Lorik (The Lorik Trilogy) (2 page)

“Even one who took out two of Marsdyn’s thugs without breaking a sweat? Men like that make me nervous.”

“So why don’t you quit?” Lorik suggested. “There’s plenty of other things you could do.”

“Like what?” she teased. “You looking for someone to ride on your wagon through the bogs?”

“Come on, Vera, you’ve got skills. You can sew as good as the tailor. You know how to cook, how to brew mead and saka. You’re the best healer in the Point. You could make a living helping people, if you put your mind to it.”

“But the problem with all those things is that I’m not a man,” she said, trying to hide the disdain in her voice, but failing. She sat down on Lorik’s lap, with one arm draped over his shoulder. “There’s still one thing I can do that no man can,” she said with a smile.

She traced the outline of his jaw with a finger. His beard was thick and unkept, giving him a scruffy appearance, but Vera knew Lorik well. He had never mistreated her, as some of her other customers had. In her younger days she could have worked at one of the waterside bordellos, but she was a local girl. The men in Hassell Point knew her, knew that her parents had died of the wasting sickness when she was young. She had no one to arrange a marriage or pay a dowry for her; she couldn’t even get an apprenticeship since there were so few trades in the Marshlands. So she had turned to the one occupation that she could do. It was a viable option for a young woman, and many of the locals had begun their adult lives in just the same way. A woman could earn enough money to get out of Hassell Point if she wanted to, but Vera had stayed and kept working long after most wenches had given up the life.

“Well, you are very good at that,” he said, returning her smile.

“You should know,” she flirted.

“You could marry,” he said.

“Are you offering?”

Lorik grew uncomfortable. He loved Vera in a fashion, but so did half of the men in Hassell Point. Still, the thought of marrying her seemed wrong. He couldn’t say why. He didn’t think less of her because of her profession, but he couldn’t see her waiting for him at home either. He knew it wasn’t something she wanted, and he was too set in his ways. He liked living on his own. He liked taking his team through the Marshlands and north through the forests and farmlands. There was a wild sense of freedom in his life, and marriage, he feared, might put too many restrictions on him.

“You don’t want an old man like me,” he said.

“We’re the same age, Lorik,” she said playfully.

“In years, yes, but not in experience.”

“You think traveling through the marsh is more difficult than pleasing a man? Not all my companions are as easy going as you, Lorik.”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” he said. “I just meant I’m set in my ways. I’m only good in small doses. There are plenty of young men in this town who would marry you.”

“I don’t want to be a farmer’s wife,” she said, sipping from his cup. “You aren’t the only one who likes a little freedom. I make my own rules here. Quaid doesn’t steal my money and lets me do as I please.”

“Yes, Quaid is a good man, and I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m beginning to notice how glad you are,” she said flirtatiously.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not, I’m just good at what I do. I can tell how many drinks a man needs to get up the courage to pay my price.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is. And you only need one more drink,” she said, getting back to her feet. “Once you see that Marsdyn’s men are carried out, you’ll want to take me to my room.”

“It’s more comfortable,” he said.

“Of course it is, and the company is better, too.”

She went to refill her pitcher of mead. Lorik watched as she moved among the other patrons. She refilled a mug here and there, never coming too close to the men the other wenches were flirting with. Pazel had recovered on his own, although he still coughed as he helped Oky up and supported the injured man as they hobbled out of the tavern. Lorik watched them go and wondered how long it would take before the stranger joined Marsdyn’s gang. Lorik didn’t care for the Riders and didn’t pay them for protection. He didn’t keep goods, just equipment, and he could take care of himself. His horses were Shire horses, used for pulling heavy wagons. They were too slow for outlaws and too heavy to make it through the Marshlands unless you knew the firm paths. He knew how to stay out of trouble in Hassell Point and how to defend himself if he couldn’t. His preferred weapon was a traditional longbow, but he carried a small axe on his belt which he could easily use in a close fight.

Lorik was larger than most of the inhabitants of Hassell Point. He was used to loading and unloading his wagons, which was simply a necessary part of moving materials through the Marshlands. Depending on the rainfall, certain paths could grow soft, and he would be forced to remove some of his cargo, sometimes all of the cargo, so that his wagon wouldn’t bog down. He wasn’t a hulking specimen like Pazel or Oky, but he was stronger than he looked. His father had been a teamster, but once Lorik had gotten old enough he turned the business over to his son. Lorik’s mother had passed away several years ago and his father soon after that. Since then, Lorik had been on his own. He was a solitary person and didn’t mind being alone. He made a comfortable living hauling cargo, mostly large sacks of rice, through the Marshlands and returning with trade goods.

His team wasn’t as fast as sailing around to Quelton Bay, but it was safer. The pirates who frequented Hassell Point had no qualms about raiding the ships that sailed between the Point and other cities. He also charged much less than the trade ships and would take his payment from the money earned when he sold the rice at market. It was an occupation that kept him busy, and he enjoyed his life, although there were times when he wondered if there was something missing. He tried not to dwell on such thoughts, but long periods of being alone gave him plenty of time for introspection.

“I’m done drinking,” he said to Vera when she came back around.

“Ooo, does that mean what I think it means?” she teased.

He smiled. It wasn’t a broad grin, and his face certainly showed no cheerfulness, but she recognized it for what it was. He stood up and followed her through a small door that led to a set of rooms. In the back was a large room with plush furnishings. When Vera opened the door, she jumped back in surprise.

“Damn it, Grayson!” she shouted. “What are you doing here?”

The man in the chair had silver hair, but his face was smooth and wrinkle free. He was clean-shaven, and although he wore riding pants and the leather vest that marked him as a Rider, he also wore a silk shirt with flowing sleeves that tied at the wrists. He had no visible weapons, but he had a long, narrow dagger inside his vest and another in the leg of his right boot.

“What’s he doing here?” Grayson said.

“That’s none of your business,” Vera said. “You can’t just come into my rooms whenever you want to.”

“Who’s to stop me?” he said, his slate-colored eyes never leaving Lorik’s face.

Lorik didn’t speak. Seeing another man with Vera was hard, but he wasn’t naïve: he knew she got paid to spend time with men. That didn’t bother him over much; it was the possessive way Grayson spoke to her that really got under Lorik’s skin. He didn’t like the Riders, but he saw them as a necessary evil. They were outlaws, but they were familiar outlaws who occasionally helped the people of Hassell Point. Of course, that didn’t mean Lorik was happy about realizing they spent time with Vera.

“Grayson, leave,” she told him. “Now is not a good time.”

“And why is that? You like being with a filthy mud walker?”

Lorik’s anger ticked up a notch. He was not generally bothered by insults, but being called a mud walker, a derogatory term to describe people who lived or worked in the marshes, by a man who lived like a parasite off the hard work of those same people, was more than he could stomach.

“She said leave,” Lorik said. “I’d listen to her.”

Grayson stood up, his hand resting lightly on his stomach. In most people it would have been an innocent gesture, but Lorik knew the man was armed. He guessed correctly that the weapon was in the man’s vest.

“Vera,” Grayson said angrily. “Send him away.”

“Why don’t we both leave?” said Lorik, trying to calm the outlaw down.

“No,” said Vera angrily.

Lorik wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stay, or if she simply resented the loss of revenue if they both left.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Grayson said.

“Go have a drink, Grayson,” Vera urged. “You’ll still have time to visit me.”

Both men stared at each other, Grayson’s hand inching toward his vest.

“You better make that first strike count,” said Lorik, drawing the small axe that hung from his belt. “If you don’t, I’ll carve you up and feed you to the eels.”

“You really think you can threaten me?” Grayson said.

“It’s not a threat, just a statement of fact.”

“You’re a dead man, teamster.”

“Not by you,” Lorik smirked. “I don’t think you’re man enough without a gang behind you.”

“I’ll cut out your heart!” Grayson screamed.

Lorik didn’t answer. He simply pushed Vera against the wall of the narrow hallway with a gentle nudge. She didn’t resist.

“You’re nothing but a clumsy, old wagon driver. You sleep in the mud like a pig.”

“We talking or killing?” Lorik said in an icy tone that wasn’t wasted on Grayson.

The Rider was angry, but he was also afraid. He wasn’t used to direct conflict and preferred to stab his enemies in the back.

“I’m going to kill you,” Grayson said, trying to keep his voice from trembling and failing. “Vera, I’ll leave, but you better make sure this fool has a good time. It’ll be his last.”

Grayson stalked between them, his face blushing with shame. Lorik watched until the outlaw left the narrow hallway. Then he turned to Vera, who looked worried.

“I’m sorry if I’m getting you in trouble,” he said. “I could leave.”

“No, I don’t want you to leave,” she said. “Besides, he’s probably waiting in the tavern for you. Let him have a few drinks and cool down. He’ll forget he’s angry soon enough, although I don’t see why you have to goad them so.”

“I didn’t goad him,” Lorik said. “He’s a bully. I called his bluff. It’s no different from when we were kids. You remember that farmer’s boy who started picking on you in essentials school after your folks died?”

“His name was Rufus,” Vera said, leading Lorik into the room.

She pulled him into a padded chair and began massaging his shoulders.

“Yes, Rufus. I had forgotten that. He was a bully, and there’s only one way to deal with people like that.”

“I remember he was several years older than you, and you broke his nose,” she said.

“He shouldn’t have been picking on you.”

“My point is you push back too hard. You should try using words instead of fighting. You’re a better person than that, Lorik.”

“I used words,” he said.

“No, you used threats.”

“I used what was necessary.”

“I could have talked him out of the room, and you wouldn’t have to worry about getting a knife in your back.”

He pulled her around the chair and onto his lap, his arms holding her close and feeling the slight tremble in her body through the thin fabric of her dress.

“I’m not the one who’s worried,” he told her gently.

She kissed him. It wasn’t passionate as much as familiar. She knew she didn’t have to pretend with Lorik; she had known him too long. They were good friends and he was a good customer. In a different time or different place, that might have seemed almost perverse, but in Hassell Point it was a comfort.

“Thank you,” she said in a sad voice. “There’s not many men who would fight for my honor, not anymore.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Lorik said, smiling up at her.

“I think maybe it’s time I leave the Point,” she said. “When I’m ready, will you take me?”

“Of course I will.”

“I’ll be leaving this life behind me,” she said, her voice a little nervous. “You understand?”

“I understand and I approve,” he said.

“You’re a mystery, Lorik.”

“Not really, I’m just a simple man.”

“There’s nothing simple about you.”

It was his turn to smile. “Still, I don’t have any secrets from you, Vera. You know that.”

“Yes, I know that,” she said, and kissed him again.

Chapter 3

Marsdyn led Stone out into the street. Hassell Point was not a major trade center. Everything was built around the harbor and most of the inhabitants were temporary visitors, sailors, pirates, or outlaws. The town had been created to ship rice from the Marshlands northwest to Quelton Bay on the border between Ortis and Falxis. From there the grain tax, which equaled half of the rice harvested, could be sent to Yorick Shire, where the Earl of Yorick, the official Lord of the Marshlands, lived. The rest could be taken and sold wherever the price was highest.