Talon’s eyes wandered for a moment and then he was struck by the size of the lake. Surely this couldn’t be just a lake. It must be a sea.
Caleb’s voice jerked him out of his reverie. ‘What else?’
Talon began to list the details that appeared to his almost supernatural sight. Each time he encountered something alien he would struggle to describe it, Caleb would supply the word and he would move on.
As they passed down the road, heading towards the plain upon which the city rested, Talon lost his vantage point and was forced to rely upon memory. When they reached a stand of trees which cut off all sight of the city, Caleb said, ‘You did well. You missed things, but you’re new to this business of paying attention.’
‘Paying attention to what?’ asked Talon.
Caleb smiled – a rare occurrence – and he said, ‘Why to everything. You pay attention to everything.’
‘Why?’
They worked their way along the road, through the woods and past a meadow as Talon waited for his answer. At last Caleb said, ‘When you hunt, to what do you pay attention to?’
‘To everything,’ answered Talon. ‘The direction of the wind, the scents upon the air, the sounds of the woods, to anything that has left tracks.’
Caleb nodded. ‘Always think of yourself as being on the hunt.’
‘Always?’ asked Talon.
‘Always.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’ll keep you alive,’ said Caleb.
They rode in silence for another hour before reaching a crossroads and an inn. It was an hour after midday and Caleb said, ‘We’ll rest the horses and eat here. Then we’ll be in the city by supper.’
Talon had no argument. They had spent two days on the road, and while sleeping under the wagon had been no burden, he welcomed the idea of a hot meal.
The inn was a tiny place, a way-stop for those few people who either found themselves just a little too late in the day to reach Latagore or who, like Caleb and Talon, were stopping for a midday meal. The sign above the door showed a man holding a pitchfork in one hand and a large mug in the other. The paint on the sign was faded, but Talon could see that the man’s expression was one of sublime happiness.
‘What is this place?’ he asked Caleb quietly as the wagon ground to a halt.
‘It is called the Happy Farmer Inn.’
Hearing the wagon, a boy appeared from out the back and listened as Caleb instructed him on how to take care of the two horses. As the wagon was empty, the horses were still fit and required only water and some hay. They would need more rest and grain on the long climb back up into the hills with the wagon loaded.
Caleb led Talon into the inn and crossed to an empty table in the corner. He removed his black slouch hat and adjusted the sword at his side so that he could sit comfortably at the table, and then motioned for Talon to sit down opposite him.
A middle-aged woman with an agreeable manner approached and asked their pleasure. Caleb ordered a meal and ale for both of them and then sat back to observe the other customers.
The common room was quiet, with only four other men taking their midday ease. Two were obviously traders of some fashion, portly men in sturdy but finely-fashioned travel clothing. The other two sat at the next table, heads together, speaking quietly. They appeared to be fighting men of some stripe; both wore simple clothing – tunics, trousers and over-jackets – but no jewellery was evident to Talon. However, their boots and weapons were well cared for, which Talon took to mean they spent a lot of time walking and fighting.
Food was brought and Talon and Caleb ate in silence. The meal wasn’t as good as what was served at Kendrick’s, but it was filling and the young man found the ale satisfactory.
Before they had finished, Talon saw all four other men rise and leave together. After they had gone, Caleb asked, ‘Who do you judge them to be?’
‘Two merchants on their way to Latagore, with two guards to accompany them.’
‘A fair assumption. Though I wager something more was in the wind.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean it’s not unusual for guards to eat near their employers, at a separate table, as those two did, but they seemed intent upon a topic they wished their employers not to overhear. They spent the entire meal in deep conversation.’
Talon shrugged. ‘I’m not sure what this means,’ he said.
‘It means nothing, except that it was not “business as usual” for the guards. One didn’t touch his meal.’ He indicated the table where the two guards had sat, and Talon saw that one plate was indeed untouched.
Talon had served enough guards and mercenaries during the year at Kendrick’s to know that most of them ate whatever was in front of them as if it might be their last meal. ‘All right, Caleb. What do you think this means?’
‘There was no wagon in sight either in the stableyard behind the inn as we approached, or on either side of the building, but there were four horses being looked after by the boy who came to take our wagon.’
Talon reflected upon what he had seen and what he knew of travelling merchants. ‘So, this would mean that those two merchants were travelling to buy goods in Latagore?’
‘Or to arrange for transport somewhere else, but they are not selling wares in the city.’
‘Which means they are carrying gold.’
‘Perhaps, but the two mercenaries they hired are likely to assume as much.’
Talon hurried to finish his meal.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Caleb.
‘We’re going to hurry after them and help, aren’t we?’
‘We are not,’ said Caleb. ‘You’ll find enough trouble on the road without volunteering to take up someone else’s.’
‘But those two guards will kill those men for sure,’ said Talon, draining his mug and standing up. ‘We can stop black murder.’
Caleb shook his head. ‘Most likely they will take whatever gold the merchants have, and the horses, and leave them to walk to Latagore. By the time they reach the city, the two mercenaries will already have left on a boat for the far shore and be on their way to High Reaches or Coastal Watch.’
‘Or they could simply slit their throats and linger in Latagore. The nervous one might get panicked and act rashly.’
Caleb stood up and signalled to the woman who had served them. ‘Tell the boy to ready our wagon.’ Looking at Talon he said, ‘We will have to whip the horses to a froth to overtake them.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Talon. ‘The mercenaries do not look like the type to ride in haste. They will attempt to keep the merchants deceived until they attack them. You’ve travelled this road before; where would you judge the most likely place for the murders to take place?’
‘There’s a deep ravine five miles along from here, and it abuts the road. If I were to carry out an attack, that is where I would do it, for it would be easy enough work to drag the bodies up into the ravine for half a mile or so, then quickly return to the road without anyone noticing. It might take months for anyone to stumble on the bodies should that be the case.’
Talon said, ‘Then we need to hurry. They must already be a mile or more down the road.’
Caleb fixed Talon with a curious look for a moment, then said, ‘Let us go, then.’
They had to wait a few minutes for the wagon to be fetched around from the back. The boy had brushed the horses while they had rested and Caleb gave him a copper piece for doing the extra work.
