The Call of the Crown (Book 1) (35 page)

Olshtan finished his drink and slapped the glass on the bar. “I was leaving anyway.” He stood, smiled at Elspeth, and left.

Grady picked up his drink, put it to his lips, and flicked his head back, drinking it in one short gulp. He paused at the uppermost and then slowly brought his gaze level. He stared at the barman with a puzzled frown.

The barman stood holding back a laugh. “Yes! Tis water!” he said with a howling cackle. He looked at Elspeth, then back to Grady, then back to Elspeth. Crowing wildly, he slammed his palm on the counter, seemingly most amused at his “little joke.” He took back their glasses. “I suppose you’d be wontin’ a
proper
drink,” he said. “I mean, not like you ain’t paid fur ten.” Still laughing, he brought down an old bottle from the top shelf and blew sharply at the label. Dust billowed about his face. “This’ll do, me reckons.” He filled their glasses and placed them respectfully on the counter. Then he folded his arms, apparently waiting for them to take a sip.

Elspeth and Grady looked at each other. Grady shrugged his shoulder, as if saying,
Why not?
They picked up their glasses and took a sip. The taste was wondrous, almost magical: deep, fruity, and not a bit bitter. They both raised a brow and quickly drank their whole measure. A cool effervescence filled their throats and purged their mouths of the dusty road.

“What is this?” Elspeth said.

Grady felt it, too. For the moment, his mind seemed unburdened, as though a wave of calm had come over him.

“It’s distilled
kalli. Bloody hard to find and even harder to brew. But I gotta friend wot brings it in from Bailryn. I usually keeps it for meself.”

“Well…” Grady sat down and looked approvingly at his empty glass. “That may well be worth two silver.”

“Ah. Glad ye likes it, friend. D’ya wont anuva? I’ll do these for one silver, bein’ as ye such fine folk an’ all.” The barman readied the bottle.

“Oh no, we’d love to, but we have important business and time is utmost,” Grady said.

“As ye wish,” the barman said. “Na, wot is it ye wanted?”

“Medicine, well
, herbs, I suppose, kharoe ash or liet root, enough for one. If you know where we can find some, we will be in your debt, sir,” Elspeth said.

“Well, m’lady
, not ofen I get spoke to in such a manner by such a pretty yung fing as yeself!” The barman broke his gaze and looked up to the left. “Tell ye truth, I don’t reckon it eva ‘appened.” He mused for a moment, shifting his closed jaw to the left and right as though chewing on the thought. “Nope! Pretty sure yer the first!” he said. “Any’ow, I sed I cud ‘elp ye. Cross’t road, secund last befor’t corner. T’as a blue duar and a little stature in’t winda. Calloun is the chap yule be wontin’.”

“Sir, I thank you.” Elspeth bowed. She nodded at Grady and he bowed also while rising from his seat and turning to the door.

“Don’t be a stranger now, me lass, will ya?” The barman called after them as they opened the door to leave. Elspeth turned back and gave a short curtsy and a smile.

The two left the inn and started down the road towards the corner. “He wasn’t so bad, was he? I was quite surprised, to be honest
,” Elspeth said.

“Thieves,” Grady said. “Whether it is with a knife or with kindness, they’ll get you in the end.”

Elspeth shook her head. “Is everybody like that when they get old?” she asked.

Grady laughed. “What do you mean old?”

“I mean cynical and unable to trust.”

“It’s called experience, Elspeth. Some might rightly call it wisdom!”

Grady stopped short and took Elspeth by the shoulder, pulling her to the side as he gazed behind her.

“What? What do you see?” Elspeth said, looking around in the direction of his gaze.

Grady calmed and put his hand back to his side. “Probably nothing, just an ‘old cynic’ jumping at shadows.” He gave Elspeth a wry grin as they continued in the direction the barman had given. “Thought I saw somebody watching us, probably just some nosey townsfolk.”

Elspeth looked back left and right. “I think we’ve passed the shop,” she said. “Didn’t he say blue door?”

“Hard to figure
anything
the man said. But yes, I think that’s it.”

On the face of it, the “store” had nothing on show to distinguish it from any other building. The same peeled paintwork, rotting veranda, and spider-webbed dirty windows as all the other buildings. It might have been nice once, twenty years ago, before the thieves took over the town.

They crossed the creaking veranda and entered.

It was a long
, narrow store, around seven paces by three. A shallow counter ran down the centre for its full length. The merchandise was stored behind it, hung on hooks, placed in baskets, or on a shelf, all out of the way of thieving fingers. Again, it was dark, but not so much as the bar. A usable measure of light bled in from the three small windows that were evenly spaced along the front wall. At the far end, a door led to what looked like a storeroom, and next to it, a large clock hung alone above the single chair and desk.

Calloun—the storekeeper—rose from the chair and walked over. If ever a man had tried dressing above his station, Calloun would have looked resplendent in his tasselled tunic with frilly white—off-white—cuffs draped beyond the sleeve. His high collar should
have been stiff, in the style of the Bailryn regents, but it hadn’t seen a sniff of starch, never mind ironing. Worst of all was his preposterous hair; what would have been a long ponytail swirled round and was clipped to hide an unhide-able bald patch. Despite this, he had a serious gape and a vain confidence.

“Hello, my friends. Hello,” he said as though he were expecting them. He shuffled around the back of the counter, slowly easing himself past boxes and crates that lay packed under the shelves. On reaching them, he slapped the counter softly with a loosely clenched fist. “And what can I do for you two fine people on this glorious day?”

Grady gave the shallowest of bows. “We are looking for kharoe ash and liet root.”

“Ah…
kharoe ash and liet root, aye!” he said, scratching his chin. “Somebody been in the wars, have they?” He looked wide-eyed at Grady and then Elspeth, waiting for a reply, arms now folded.

“Yes. I suppose you could say that,” Grady said. “Now, do you have any, sir? Time is not on our side.”

“Poison arrow, was it? Or is it infected, like with some bad metal or some such?” The storekeeper persisted with his questions, as though waiting, all the while stealing little glances to his right. What was he waiting for? The hairs on the back of Grady’s neck began to rise, not all the way, but something was amiss. He didn’t much like the door being at his back, either. He shuffled to his right so he could take in the storekeeper, the entrance, and the “storeroom” together.

“Sir, please! Do you have the supplies?” Elspeth said, clearly impatient and altogether mindless of Grady’s suspicions. She may be good with a bow and a fair cook, too. However, if she wasn
’t careful, that bloody impatience was going to get her killed, especially if selected for the guards. That was no game for rushing about, jumping before you look.

“B
egging your pardon, miss,” the storekeeper said. He raised his palms to Elspeth and lowered his eyes to the counter. “Only being polite, taking an interest. Now then, my partner usually deals with herb lore. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what I’m looking at. I dare say what you seek probably goes by other names.” The storekeeper scratched his chin again. “Would you know it if you saw it?”

Elspeth hesitated. “Maybe, I’m not sure.”

“Why don’t you come back and have a look? See if you can’t figure it out.” The storekeeper gestured with open hand towards the door on the right.

Grady hesitated. “And where is this
partner
of yours? Are they due back anytime soon?”

Elspeth, who had already started moving towards the door, turned her head back and waved him on. “We haven’t got time to wait around, Grady. Come on!”

The storekeeper led them along a narrow corridor and down a flight of stairs into a cellar. Barrels, boxes, and crates lay all about. A tall shelf of pots and jars stood at the far wall. “This is our herb store, sir, miss. Please feel free to take a looksee.”

Grady shook his head. “There are no labels!”

Elspeth took down one of the jars. “Yes, they’re on the lids. Here, look. Honestly, Grady, you give up too quickly.”

“Oh, good, so we only have to go through about a hundred or so.” Grady picked up a jar and turned to the storekeeper. “Is your partner likely to co—”

Grady felt the plank hit the side of his head. He fell to his side, left arm instinctively outstretched. Frantically, he wheeled his arms, trying to steady himself. The storekeeper clipped him sharply across the fingers with a bottle. Grady fell to the floor. Another whack hit him, this time across his back. He moaned sharply and toppled forwards. Now on his knees, he crawled to the shelf in front of him and tried to climb to his feet. Olshtan, the lecherous man from the bar, kicked him in the back of his leg. Well, at least Grady knew whom the shopkeeper was waiting for.
Fool, falling for a stupid trap like this!

Elspeth ran with jar in hand. She drew back and let swing towards Olshtan’s head. Olshtan backhanded her across the cheek, sending her headfirst into the post in the centre of the room. Elspeth was dazed; shaking, she tried to get to her feet. The storekeeper took up a broom and pinned her to the floor
, the broom head on the back of her neck and his foot pushed into the small of her back.

“Get off me!” she cried, squirming frantically on the floor but unable to lift her head or arms.

Elspeth’s move created the time Grady needed to get back on his feet. He turned and lunged, full speed, into Olshtan. With his shoulder to Olshtan’s gut, he picked him off the floor and drove him into the crates that lay stacked against the back wall. Olshtan lay stunned for a moment.

Grady picked up a bottle and viciously crashed it against the side of the storekeeper
’s head. The bottle shattered. The storekeeper turned. A pitiful expression came upon him as he lifted his hand to his ear. Blood was pouring from a large gash beneath it. A wave of cold panic drew over his face. He stood motionless, staring at Grady through blank, hollow eyes. His lip trembled as he realised the truth of his predicament. Slowly, he lowered his hand and looked at it. “Too much blood,” he whispered. “Too much blood!” he shouted. He stumbled to the barrels underneath the stairway and slid sidelong onto the floor. His breath gurgled with the blood that filled his throat. With a cough, he spat out long globs of blood-strewn spittle onto the floor. Gasping now, he turned to Elspeth and pleaded with open hand for help. But Elspeth didn’t see him. She was busy with her own torment.

Meanwhile, Olshtan came back at Grady from behind. Winding a rope about Grady’s neck, he turned and twisted the line sharply over his shoulder. He put his hip to Grady’s back and lifted him off the ground, hanging him
.

Grady’s feet flayed in the air and his arms spun wildly about, looking for some purchase, some hold to save him. He grabbed the beam above their heads and lifted himself higher. Then he back-heeled Olshtan in the kidney.

Olshtan fell to his knees, releasing Grady, who then fell on top of him. The two struggled on the ground for a moment. Grady broke free and stood barely a second before Olshtan rushed at him. He pulled his knife, drew back hard to stab at Grady’s throat… and then stopped!

Olshtan dropped the blade and stepped back. A peaceful look came upon his face, then a smile, then a long gulp. He looked down his left side, laughing as he did so. He reached under his arm and pulled the narrow blade from his heart. He handed it to Grady, hilt first. Then fell to his knees and then to the floor. He was dead
.

Grady looked down at the blade in his hand. He knew it was Elspeth’s, but he could hardly believe it. A smile came to his face. He was about to thank her, but when he looked up, he saw a ghost.

Elspeth sat on the floor, back up against the post. She pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at her quivering, bloodied hands. She rocked back and forth, whispering to herself. “I had to do it! I had to do it! I had to do it!” Tears flooded her eyes and her face shone red. Out the corner of her eye, she could see the feet of the man she’d just killed. The bottom of his boots faced her. There was a hole in one of the soles; his black sock poked through. She turned to look closer.
He had nothing,
she thought.
All he wanted was some money and now he is dead! By the gods, what if he had children? Oh no! Please no!
Her thoughts turned to whispers and then to moans. “No no, no…” she cried quietly.

Grady peered down at the sorrowful sight. Thoughts went through his mind of the girl who wanted to join the guards
, this child who played with knives and wished for a life of excitement and adventure. Now reality had smacked her about the face and she’d crumbled into a withering pit of despair. He recalled all the times he had killed a man, the times when duty fell upon him to do what needed doing. And he stood up and faced it bravely.

Grady closed his eyes.
But did I?
he thought.
Or was it just luck that I survived? Was it the training that steadied my hand? Would I have acted any differently in her shoes?
He looked at her again and saw a young child forced to kill to save a friend’s life. He knelt in front of her and took her by the shoulders.