The Age of Heroes, Page 3

  “I’m not surprised. I’m annoyed that I no longer have a healer I can trust.”

  Travis shook his head. “Yes, I’m sure her family are devastated for you.”

  “Look just get me some harawort to keep me going. I know someone I can see.”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Travis.”

  “Very well, but this healer had better not live too far away.”

  -O-

  Rawk sat down on the bed wearing nothing but the fresh, clean bandages. “Thank you, Travis. I owe you one.” The pain and the bleeding had both subsided. Perhaps it had all been shock. Perhaps he was just getting old. He winced as he flexed his knee as well.

  “One?” Travis shook his head. “You know, for the last year I’ve been counting the times you said that? As of now, you owe me two hundred and seventy two ‘ones’.”

  Rawk smiled. “Maybe, but this ‘one’ is worth considerably more than the ‘one’ I owe you from when you let me hide behind the bar to get away from...”

  “Halip.”

  “Yes, that’s her. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Not when you’d already said yes a couple of times the night before. You bring it on yourself, you know.”

  Rawk smiled some more. “Getting caught wouldn’t have been the end of the world.”

  Travis threw a towel at him. “I should get going. I imagine the evening crowd has already started to arrive.”

  When he was alone, Rawk sighed and carefully rose to his feet. He looked around, but there weren’t any clothes on the bed or floor; Travis had been busy, obviously. He went to the drawers for underwear, breeches and a long sleeved shirt to cover the bandages.

  His belt lay near the foot of the bed. He removed Dabaneera. He leaned the weapon against the wall then thought better of it and pulled the weapons’ chest out from under the bed. He found Kult on top and swapped it for the other blade. And he remembered he was going to see Silver Lark, so he rummaged some more. Below the swords and daggers and a mace—where the hell had he gotten a mace and why did he still have it?—were some amulets he hadn’t even bothered pulling out for the last few years.

  The first one had an eagle engraved onto the face. Rawk didn’t know its purpose but he liked the picture. He tossed it back in the box and pulled out the next. A brass thing that was supposed to improve the taste of food. He’d never known if he should wear it or throw it in the pot. Either way, it would take more than magic to turn anything he cooked into something edible. That went back in the box too. The last one, tangled around the handle of a rapier that was as unlikely as the mace, was silver and gold with a star on the western side of an ivy circle. He hung the chain around his neck then made sure the amulet was facing the right direction and hidden under his shirt.

  “Right.” Am I ready? Sword, amulet, belt. He checked the pouches on his belt. They were all secure. “Right.”

  Back out the door again and carefully down the stairs to the taproom.

  “How is it today?” Rawk asked, indicating the front door.

  Mykle looked up from stacking tankards. “Not too bad.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  A crowd of people blocked the street outside. They often did after Rawk did something heroic but, like Mykle said, it was relatively small. Forty or fifty people. They cheered as he stepped into view. A few years ago Weaver had been forced to send some Guards to conk heads and get things in order. Now only the die-hards continued to turn up. Maybe they were as tired as Rawk.

  “Good afternoon.” It was almost evening.

  Before he could say anything else, the crowd started throwing things. Once it had been money from the men and flowers from the women. These days it was mainly ribbons tied to walnuts, which was just strange. It signified something or other, but Rawk had never been able to work it out, and nobody had bothered to tell him. He held up his hand and the nuts and the cheering started to slow.

  “Thank you, everyone.”

  “I love you, Rawk,” someone shouted.

  “I love you, too.” There was some polite laughter. “I appreciate your appreciation but if you keep doing this the inn keeper is going to throw me out. You make extra work for him when he has enough to do complaining about all the other work I make for him.”

  More laughter.

  “So, I’ll ask you again, instead of throwing—” He looked down and saw what appeared to be some underwear near his feet. “Instead of throwing things at me, make a donation to the Brothers of Granda. We all know they need walnuts and underwear more than I do.”

  But they weren’t really listening.

  “Were you scared, Rawk?”

  “Of course he wasn’t, you idiot.”

  “Do you think there are more of them?”

  “What if there are more of them?”

  Rawk wasn’t given the chance to answer, even if he had wanted to. The questions kept coming and probably would for the rest of the day if he let them. “I have business to attend to,” he said. “Thank you for coming to see me.” He stepped off the porch and pushed his way through the crowd. Those closest to him were trying to make a path, but those behind were pushing closer and what resulted was a grunting, straining melee of people with no room for anyone. But Rawk was bigger than just about everyone else and made room. His arm hurt, but some other people would be hurting more. That was their problem.

  When he broke into the clear, Rawk straightened his shoulders, checked he still had his belt, sword and amulet, and started down the hill. Some of the keener, and younger, members of the crowd were sure to follow but they would grow bored soon enough.

  By the next corner there were only three boys left and Rawk called them over. He gave each of them an ithel. “Now on your way,” he said, and they disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians. Rawk gave another brass coin to a beggar.

  “Thank you, Rawk.”

  “Spend it well, Crath.”

  “Always do.”

  Rawk took a strip of dried meat from one of the pouches on his belt and chewed it as he moved on.

  For most people, the journey to the river, down the long, narrow spine of the hill, wouldn’t take very long, but at the first corner an old lady stopped Rawk to touch his arm and ask for his blessing. He wasn’t a priest, and didn’t really believe in The Great Path, but he knew passing on that information wouldn’t do him any good. So, he touched the lady’s cheek, mumbled something about dinner and continued on his way. Then there was an old man, a veteran of some war or another, who wanted to see his sword and talk about various weapons. That conversation took five minutes, and a boy stopped him for another two. Then the merchant and the baker and the two maids with baskets of vegetables in their hands. That last one took quite a while and left Rawk feeling good until a muvokit stopped him to talk about skinning wolden wolves. As if Rawk had ever skinned a wolf in his life.

  Half an hour later, Rawk entered Old Square at the edge of the river and looked around. Factories had surrounded the square twenty years ago. A tannery had dominated the area, with both its size and its stench. Weaver had changed all that. Industry had been confined to the south of the river. Not only had the noises and smells of the businesses gone, but the dwarves had gone with them so it had been a good decision all round.

  And what was left in the square was a thriving market place, like a flower garden of canvas roofs with strange nectar from a hundred places around the world. The scent of candied fruit and a hundred herbs followed him. Children giggled and chattered calling his name and darting away into the maze of stalls. The last rush of the day was underway with people hurrying to complete their business before the sun went down, so Rawk passed through to Dragon Bridge with just one small delay.

  That was good news, but then, as he made his way into the stone dragon’s maw and started the long climb towards the top of the creature’s arched back, he found himself caught behind a group of fifty or so dwarves. They must have been working on the sewers. They wer
en’t singing, which was good, but they smelled like a boatload of pigs. Rawk thought of pushing through, but there was hardly room enough for them and his arm was starting to ache again so he feared that any jostling might make him do something he would regret. He thought of going around, but the traffic on the other side was even worse with human laborers heading home from the factories and warehouses. So he bit his tongue and kept to the slow, steady pace.

  Down below, the slow brown flow of water carried boats out towards the Bay of Kata. Dragon Bridge was the last that proper ships could fit beneath, and then it was a squeeze. The river wasn’t deep enough for them for much further anyway. Sailors called out or sang as they worked at the sails or whatever else sailors worked at. Fishing trawlers nudged away from the wharves. A barge full of grain crawled further up river, slinking under the next bridge as it headed for the grain merchant’s warehouses on the other side of the city.

  For a while, Rawk felt the barge, being poled along by two dozen dwarves, was going faster than he was. Eventually, he saw his chance and darted around the outside of the crowd. He held his arm against his chest as he strode down the far side of the bridge. He passed the dragon’s tail and stepped out onto the southern side of the river as if the creature had shat him out. He gave a grunt. The south was certainly where all the shit of Katamood had gathered.

  -O-

  It was at least five years since he’d been over the river. It was like stepping into another world. The city itself still looked the same, though the plastered walls weren’t quite as white here and the exposed frames a little bit rougher, but there were more dwarves and elves and the dark skinned, native fermi than anyone else. Dwarves were everywhere. He didn’t remember there being that many of them. They walked about as if they owned the place, loud and confident, showing none of the deference they showed on the other side of the river. Those who noticed Rawk grew quiet, but he now knew it to be a lie and it grated on his nerves. He felt like shouting at them, telling them to show the proper respect, but his arm throbbed and he wanted to get out of there as quickly as he could. So he tried to ignore everyone and get his bearings.

  The industrial area was concentrated along the shoreline and swung around to the east of Mount Grace, clinging close to the water of the Bay. Mostly half-timber walls, but a few stone as well. One stone wall, large blocks fitted with barely a crack between, had graffiti painted on the side in sweeping, red letters. Any man can think like his friends. It takes a great man to think like those he doesn’t like. And down the bottom, Words of Wisdom. There was a scaffold by another building with a dozen dwarves working to repair a roof.

  Further away, the skirts of the mountain were taken up with homes, though he could see none of them from his position, with the last off the day’s light disappearing by the moment. But which way to the home he wanted? It had been a long time since he’d been there...

  “‘Scuse me, Mr Rawk, sir.”

  Rawk turned and discovered a dwarf by his side. Rawk didn’t know how to judge the age of dwarves but this one was even shorter than usual and didn’t have a beard, so it was probably a young child.

  “I’m not giving you any money,” Rawk said. He almost pushed the boy away but thought better of it. Others were watching and stories travelled through Katamood faster than diseases. There were even a few humans still about.

  “I don’t want any money, Mr Rawk.”

  Rawk found that hard to believe. The boy wore not much more than rags and smelt like he’d slept in a garbage bin. His red hair stuck up all over the place.

  “I thought you looked lost, Mr Rawk. I know all the places around here.”

  Rawk looked around. “I’m sure you do.”

  “Do you need some help?”

  Rawk sighed. “I’m looking for...” But he didn’t even know what name she was using. Surely not her own. “I’m looking for a healer...” But the very reason he sought her was because he didn’t want anyone to know he needed a healer.

  The boy’s eyes narrowed. “There are healers over the other side of the river.”

  “I know. I’m getting some advice for... a friend. He doesn’t like crowds but is willing to pay for the best. He gave me a healer’s name but I can’t remember it.” Any half intelligent person would jump to the conclusion that the ‘friend’ was Weaver. But he was talking to a dwarf child, so who could tell?

  The boy smiled and nodded, as if that cleared everything up. “Sylvia’s the best healer in Katamood,” he said. “Maybe in the whole world.”

  “Sylvia?”

  “Just a guess.”

  It sounded about right. And she probably would go around telling everyone she was the best healer in the world. Rawk waved his hand into the growing darkness of the city. “Well, if you can tell me the way...” He started to reach for some money.

  “I can show you the way. I’m Clinker.” The boy bent down and collected a tattered leather satchel from near his feet. It rattled and clanked as he slung it over his shoulder. “Come on.”

  “Well, thank you, but...” He didn’t want to be seen spending more time with a dwarf than was necessary but Clinker had already strode away through the crowd, if dwarf children could stride. Rawk hurried to catch up.

  “You don’t visit us much,” Clinker said when Rawk fell in to step beside him.

  “Not a lot of reason to—”

  “Kikum said you were going to come and get rid of our grespan rats. They were about twice as big as the ones on the other side of the river, I think.” He held his hands out like a fisherman describing his catch. He could barely hold them far enough apart.

  Rawk grunted. “I can’t do everything.”

  “That’s what I said.” Clinker turned down a side street. Not much more than an alley with buildings crowding close. “Anyway, Thacker organized someone to sort it out.”

  “Thacker?”

  “Yeah, he got some workers from the wharves to go have a look, I think. Took ‘em a couple of days but they got it done. They reckon they found a whole big nest of them.”

  “Well...” Rawk hadn’t found much at all on the other side of the river. He’d traipsed around in alleys and slums for about a week killing the vile creatures and then they’d stopped coming. He hadn’t argued.

  “I... I was led to believe the healer lived on Mount Grace.”

  “She does.”

  “Then why are we going this way?”

  Clinker laughed. “Can’t go in no straight line these days, you see. It’s the canal.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “They’re building bridges quick smart, but they can’t build them where they’re still working on the canal. There’s only sixty yards to go now, you know. I paced it out the other day. Me and Kikum. He says it’s fifty yards, but I know it’s sixty.”

  “Right.”

  A few blocks further on, Rawk stopped outside the biggest construction site he’d ever seen. He’d been watching from the Hero’s Rest as the canal crept through the city, the leading end moving ever closer to a little stub of canal that projected out from the Bay of Kata, but to see it close up was quite another thing.

  “Ain’t it something?”

  Ugly and noisy and dusty was what it was.

  “Thacker thinks it might be the biggest engineering job ever.”

  Rawk grunted. “You could have gone around the other side of the mountain instead of ruining the city.” Though, admittedly, cleaning up south of the river might have been a good idea.

  “They was going to, but the ground was too hard. All rocks over that way. Thacker could’ve worked it out, but Prince Weaver didn’t want to wait.”

  Rawk grunted again. Weaver couldn’t wait for an egg to boil.

  “That’s what Larsi says, anyway. Not sure if I believe her though. She’s just a girl.”

  “Can’t trust them girls.”

  “Right.” Clinker nodded and smiled.

  Rawk looked at the canal as he started to walk again. From the Yanandar Sea to
the Bay of Kata. Twenty miles long? It was fifty yards wide, more than enough for two ships to pass. That was a lot of dirt and rock and digging. And as far as Rawk was concerned, it wasn’t going to be worth it. That was if it even worked. Weaver said he had it all worked out, but what did he know about engineering? There were hills in the way. And he knew for a fact that the tide levels in the Yanandar Sea and the Bay of Kata were different. In the end, it would just be another sewerage drain dividing the city. One that would never have stones laid back over the top. And in the meantime, there were dwarves everywhere.

  A few minutes later and they came to a new bridge. There were towers on either side of the canal and a flat, broad bridge between.

  “This is just stupid. You’d be lucky to get an empty barge under this thing.”

  “They folds up like two big draw bridges.” Clinker used his arms to demonstrate again. There’s going to be other bridges too. Different types. And maybe some tunnels.”

  Rawk shook his head in disbelief. Tunnels under the canal? Weaver always did have a problem knowing when to stop.

  There was another message scrawled on the closest of the towers. For one noble to fall, a thousand peasants must rise. Words of Wisdom.

  There were half a dozen dwarves staring up at the words. They talked for a moment, nodding and pointing, then took up buckets and scrubbing brushes and set to work.

  Rawk and Clinker joined the flow of traffic and by the time they reached the tower the words were half gone. A thousand peasants must rise. Over the other side, they were swept back towards the mountain. Not long later they started to climb and soon the road was so steep that it became a wide, shallow flight of stairs.

  “There’s roads that wagons can get up,” Clinker said. He seemed to have an endless amount of energy. Maybe that was the natural condition of young boys. “This way is the quickest though.” The dwarf’s little legs carried him along quickly but he had to jump up the stairs. His bag rattled and clanked all the way. The noise was starting to annoy Rawk as much as the back alley stench.