All that Glitters (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 1) (14 page)

Barvil grimaced. "If that's the situation, let's hope someone hires us soon so we can leave."

B
ARVIL GAVE HIS ORDERS AS SOON
as Elain's came into view. "Prepare to leave. I want to be ready if someone comes looking for us."

Elain saw them enter and hurried over to Barvil. "Goodman Barvil, what happened? Has there been trouble?" she asked after seeing the blood and dirt on the warriors.

"We were attacked by a bunch of men who were after Stavin and his armor. Your pardon, Madam Elain, but I'd feel better if I had two armed men down in the common room at all times," Barvil explained, glancing around.

"Indeed, and so would I, Goodman Barvil. So would I. I'll also be having a word with some friends of mine about this. This won't be allowed to happen again." She had spoken quietly, but Barvil still took an involuntary step backwards, away from the menace in her eyes and tone. She spared him one last glance, then swiftly disappeared into the back of the inn.

"Your pardon, Goodman Barvil," one of the serving girls said, drawing his attention. "Here is water and some bandages for your men."

Barvil bowed slightly. "Thank you, miss. I don't think we'll need much more, but I would like to get some food into them. It'll help distract them."

The girl smiled and bobbed a quick curtsy. "The luncheon will be ready soon."

While Barvil had been talking, Davel and Chandar had been removing Kahndar's armor to get a better look at his arm. Davel was examining the cut when Avid appeared at his side.

"Your pardon, but please allow me to see to that," he said, placing a large satchel on the table. "We see an unfortunate amount of this sort of thing." He didn't exactly push Davel out of the way, but somehow ended up between him and Kahndar. Examining the cut, he probed Kahndar's arm with gentle fingers.

"It doesn't appear that any bones are broken, but we'll give you a bit of Bone Heal anyway, just in case there are any cracks. Overall, young man, I'd say you were exceptionally lucky."

Kahndar was gritting his teeth in an effort to fight the pain, but still managed to answer. "Cut though my armor with an ax. Almost took my arm. Oh, Gods Below, that hurts."

Avid nodded and smiled. "That's good. It means there's no nerve damage and you'll keep your hand. Now let's take care of it. Some Heal-All first." He pulled a large earthenware jar from the satchel and smeared a generous finger-full of the salve over and into the cut on Kahndar's arm. A satisfied smile crossed his lips as the magical salve numbed the area and Kahndar let loose a long sigh of relief. "One of our regulars is an Adept Healer-Mage. He makes this extra strong for us. Now I can sew you up without listening to you grunt and groan." He pulled a small round case from the satchel and opened it to reveal a spool of silk thread and a small, curved needle. He ran out a length of silk and snipped it off, then expertly threaded the needle. In a matter of moments he had the cut on Kahndar's arm sewn shut with fifteen neat, even stitches.

"That'll do for now. The Heal-All will take care of the rest in two or three days." With that he packed up his satchel and left without another word.

Barvil inspected the cut without touching Kahndar's arm. "He's better at sewing skin than I am. Eat, then go to bed. That Heal-All is going to pull a lot of energy out of you to fix your arm. Davel," he said, turning to the other senior member of his team, "get some help and see to it that Kahndar gets to his room before the salve puts him to sleep and we have to carry him up the stairs. You heard my instructions."

Barvil left Kahndar and checked Stavin and Lavin. Both young men were sitting up with wet rags around their necks and on their brows. "How are you two feeling?" he asked, looking back and forth between them.

Lavin answered first. "I feel like I've had too much beer. Everything is fuzzy and I'm dizzy. My head is pounding as well."

Barvil transferred his attention to Stavin and got an answer before he asked. "I feel like Lavin does. At least I'm only seeing one of everything now."

"Good," Barvil answered as he looked at both of them. "We'll be keeping you awake for a while. Men have died in their sleep after blows like you two took. You just sit still and keep your heads as steady as you can. You won't be standing guard with the others for a while."

"That's good, Sir," Lavin answered. "I don't feel much like moving right now. Every time I turn my head I feel it slosh like an overfull bucket of water."

Stavin nodded his agreement, then winced in pain. When he could open his eyes again, he carefully looked around for Karvik. When he saw him, he called him over. "Kar, will you come over here, please?"

Karvik came over to face Stavin and grinned. "How's your head?"

"Dented but not broken. Kar, thank you for my life."

Karvik was surprised and showed it. "You don't have to thank me, Stave. Whatever else has happened, we've been friends forever. Besides," he said, pausing to lean closer, "
I
made
my
first kill before
you
did.
You
owe
me
a silver crown."

Stavin looked up and winced again. "You're not really going to hold me to that bet, are you?"

"Absolutely."

"Ouish!"
Stavin sighed. "The very first silver crown I get my hands on is yours."

"And speaking of first kills," Barvil said, having listened to Stavin and his son, "Karvik, Horvan, and Ivalin, come over here." The three young men hurried to face him.

"Horvan Kel'Erins, on this, your third expedition to the lowlands, you have made your first kill, using your sword to cut your opponent's throat. Ivalin Kel'Standis, on this, your second expedition to the lowlands, you have made your first kill, driving the point of your Dragon's Tongue through your opponent's eye and into his brain." He paused for a moment to smile proudly at his son. "Karvik Kel'Carin, on this, your first expedition to the lowlands, you have made your first kill, throwing your Dragon's Tongue like a spear and then following through and severing your opponent's spine."

Stepping back, he bowed to them formally before he continued. "According to the customs handed down from our ancestors, you may each paint a white chevron on your left shoulder." Turning, he faced Kahndar.

"Kahn, I believe that was your sixth kill. You may now paint your top chevron red and claim the title of Sergeant. Congratulations."

Kahndar smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you, Sir."

Further conversation was prevented by the appearance of the mid day meal. Well-seasoned chunks of meat in thick gravy were poured over a bed of boiled grain, and a kind of green legume was served on the side. Elain was there with the servers and approached Barvil as soon as everyone was served.

"Goodman Barvil, I've spoken to some—associates of mine about today's incident. The men who attacked you will be found and dealt with." She didn't smile, which made Barvil feel nervous for some reason. "I do have a question for you, if you wouldn't mind satisfying my curiosity?" At Barvil's nod, she continued. "You have three red stars on your shoulder. What does that signify?"

Barvil considered his answer carefully. "Each of the first five kills is a white chevron. The sixth kill is a red chevron. The eleventh kill is a second red chevron. It continues that way until the twenty-sixth kill. That is signified by a red star. I have eighty-three kills, counting the one today."

Elain was quiet for a moment, then bowed her head deeply. "I am ever so glad that I chose to cultivate a good relationship with your people, Goodman Barvil." She turned and walked to the back of the inn, pausing to grab a beer from the bar as she passed.

K
ARVIK COULDN'T CONTAIN HIMSELF ANYMORE AND
chortled as soon as the door closed behind Elain. "I think you shocked her, Dad. I don't think she's ever known what the stars meant, and I'll bet she's never seen anyone with three before."

"Since there are only fifteen men alive who have earned more than two, that's almost a certainty," Barvil answered absently, still watching the door that Elain had passed through.

Stavin grinned, but kept quiet as he listened to Karvik and Barvil. It took two stars to be eligible for election to the Elders Council. Only twenty-nine living men could claim that honor, and of that august company, only Charvil Kel'Horval could claim a fourth star. That was what made him a Warmaster, and consequently
the
Warmaster of the academy. Karlit, Stavin's father, could only claim the single hollowed star of a Warleader Fifth, and would have to make seven more kills to earn his second. Given Karlit's age, that was not likely to happen.

All of the men ate quickly, then Barvil gave out the guard assignments and Kahndar was taken upstairs to bed. Everyone, even Stavin and Lavin, kept their weapons close at hand.

The day passed quietly with people coming into the inn for a drink or a bite to eat. Several groups came in for a beer, but seemed much more interested in Stavin than their drinks. Finally, a man wearing the device of a Master Trader on his vest walked over and stopped by Barvil.

"Your pardon, good sirs, but I am looking for the Kel'Kavin Valley men. Are you they?"

Barvil turned to face him and bowed slightly. "We are. I am Barvil Kel'Carin, leader of this team."

"Yes, that was the name I was given. I am seeking guards for a trip to the Kingdom of Lux, to the capital city itself."

Barvil stroked his chin in thought. "That is a long journey, Master Trader. It takes us far from our home and there is no guarantee that we'll be able to find another caravan coming back this way. We could lose a good portion of our season if we don't."

"But I must have the best guards I can get!" the trader cried. "It is vital that my cargo reach Lux intact and on time. Please! I'll make it worth your risk. I'll pay seven silver crowns a day instead of the normal five. How's that?"

Barvil laughed. "Seven? For the risk of losing half a season? No, I couldn't do that. For the risk of not being paid on our return trip, twenty silvers a day."

"Twenty!"
the trader shrieked. "You'd bankrupt me! I wouldn't have to worry about bandits on the road—you'd already be with me! I might consider eight."

"I might consider swimming the Zel'Horgan in my armor, but that doesn't mean I'd actually do it." Barvil laughed. "I would consider seventeen. Plus meals, of course."

"Oh, of course," the trader said, throwing up his hands. "Of course meals are included. Would you like mountain venison? Plains bison? Deep sea fish flown fresh on dragon-back to your plate? You'd rob me before the journey even began and save the bandits the trouble. You expect such a princely fee for one old man and a bunch of untried boys?"

Barvil leaned forward so his face was just a hand-span from the trader's. "Only one of my men has yet to make his first kill, and that young man has proven his courage before a far harsher judge than any man. He is also the real reason you are here. For the insult you have given my men, fifteen silver crowns a day, plus meals, or turn and walk away. I am through bargaining with you."

"This is outrageous!" the little man cried, and a new voice agreed.

"It certainly is, Harvar," a large man said from near the door. "I was first to voice an interest in hiring these men, and here you are, poaching my contract."

"You have no contract with these warriors, Eldan!" Harvar shouted.

"Nor have you, but I was given first contact rights by the Guild. You've tried to cheat me and I'll be having a word with the Guild Masters before the sun sets. You see if I don't."

"You're both fools," a woman's voice said from the back of the inn, and they all turned to face her. "Greedy fools, squabbling like children. Warrior Barvil, I am Master Trader Sahren Kel'Vandar, of the free Kavadian House of Zel'Vandar. What these fools won't tell you—"

"Shut up, you slut!" both traders shouted in unison.

"—is that Friend Stavin will save them at least ten gold crowns in tax and tolls just by being with them."

Harvar shouted, "You're not a Master Trader in this kingdom!"

"You are not a member of the Guild!" Eldan agreed.

"And for that I pay extra tax and toll," Sahren said with a frown.

"Now listen here, you miserable little—" Eldan said as he advanced on her.

Elain stopped him dead in his tracks with a look. "You'd best not complete that thought, Eldan Fel'Dardan," she said softly but in an iron-hard tone. "Not in my inn." Her giddy persona had been replaced by something as cold and dangerous as a cobra.

Eldan looked at her and stepped back, swallowing convulsively. "As you say, Madam Elain," he said, keeping his eyes focused on the floor.

"I have taken an interest in these men and especially young Friend Stavin." Turning back to Barvil, Elain continued. "Sahren has spoken the bare truth, Goodman Barvil. Friend Stavin is worth as much to a trader as the rest of you combined. His status will save a trader tax and tolls crossing Evandia's many bridges." She snorted delicately. "Harvar Fel'Loval will probably end up paying thirty gold crowns just to get out of the kingdom. Eldan will probably spend more since he's going to the Kingdom of High Zamaria. He'll have more rivers and mountain gorges to cross."

"I am aware of Stavin's value, Madam Elain," Barvil said. "How is it that you know so much about these traders' business?"

Elain considered him for a moment before replying. "I have many sources of information, Goodman Barvil. There is little trade that takes place in this city that I don't know about."

Barvil looked into her eyes and decided that he didn't want to know any more. He bowed deeply before asking, "Could you make a recommendation for us?"

Elain smiled and looked toward Trader Sahren. "Sahren is here at my invitation. I have known her for more years than either of us will admit to owning, and I trust her with a knife at my back."

Barvil tilted his head at that last phrase. It meant that Elain trusted Sahren completely, even in matters of life and death, but it was also an ancient oath of support in times of trouble. Barvil had once said those same words about Charvil.