Dark Legion Page 19

  “No? Then who will?”

  “Hells, Marcus, you are the best man I know. I don’t know why these men turned out the way they did, but I can say with certainty that it wasn’t your doing. I’d guess your selection criteria were perhaps a bit on the lax side. But beggars can’t be choosers. Did Adair say who hired these bastards?”

  “He got few answers,” Marcus said. “Only that the men were paid off by one or more of the local brewers. But they never met face-to-face and didn’t know their identities, only that they paid good money. Looks like someone else have their eye on winning the competition. Or maybe they just didn’t like that the town are clamoring for our ale.”

  “I’m sorry, guys,” Neysa said from inside the kettle. The men in the kettle had thrown up from the pain and pissed themselves. Neysa volunteered for the disgusting task of cleaning it.

  “What for?” I asked.

  “For not getting to those fuckers quicker. I thought you guys had gotten back from your deliveries. I came down to tell you to stop making such a racket.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Marcus said.

  “And you stop worrying about it,” I said to Marcus. “It’s not your fault those men are arseholes.”

  “Well, all but one are dead now,” Marcus said.

  “How so?”

  “They took too much of a battering when you threw them into the kettle and bled inside, or so the doctor said. Adair is covering for us. His story is that he chased the men and they fell from the balcony,” Marcus said. “Which is good—we don’t want any word of Neysa’s magic spreading about.”

  I looked at our barrels. They were so crammed with hops that the dried flowers stuck from the bungs. Those bastards really did shove as much of the stuff in there as they could. It was such a shame. The ale was amazing, and proving incredibly popular. I retrieved a mug from the shelf, and tipped the dregs of coffee into the mop bucket. I filled the mug, and raised it in a toast to our deceased ale. “For the one who waits… even for ale,” I whispered to my god. I sniffed the mug. Hops. So much hops. I closed my eyes, and braced myself as I took a sip. I clapped my tongue on the roof of my mouth, then opened my eyes and took another sip.

  “Erm— Marcus, taste this,” I said, holding the cup out to him.

  Marcus turned, leaned the mop against the wall, and took the mug. He sniffed at it, took a long sip, and frowned. “This… is amazing. What is it?”

  I tapped on the side of the barrel. Marcus started laughing, picked me up in a bear hug, and danced me around the barrel room, my feet dangling. Neysa stuck her head out from the top of the kettle.

  “Get a room,” she said, and climbed down the ladder. She walked into the barrel room, and Marcus handed her the mug. She looked at it, and took a sip, swishing the ale around her mouth. “Hoppy as all buggery. But I like it. What’s it called?”

  Marcus put me down, put a finger to his lip, and rolled his eyes. “Hmm…” He picked up a piece of chalk, paused for a moment, then added an I in front of the P.A. already chalked onto the barrel, smiling.

  “Oh, it’s that ale. Thought you said it was ruined? Don’t tell me no one actually tasted it before declaring it ruined,” Neysa said. “What does the I stand for?”

  “Imperial pale ale. What do you think?” Marcus asked. “Those empire-loving bastards will love it. I.P.A.—it has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Solstice

  Winter solstice was on us in no time at all and with it, the town fair. I found it odd that people chose to celebrate the coldest, darkest day of the year. But I guessed if you were going to freeze your arse off anyway, you may as well get drunk and eat a lot. Neysa told me that, in the past, and still in some smaller villages, many died from hunger and illness over winter. Being alive was worth celebrating. My own continuing survival was somewhat of a miracle, and so I was in a celebratory mood myself.

  The Bleeding Wolf was so busy we actually had to turn people away. Patronage had increased significantly since the release of our near-disaster of an ale anyway, but Solstice Day was insane. We were not the only ones doing well for ourselves. Malvin bought into a mercantile business with the fortune we’d paid him. He came by, as he was on shore leave, and brought his business partner along. His partner went by the name of Smid. He was the captain, and he looked the part. He sported a truly impressive beard and had arms thick enough to rival a bear’s. Well, perhaps a small bear. He seemed a nice enough man, but he was to the point and spoke in bursts. I watched them from behind the bar as they drank our ale. I was trying to decide if they liked it or not by watching their expressions. I suspected not. They sniffed at it constantly, their faces serious. You can’t please them all.

  I turned to watch the musician, as the rest of the tavern was doing. The girl, Danielle, had come past the tavern a few days prior and begged to play. She’d asked to be paid in tips. I’d let her audition, and her performance had choked me up. She was exceptionally talented, so I’d offered to pay her a silver in addition to whatever tips she received. I thought she would add to the festival atmosphere, but she failed spectacularly on that front. You see, I did not realize that she would reduce the tavern to silence. It was an odd thing to witness, a full tavern sitting quiet and attentive. Only Malvin and Smid talked as she performed; the rest were transfixed.

  Her eyes were closed as she sang, and her fingers danced along the neck of her lute. The effect wasn’t of a voice and a lute, but of two parts of one instrument, blending together and dancing around each other like a couple on a riverbank. Our patrons gawked at her, as I did. It helped that she was stunning.

  The girl soon took a break, and suddenly I found myself surrounded by thirsty customers. When they were back at their tables, or standing where space allowed, Malvin called us over. Marcus and I sat across from the two merchants, and they looked at each other with sly grins. Damn salesmen.

  “Your new ale is very popular in Sagemont, and we can see why,” Malvin said. “In fact, we believe it would be popular in a lot of other places too. Places that would be prepared to pay handsomely. Smid and I have been discussing these opportunities, and we think we have an offer that would appeal to you. Now, I must stress that this would be an exclusive distribution deal. That means you can’t sell to the local proprietors either,” Malvin said, and Smid nodded along to the pitch they prepared. “However, I dare say we’d probably be paying more than they currently do.”

  “How much?” I asked.

  “A gold coin for every five barrels,” Malvin said with a big smile.

  “That… is a lot. I think we can agree to that,” I said, looking at Marcus for confirmation. Marcus was nodding frantically. As a businessman, I probably should have negotiated further, but his offer was more than double than we were making.

  “I can offer you an additional benefit if you are interested. We can pay you in half the coin here, and deposit the other half in the free city of Qash. The latter half, of course, being exempt from ridiculous imperial taxes.” I had heard of such arrangements. Qash was a major trade hub, and while technically part of the empire, it essentially ruled itself. The emperor knew that enforcing his laws and excessive taxes there would divert trade to cities outside the empire. “The banking houses in Qash—if you’ve heard anything about them, you know that they are strictly by the book. Your money could not be in a safer place.” We agreed to the deal. It was a good one, and—selfishly, perhaps—I relished the thought of someone else taking care of our deliveries.

  Smid soon left, but Malvin stayed to sign the paperwork. He also offered to help out at the tavern, and we accepted his assistance graciously, putting him behind the bar while Neysa got dressed. Many dressed up for the festivities, often in humorous or scary costumes. Neysa had spent the previous week making hers, and the majority of that time to fashioning a mask. Getting into the costume clearly took an age as well, as she’d left to get into the outfit close to an hour before.

  The
crowd thinned out as our imperial pale ale ran dry and Marcus and I excused ourselves, leaving Malvin to run the tavern. We had an hour before the brewing competition started, so we went for a stroll. The past weeks had kept me so busy that I’d found myself forgetting what the real goal of it was. Really, the past couple of months would be rendered a waste of time if we failed to win that night.

  Sagemont received some visitors that day who acted as a stark reminder. The emperor had arrived from across the lake that morning with the Dark Legion in tow. As we walked through the streets, I observed the emperor acting as a negative force. The people surged this way and that, like a tide. As soon as he and his red-robed dogs came to a street, it emptied to another.

  “Deep thoughts for you tonight,” Marcus said.

  “Just thinking of what would happen if we lost.”

  “Hmm. Well, we would be some of the richest losers around,” Marcus said. “That deal we made tonight… it is a very good deal. We need to put some thought into how we will keep it running once we make for Morwynne. Our cause would benefit greatly from a steady source of coin.”

  “That’s a good point,” I said. “We also need to figure out how we will brew enough ale to supply Malvin and company, as well as the Harvest Festival. I suggest we look at buying out some of the other taverns. That would help us increase our production capacity and save us the trouble of actually brewing.”

  Our walk led us to the market, and I could not help but smile to see the town so buoyant, even on that cold winter’s night. It looked like a different town altogether. It helped that the curfew was suspended for the celebrations. The people took advantage of their freedom to roam the streets that night, and the streets teemed with people, many from smaller towns. People had an odd tendency of herding together. But it was fainthearted animals that moved about in herds. The lion walked alone in the desert. I found empty pockets in the crowd where I could, and we weaved from one to the next.

  I did not like being surrounded by people. Their touch made me uneasy, and the noise irritated me. For one night, though, I tried to put that aside. It was good to see them that way. Everyone looked happy, and many wore their costumes. The children in particular had the time of their lives as they ran through the crowd, well past their bedtime. Young people occupied themselves with the age-old game of tongue wrestling, and people of all ages enjoyed each other’s company. I wondered if this was what the town would look like if it were free of the empire. I doubted it, but I wondered.

  “Boys,” a voice said from behind. The cold river running past me could only come from one man, and I ground my teeth as I turned to face him.

  “What are you doing here, you old goat? Thought you stayed in your mansion of mystery?” Marcus asked. I stared coldly at my friend. How could he be so friendly with the man who played with us as if we were his puppets?

  “I thought I’d come and see how you fared in the competition. Though from the talk around town, I daresay it won’t be much of one. Besides, I have a surprise for Sagemont. It will be quite the spectacle.”

  “Now that’s a worry,” Marcus said.

  “Well, I won’t keep you. I have much to do. Enjoy your evening,” Malakai said as he walked past.

  “I think the old man is growing on me,” Marcus said. “Though the Gods know why.”

  I sure as hells didn’t.

  We continued on through the market, and I came across a delicacy from my homeland. I bought one of the woven baskets filled with small red peppers that had been hollowed out and filled with goat’s cheese. The fiery little buggers were fantastic, and I finished them in minutes. Marcus liked the one he tried, but the heat was too much for him. I was fine with that—it meant there were more for me. When I was young, I’d had to fight my brother for them, and he was quite a bit bigger.

  The smell of incense assaulted me—a terrible smell. It came from a purple tent with a beaded curtain for a door.

  “Let’s go see the fortune-teller,” Marcus said. “Maybe she can tell us how we’ll do in the competition.”

  “That stuff creeps me out. It didn’t used to, but your coffee reading changed that.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  The beads clinked together behind me as I walked through the purple tent. The smell of incense was nauseating, but when I tried to breathe through my mouth, it tickled my throat. We sat down on some of the large cushions that were arranged on the ground and waited for the fortune-teller to come out. I was about to suggest we leave when an older lady with a purple veil came in, a white rooster in the crook of her arm.

  “Evening, I am Madame Selena. You are who?” She had an unusual accent, one that I couldn’t place.

  “My name is Marcus, and this is Saul.”

  “Ah, Malakai… he said you two would stop here,” Selena said. We looked at each other, frowning. “Makes you wonder who tells the fortune, no? Give me your hands.” She put the rooster down, sat down in front of us, and took our hands in hers. Her hand felt rough on mine, but it was warm and dry. She lowered her head close to my hand, twisting it this way and that, and hummed an odd tune to herself. I felt something like magic, but it was entirely different at the same time. She then hovered over Marcus’s hand and did the same. I watched her and tried to discern her face through the sheer veil. I couldn’t see much, but what I saw looked angular, and her pronounced cheekbones lifted the veil from her face. I was startled when she slammed our hands together, enclosing them in hers. She looked up at the ceiling and her humming got louder.

  “Hmmm, yes, your fates, they are tied to one another,” she said, looking very serious. “Your life lines have many forks, many opportunities to diverge and split apart. Don’t let this happen. Stay here,” Selena said. She stood, picked up her rooster, and carried it to an area with glyphs arranged in a rough circle in the dirt. She took a small pouch from her belt, and started sprinkling corn onto the glyphs. She watched the rooster as it pecked at the corn, humming and nodding every so often. I looked at Marcus, who shrugged. After a few minutes, she clapped her hands together once and sat back down.

  “Sometimes the lives of others are open to me, like a book. Other times, things are less certain. That is you. There are some in my profession, they tell the things that make the customers pay. Me, I tell the things I see. With you two, I see little, so I tell you little. With you,” she said, looking me in the eye, “futures swirl around you like a desert wind. In the near future, I don’t see much. Some fellowship and loneliness together, and a gathering of harvest. Then there is a time of much uncertainty, followed by a journey and a discovery… these things are but vague. A mirage in the desert. This is all.”

  “Okay…” I said as I stood. “What do we owe you?”

  “Nothing. I tell you nothing, you pay me nothing. Now, out,” Selena said pushing us out of her tent. The fresh air was a great relief. We looked at each other, confused.

  “Also,” Selena said from the tent. “You should trust in Malakai. You might want to fight against the pull of his plans, but it is like walking against the hurricane. You will be tired, but swept along still. You should know, the one he plays against has dark intentions. If you fight against Malakai, you only help a worse master,” Selena said, and disappeared back into her tent.

  The time of the competition was fast approaching, and as we left the tent, we walked to an area that was cleared for performers and musicians. The space would also be used by the panel of judges. When we arrived, a man was breathing fire and doing tricks involving the spinning of a burning object attached to a rope. It was relatively entertaining, but Neysa knew better tricks.

  Besides, my thoughts were on Selena’s words. It troubled me that there was another like Malakai—one who might be even worse. Regardless of her advice, I would not let him be my master. I was done with being a slave. My hands felt clammy as I wrung them.

  “What’s wrong?” Marcus asked.

  “Selena’s words disturb me.”

  “Come, now. You should
be pleased that Malakai has our prosperity in mind.”

  I thought he was stretching her words to fill his own need of assurance. The crowd around us applauded, and I gave a single half-hearted clap. The fire breather left, and a round table was carried into the square.

  “This is us,” Marcus said.

  Four men and one woman took their seats at the table. Seven girls poured ale into numbered tankards from the seven barrels behind a screen. The girls placed one tankard of each number in front of the five judges. What followed was a fairly dull affair. The judges drank the ale, discussing the merits of each amongst themselves, and made notes. Some of the crowd had dispersed by the time the verdict came. An old man with a tremendous beard stood and looked at his comrades before clearing his throat.

  “Excuse me. Can I have your attention please? We have sampled the ales entered into the fifteenth annual Sagemont Brewing Competition. I am pleased to announce that this year had a record number of entrants. The panel has made notes and discussed each of the ales. We are pleased to announce the winners thusly. In third place, the ale by the Horseman Inn. A round of applause please for the Horseman Inn.” A few people in the crowd clapped. “The second place goes to… The Quartermaster Tavern, give them a hand.” More people applauded, as the Quartermaster was quite a popular tavern with sailors. “As you all know, the winner of this competition has their entry shipped to Morwynne to be judged in a second round with other winners from towns around the empire. This year, ladies and gentlemen, we have a shot!” The crowd was cheering, and some clapped Marcus and me on the back. I thought them a bit presumptuous. “The winner, people of Sagemont, is… is… is…”

  The man stuttered to a stop as six figures approached from the silent crowd. The people were actively trying to back away from them. Four men in red robes walked forward, the Dark Legion of course, and in the middle of these men was none other than emperor Solas. Another figure walked beside him, and though hooded in a dark robe, he looked like a floating broom, so skinny was he. There was something off about him. I could feel the magic pulsing from him. It might have been Solas, but I thought not.