fairytale of the highest order.

I left the physician’s shop, trying to find a positive to take with me from the encounter.

There wasn’t one.

Shouting greeted me as I stepped outside. At first I thought they were directed at me. Then I saw they belonged to a handful of young kids a short distance from my children. Myra and Zadok had drifted off down the street, going against my instructions to stay where I left them.

Zadok said something to the group, acting like he was going to take them all on despite being outmatched and outsized. I admired his guts, but not his thinking. Myra looked visibly upset, but did the right thing in trying to separate herself and Zadok from the others, one eye always watching their movements.

I started walking toward them, at first thinking the situation stemmed from kids just being kids.

“Better watch out for him,” one said, mocking Zadok. “Father’s a baby-killer they say. Gods know what that makes him.”

“He’s not a baby-killer,” said Zadok. “He’s a hero!”

They laughed.

“Look at them. They’re both trash, just like their ma,” said another. Spit flew from his mouth with the insult.

“Hey!” I boomed, picking up my pace as I stormed toward them.

They wheeled, didn’t like what they saw in my eyes, and spouted curses as they took off—all before I could add anything. It was probably for the best. I was so hot I would have either made a fool of myself or done something I would have later regretted.

I turned to Myra. “What happened? Why weren’t you by the door where I asked you to stay?”

She turned away without answering.

“It was my fault, Pa,” said Zadok, jumping into my line of sight. “They asked me if I wanted to play a game of dice. But it was a joke. Myra was trying to bring me back when you came out.”

I tilted my head in the direction the kids ran off. “Does that sort of stuff happen a lot?”

“Well, we hardly ever come to town anymore since Ma died.”

“But when you do?”

“Yeah, mostly.”

“And what do you normally do when that happens?”

He shrugged. “Walk away if we can. But sometimes we can’t. So, I talk back.”

“And you fight too?”

“I try, but I’m not very good at it. I haven’t won one yet.”

I thought about those five boys, all older and stronger. “Against those odds I’m not surprised.” I looked to Myra. “Is this all true?”

“What?” she snapped. “That everyone treats us like dogs? Of course it is. The choices you and Ma made aren’t exactly ones people would approve of. Why do you think I don’t want to stay here? Even for another day.”

I noticed she had dodged my question, but given the venom spat at me, I decided to ignore it. It really didn’t matter what had caused the confrontation with the boys anyway.

I scanned the town, three quarters of it unlike anything I remembered and most of it populated by individuals I didn’t know and had no love for. Most of the people I knew in my youth had either joined the army and died, gotten old and died, or just moved away. Even then, they weren’t without fault. Ava’s complaints of her childhood came to mind.