A Snoop Without Magic, page 8
“Not many of us are happy with your king and his Court of Nobles,” the man said.
“You are well-informed,” Winnie said.
“There are some of us that would like much closer relations with Toraltia, but not with what we have heard is happening to your country. What brings you to this part of Gruellia?”
“I have an uncle on the west slopes in Duar. We visited him and are heading back, but it is winter, and the passes were too risky, so we decided to travel north and then south to Apple City.”
“You have some days ahead of you, then. Tell someone in charge that there are those in Gruellia that would like to ally with Toraltia after you people get some sense and depose your king and that court.”
“I know someone who knows someone,” Winnie said. “What should I tell her?”
Sam hoped they would be able to keep their stories straight with all the misdirection in their combined comments.
“The seven western tribes are looking to change their allegiance. If you go two-thirds of the way toward the east, most of those you meet will say they are ready to relax the tribal governments and become a nation, but we don’t want to do it on our own,” the man said.
“I spent some time on the mountain border above Mountain View, and the Gruellians routinely raided into Toraltia,” Sam said.
“That is why I said two-thirds. Some of our eastern brothers haven’t realized that they would be better off joining together rather than fighting each other,” the man said.
His three friends nodded, now becoming part of the conversation.
One of the others said, “You should talk to the chief. I can ask him to be here tomorrow morning. We are just tribe members, here.”
Sam nodded. He was out of his element, but no one looked dangerous. It was like any other tavern or inn he’d visited.
“That would be fine. What time will he show up?”
“Why don’t you ask him?” the first man said. “He is tending the bar.”
Sam and Winnie turned to the innkeeper who was behind the bar, wiping out mugs, who waved at them.
“He was the one I asked to make space so I could talk to you,” the Gruellian said.
“Then that is what we will do,” Winnie said.
Their friends tossed some coins on the table and left the inn, leaving Winnie and Sam alone at their end. A server finally showed up. Sam guessed the inn didn’t take their order until the message had been delivered.
The meal was as good as any, but nothing out of the ordinary.
“I don’t know about you, but I am tired,” Winnie said.
“I’ll settle up and meet you upstairs.”
She smiled at him. “Giving me a few minutes to prepare myself?”
Sam nodded.
He watched her leave the common room. The server showed up, and Sam paid him in Duarian coins. He spotted the innkeeper standing by himself and decided to confirm their impromptu meeting.
“You are the local chief?”
The man nodded. “We aren’t savages anymore,” he said, “and most of us would like to have friendlier relations with Toraltia. You look like educated Toraltians, so I had Ommie take a chance to see if you had connections in Toraltia. He said you might. A friend of a friend is better than no friend at all.”
A large group of men walked into the room. “The after-dinner crowd,” the innkeeper said. “If you will excuse me. We will meet at breakfast. Any time will do since the bar is closed in the morning.”
“We’ll see you then,” Sam said.
Sam walked up the stairs and knocked on the door to their room.
“It is safe to come in,” Winnie said.
Sam entered to see a pollen curtain hanging between the two beds.
“The staff pushed the two beds together. I thought this arrangement would be better. We can push them back when we leave in the morning,” Winnie said from behind her side.
At least her voice was friendly. She had been very reserved until he told her about Glory. Did she still harbor feelings for him? Sam didn’t really know if he liked her still or just the memory of her. They hadn’t spent any normal time together to find out. Riding horses towards freeing her father and Harrison from prison wasn’t a normal situation at all.
Sam undressed and jumped into bed and shivered a bit until he warmed up the sheets.
“Can I snuff the candle?” Winnie said.
Sam could see the barest glow of the flickering flame through the thin pollen sheet. He laughed since he couldn’t do the same. His pollen barrier would be transparent, just as Winnie’s would be if he took off his spectacles. He wouldn’t tell her that, but he made a vow that he wouldn’t peek.
“You laughed?
“You wouldn’t be able to see anything I made of pollen,” Sam said. “You can douse the candle.”
The room turned dark, but it lightened with Winnie’s giggle. “Privacy would be difficult, then?”
“Pollen is still a curse,” Sam said.
“That isn’t what I would call it. Different would be better, but then you’ve always been a bit different.”
Sam frowned.
“Oh, not in a negative way. I like different,” she said. “I liked being your friend in Baskin, but…”
“But?” Sam said.
“I always wondered if Baskin was right for you. You learned to speak Vaarekian, and now you are a university graduate before me,” she said. “The nobles still make a mess of Baskin society, but it seemed that you were always meant to be a victim. The nobles think being ‘different’ is a threat, and that is why you were exiled. Father was always worried about that, even when you were only fourteen.”
“Nearly fifteen,” Sam said. “I’m nineteen now, so I must be an even greater threat,” Sam was wondering where this nighttime conversation was going.
“That is what Harrison Dimple thinks.”
“He may be the King of Toraltia before this is all over. That will never happen to me.”
“But you will be involved in helping Harrison. Father was excited that you showed up at the right time.”
“Do you still like different?” Sam said, trying to change the subject.
Winnie was silent for a moment. “I don’t know, but perhaps I will find out.”
Those were the last words spoken.
Sam woke up in the morning. The pollen sheet had sagged during the night, probably a result of Sam’s pollen aversion, but Winnie was gone.
He dressed and walked downstairs to see Winnie and the innkeeper laughing together. “You won’t be leaving today if you know what is good for you,” the innkeeper said.
Sam looked out the multi-paned window. He could barely see the building across the road. “Fog, eh?”
“Fog…yeh,” the innkeeper said. “It will give us a bit more time to talk, unless this stuff burns off early. Sit down, and I’ll get you some breakfast.”
Sam sat and saw that Winnie had nearly finished her morning meal.
“Have you been up long?” Sam asked.
She smiled. “Early enough to have washed and dressed while you were snoring. What did you do with the sheet?”
“I folded the thing up and disposed of it. Something like that doesn’t take very long if I use gold,” Sam said.
“You made it sag last night.”
“Make a thick bar or something along the top, and it won’t sag so badly,” Sam said. “Now you can see why I can’t use a pollen tent,” Sam said.
“You think that is a disadvantage, but I’ve seen you turn that into an advantage,” Winnie said.
“I know. Sometimes I wish I were more normal,” Sam said.
“But then you wouldn’t be the Sam Smith that I know.”
“And who is the Sam Smith that you know?”
Winnie smiled. “I’ll tell you sometime, but the innkeeper is coming, and we have to talk to him about something else.”
The innkeeper set Sam’s breakfast down and joined them.
“So,” the man said, “Who do you know?”
“Many people,” Winnie said, with a smile in her eyes.
The innkeeper chuckled.
“We know Harrison Dimple. Have you heard of him?”
“The healer? We have. You really know him? We have talked about him in our conclaves. That is where most of the chiefs get together and talk about Gruellia.”
“He has been taken prisoner. He tried to sneak into Toraltia but was captured instead. We believe he was taken to Apple City.”
“So you two aren’t married, after all?”
“No,” Winnie said.
The innkeeper nodded. “I suspected so. Newlyweds act differently than you two,” he said, smiling.
Sam grimaced. “We weren’t convincing enough?”
“No touching. That is a big tip-off if you use that excuse in the future.”
Winnie shook her head as if to shake off the notion. “My father accompanied Harrison Dimple to prison. It is our goal to help them escape, but I’m afraid we will need some help.”
“Men? Gruellians? What would we get out of such an arrangement?”
“An honest audience with a possible king,” Sam said. “Do you think the Court of Nobles will treat you as equals?”
The innkeeper shook his head. “Nobles don’t even speak our language. You are right.”
“What is your goal? Did the man we talked to last night speak truly? Does Gruellia want to establish a real country out of your confederation of tribes?” Sam asked.
“We do, most of us. One hundred years ago there wasn’t a village here. We lived in tents and scraped by for our living. Now we have farmers along with those who manage herds, and we live much better. Our children are being educated, and everyone is happier. The old tribal wars only happen between the tribes to the east. They still cling to the old life, saying it is how Havetta wants us to live.”
“You worship Havetta?” Winnie asked.
“All of us do now, including the Eastern tribes, even though they use Havetta as an excuse.”
Sam nodded. “So why don’t you help me take some men into Toraltia to rescue Harrison Dimple, and then they can ride right out after they have talked to him?”
The innkeeper mulled over Sam’s offer. “They wouldn’t help you as Gruellians, but as men coming to your aid.” He looked at both of them. “I will write a letter to the chiefs at your next two villages. If they agree, then I will agree. You can take five volunteers out of the village. Be prepared to leave at midday.”
“What about the fog?”
“What is a little fog to a nomad?” the chief said, grinning.
Chapter Ten
~
“I ’ll take care of this,” Ommie said. He and four of his friends had volunteered to escort Sam and Winnie to the next village.
The Gruellian rode to the front and talked to the men guarding the way to the next village. “Raiders from the east have been active,” Ommie said when he returned. “Two of the men know me, so we can pass. Follow me into the village.”
Sam noticed the unfriendly looks as they rode through the village to another inn.
“Are all the innkeepers chiefs?” Sam asked.
Ommie laughed. “No, but if we are to talk to a group of men, the inns act as our meeting places. The chief has been summoned. Come in and get warm.”
They entered the common room. The new innkeeper allowed Emmy to join them.
A large man ambled into the inn. “Where are the boy and girl?” he asked as soon as he walked through the door.
“In here,” Ommie said. “How are you, Arto?”
“I heard you were with the foreigners. What is it?”
Ommie gave the chief a decent version of what Sam and Winnie had told the innkeeper-chief in the last village.
The chief nodded. “I would be willing, but we have to find out what tribe the easterners have come from, first. I can’t send men out when we are under attack.”
“They never have gone as far as our village,” Ommie said.
“What evidence do you have that the invaders are from the east?” Sam said, wondering if his snooping skills could be used.
“It doesn’t concern you,” the chief said dismissively.
“It does if the invaders are keeping you from joining us. I have some talents as a snoop.”
“He was an investigator at the Baskin Royal Constabulary,” Winnie said.
“For a year,” Sam said, “But I have been called on to help others find things out. Let me listen to your story, and we’ll see if we can find out what is happening.”
Ommie looked hopefully at the chief.
“I don’t see how I can refuse your help. It won’t cost me anything, will it?”
“You make the decision. All I ask is for a few men to accompany Ommie and whomever we can scare up at the next village.”
“Very well. Come with me.”
Sam and Winnie followed the chief, along with Ommie, while the other men decided to spend some time in the common room. The chief had a double-sized cottage just down the road and led them into his house.
“The evidence is in my back workshop.”
The chief showed them to a large workroom that ran along the back of both cottages with a forge smoking in a covered area.
“Smithy,” Sam said. “My last name is Smith, and that was earned by my grandfather and passed to my father.”
“So you understand what I do here?”
Sam grinned. “I do.”
He looked around the workshop and saw a foot-pedaled grinding wheel, as well as other tools he recognized from his days at home. “You have about everything you need.”
The chief’s brusqueness disappeared. “Everything I need.” He walked over to a workbench.
“This is from the attack on a farm outside our village. Our people were nearly killed.”
Sam looked at the arrowhead. It had some unique embellishments. “Are all your arrows different by tribe?”
“Less so now, but some of the eastern Gruellians still make arrowheads unique to their tribe.
Sam slipped his spectacles down to examine the arrow. “This is a fake,” he said. “The embellishments are made out of pollen. This arrowhead wasn’t shot into anything, was it?”
The chief frowned. “No one was shot. This is one of two that fell out of an invader’s quiver.”
Sam took his gold piece out and held it to the arrowhead. The embellishments began to soften a few minutes later. Sam could feel the pollen soften until he could remove it.
“Is this more like the arrowheads you supply to your tribe?”
The chief looked at it closely. “Here is my maker’s notch.” He turned red in the face. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t until I looked at this, but I have seen plenty of people try to cover up their crimes with pollen. I am a bit of a pollen expert and can see through their attempts, like this one. It was especially odd that no one was killed. If there were really raiders, they would have done more than drop arrows.”
“What if this arrow was real?” Ommie said.
“Then I wouldn’t have been of any help. We still have to catch the culprits. Who would want to stir up trouble with the eastern tribes?”
“Most of the chiefs want to unify. We nearly have anyway, but some people want to cling to their old ways. That kind of thing is more prominent in the next village. Don’t tell anyone what you found. I can take it from here.” The chief patted Sam on the shoulder. “We smiths have to stick together, right?”
“Right,” Sam said.
~
Ommie sent a rider to the next village to tell them that Sam and his group of eleven Gruellians were coming. A welcome committee greeted them just before they entered the little valley that held the village on the main road that ran from one end of Gruellia to another and the beginning of the road south into Toraltia.
They were taken to a large building at a crossroads. The next chief sat on an ornate chair, reminding Sam of a throne. Sam thought of the smith’s comment about clinging to the old ways.
Ommie did all the talking. The chief looked at Sam as he heard the two stories.
“You know Harrison Dimple?” he asked Sam.
“I do. I spent an entire season at his side while he healed patients in the mountain villages.”
“We know of Dimple,” the chief said. “An honorable man, if the tales are true.”
“They are,” Sam said.
“You know he has fought Gruellians before.”
“And you have fought Toraltians. Did you really gain anything by doing that, or do you make more money trading with the Toraltian villagers?”
The chief’s eyes widened enough to tell that Sam had hit the mark. He still had a skeptical look on his face. “Did Dimple teach you to fight?”
“He did,” Sam said, wondering why the chief brought that up.
“If you want my men to risk their lives for you, then you need to show you are worthy to lead them. Fight the village champion. If you win, I will send men, if you don’t, you can go back to wherever you came from with your tail between your legs.”
“I can fight,” Sam said. “I am not yet twenty, so…” he shrugged.
“No reason to wait. You can fight in here.” The chief waved his arms. “Clear the room!” He chuckled. “My champion is very, very good.”
“Is this a fight to the death or something?” Sam asked.
The chief laughed. “We seek to be civilized. First blood.”
One touch might be enough to lose, Sam thought. He generally gave up a touch or two to get a measure of his opponents. Luck could easily come into play, but if he could get another set of men, he could head south to Apple City with a chance to free Harrison and Faddon. He didn’t need the troops to free them, but he needed the men to ensure they could get away. It was more than worth a sparring match ending with a single touch.
Sam nodded. “I would like to make sure the weapons are compatible,” he said.
“You can choose whatever weapon you want.”
“My dog Emmy?” Sam said, not serious.
“If you want your dog killed. One touch might be her last touch.”
Sam guessed he didn’t win anything in that exchange. He shrugged. “Not worth it,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to waste a man, but I can do it.”
