Tales Of Grimea (10 page)

Adra looked upset at Murata’s words. “That’s
not how it works, though,” she said, perhaps wanting to defend
Percy.

“I know that, but
they
don’t.” The
man’s pointed all around in a vague manner. “And just in case, he
can’t be here when you play Baki. My business relies on the
gambling more than anything else, and I can’t have people thinking
their hands are being read.” Adra bristled, and the man added, “Or
do you want me telling everyone that you scratch your right thumb
whenever you get two archers and a tank in one hand?”

Immediately the fledgling merchant went
deathly quiet. Hwosh was impressed with Murata’s speedy analysis
and decisions. That way, Adra could still come and play, and nobody
would lose. He looked at the man with newfound respect, and
remembered what uncle Salim had said about his gambling skills. He
suddenly understood why no one wanted to play against him anymore.
The warrior could tell Adra was wondering if that was actually a
thing she did subconsciously. At length, she asked, “How did you
know that?” and the bartender smiled.

“I’m not one for violent enforcement,” he
stated, and Hwosh remembered he’d heard of something similar about
Murata. “However, I have my own tools to get costumers in line.”
Adra grumbled, but there was truly little to do against the man
from Regalia and his sharp mind. Good spirits were kept however,
and in a few minutes Percy joined them at the bar counter.

When the three left Murata’s tavern far later
than Hwosh intended, Adra grumbled to her man about what Murata had
said, but Percy took it in good humour. “I can see his point,” he
said brightly as they made their way through the darkened dusty
street. “People don’t know much about psions, and there’s hostility
towards us all the time. He’s just trying to protect me and his
business at the same time. Nobody wants to lose customers.” Far
behind them were the lights of pubs and taverns, and there was
little music lingering in the air. There were fewer Lorians to be
seen now, because there were always those who slept early in order
to wake up for their sunrise prayer. Still, there were enough
passers-by in all manner of clothing and looks to remember what
city you were in.

“If you say so…” murmured Adra. “I just wish
they’d take the time to understand you instead of just being
so...”

“Ugh?”

“Exactly.” The two were now walking a bit
ahead of Hwosh, and he gladly gave them space. It was true that
they were his only friends here, but they belonged to each other
first. The thought gave him a pang and thoughts of melancholy
chased each other around his mind’s confines haphazardly.

The warrior said goodbye to his two friends
at their door and then walked over to his own place. Whereas Percy
Verde and Adra rented a one bedroom apartment with an extra living
room, Hwosh’s lacked that extra space. The man lived simply, and
the only high quality piece of furniture in his room was his bed. A
man can’t live without a comfortable bed boasting pillows large
enough to sink into. He changed into sleeping clothes –which were
actually just old clothes- and took his ring and money pouch out of
his pocket, placing them on a rickety writing table that hadn’t
been written at for years, or so it looked. After triple checking
that the door was locked, Hwosh laid himself upon his bed and tried
hard to silence his mind. It was only after an hour of tossing and
turning that the warrior remembered the day’s worries had
completely made him forget about uncle Salim’s warning for
Percy.

Five minutes before eight, Hwosh was standing
outside Splinter as agreed, feeling more than slightly nervous. He
hadn’t mentioned it to anyone other than Percy and Adra, but the
man had only ever done jobs for uncle Salim before. What if he
botched it up? How was he supposed to act around his new employer,
and how was the new dynamic supposed to work after –and if– the job
was a success? The sun was starting to think about glaring
earnestly and people bustled about in true Lorian fashion around
the warrior, paying him little heed.

Hwosh Ru’ub was about to turn around when he
felt a slight push against his mind. He whirled to find Percy
coming from the left, possibly bleary eyed and less cheerful than
usual but still in all his blue glory. Hwosh fought hard to keep
his glad look off his face when he said, “What are you doing here?
I thought you never wake up before ten.”

“Adra told me about this new job with Murata.
Sceggle feathers, huh? I thought you’d like to have a friend around
to go inside with you.”

“Oh. I, uh. Um… thanks. I was starting to get
worried.”

“I know, buddy.”

“Mind reading? I thought you couldn’t do it
like that easily.”

“Can’t. But I don’t need to be a mind reader
to know my best friend. Other than Adra, of course, but you
understand that she’s friend number one.”

“…You’re my best friend too.”

With that said, the two friends then squared
off side by side and went inside.

The agreement with Murata went much more
smoothly than Hwosh expected it to. All the bartender really wanted
was four Sceggles with their beaks intact (in order to preserve the
magical properties present in their feathers.) The man even joked
about getting Hwosh on to do more work out west if all went well,
and foregoing some of his usual suppliers. The two then made their
way back to their apartment, Hwosh to get ready and Percy to get
some extra precious hours of sleep.

“I think I’ll go today,” deliberated Hwosh,
eliciting a surprised glance from the Indellektian.

With a hand scratching under his neck, he
asked, “This early? Murata said he needed the feathers in a
week.”

The warrior thought about how to put what he
thought, then said, “It’s just in case. I might find something
better than expected.” He didn’t mention that despite Percy and
Adra being the only people besides uncle Salim whom he liked
spending extended amounts of time with, the warrior was better made
for alone time. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. About the poison,”
his voice went low, and the warrior found a near bench under a palm
tree. The two sat in the shade, listening to children playing
around a cat shaped statue. Despite its silly rounded shape, that
cat statue represented a guardian spirit of the Niner god Serip,
ruler of knowledge and keeper of secrets. “Uncle Salim didn’t tell
me who it was for, but he told me that the only reason someone
would use that sort of poison is to get caught. He… also told me to
warn you.

“Warn me?” scoffed Percy, “Of what?”

“I don’t know, but if it came from him then
it’s serious. I’m worried.”

“A natural state,” remarked the man then
smiled by the way of apology. Nearby a fountain could be heard,
mingling with the playfulness of youth. Hwosh had rarely been like
that as a child, for after his parents had died and his uncle took
everything owned, the then young boy was left as a pauper. Only
Uncle Salim’s mercy had saved him, and Hwosh learned early that
sometimes, laws needed to be enforced and protected. That was what
first spawned his stubborn fascination with swordsmanship. He’d
asked uncle Salim to punish him by way of beatings, and had gone
out of his way to incur the old man’s wrath, although the wizened
man never did things out of anger. It took only a few months for
the man to understand Hwosh Ru’ub and apprentice him to a warrior
hunter, and it had satisfied the young boy’s ambition enough that
he stopped looking for beatings by way of disobedience. Uncle Salim
was his first home, and he finally had a second by the name of
Percy Verde. Now, that home was under unknown duress.

Percy said “Regardless, it’s a fascinating
puzzle. A poison as if to prove a point, a kind old man with a
dangerous brother, and an inconsequential old psion receiving
warnings, although not about the aforementioned poison.”

“Uncle Salim would never help hurt you. Never
an innocent, that’s how Mikhlab and their father have been able to
stay popular for so long despite what they’re willing to do.”

“Hmm… I might heed the warning, but maybe it
would be best if I go visit your uncle first and see if he’d be
willing to shed light on the situation. What are you going to
do?”

“I’ll go with you. I need to go tell him that
I’ve gotten an outside job, just in case he has something planned
for me.” With that, the two went on for home, agreeing to meet in
the afternoon.

When Hwosh had went and gotten enough
supplies to last him a week, he spent the rest of his morning
oiling up his leather and sword, checking up on his physique for
any latent injuries from his last voyage, and paying up on his rent
of a hundred and fifty Regalians before going out. He almost bumped
into Adra, who had a bag of groceries in one hand. “Congrats on the
new job!” she exclaimed before informing him that Percy was just
getting ready. When the old man came out, Hwosh noticed that he’d
dressed up a little finer than usual: His long hair was brushed
extra fine and a new pair of darkened spectacles adorned his hawk
like nose. Even more strange was the new pointy hat upon his head,
for it had a pattern of white filled in stars on it. Naturally,
Hwosh didn’t comment on his friend’s choice of clothing, and the
two went south, towards Themra.

“You know? I never asked,” said Hwosh as they
neared the oasis. First in line was a Regalian knight in well-kept
plate armour, who proceeded to allow an old man to fill up his
drinking urn first. “How long have you been living in Lor?”

“A couple of years,” answered Percy as the
bald man beckoned the now confused knight over to drink first.
“Long enough to figure that one out,” added the old man with a
finger pointed at the two. The scene was something Hwosh had
witnessed multiple times, and which Adra had explained to him as
well, her being mostly Regalian. Whereas there people thought of
chivalry as something young men offer to women and the elderly, in
Lor it was a universal concept. You couldn’t offend someone by
offering them your seat and thus implying weakness, but there was
no guarantee they wouldn’t just offer it back to you with a wide
smile. It was considered polite and Lorians were more than willing
to waste time going back and forth in that manner. This time the
old man won, and the knight bent over to fill his water pouch
looking slightly dishevelled as those around laughed. Hwosh stopped
Percy to pick a few dates from a nearby tree.

When they neared Uncle Salim’s home, he had
just finished feeding four children as well as an older man with a
white ring, and they were helping him clean up. Uncle Salim wasn’t
too upset with Hwosh for not coming earlier and eating with him,
but he still received a slight earful. “Here,” he said finally,
motioning the other man over, “Say hello to your older brother,
Mukhlis. This is the youngest, Hwosh.” The two shook hands, and he
asked a few questions of the warrior. The man had pitch black eyes
and was pale of skin, which perhaps hinted at Indellektian blood.
“And what do you do?” asked Hwosh back, hoping that he sounded
pleasant enough. Whenever one of the Baneen met him, he turned
quickly into the butt of jokes, especially when uncle Salim was
around.

Surprisingly, instead of Mukhlis answering, a
voice came from behind Hwosh, saying, “He’s Lor’s ambassador in
Indellekt.” When the warrior looked around, he saw that it was
Percy who’d spoken. The old man came up from behind him slowly, a
look akin to wonder in his eyes. “I know you said that some of your
brothers-“

“We’re not really brothe-“

“Are influential, but I didn’t think master
Salim was
this
impressive. In Indellekt, Mukhlis Matr is
such an impressive wizard that he’s the first Lorean to earn place
in our ruling parliament. Master, my name is Percy, pleased to meet
you finally.”

“Ah, old Percy Verde, I’ve heard so much!
This is the grizzled geezer I told you about, boy!” Uncle Salim
ignored Percy’s outstretched hand and embraced him instead. “And
believe me, Mukhlis has earned his position with no help from a
tired old coot like me. Here, have a seat.” For a few minutes the
two old men squabbled over where to sit, each offering the other
the best spot on the floor. At long last Percy lost, giving in and
sitting down with uncle Salim coming in next to him. Hwosh was of
course last in line, and he was stuck next to Mukhlis, who
bombarded him with questions about his training and work. Upon
finding out that he’d spent long living in uncle Salim’s home, he
laughed. “Indeed, he did that with all of us. You seem like a
bright boy, I’m sure you’ll do well.”

Hwosh’s attention wandered over to Percy just
as the man stood up, saying, “So, what’s your favourite spot in
Lor, master?” The man went walked over as if to look at something,
and Hwosh realized he was fascinated by the cooling system
here.

“Themra, probably. It’s the only place that
hasn’t changed much in all these years.”

“Hahah, as nostalgic an answer as I could
have hoped for,” retorted the psion, now moving over to the white
writing table, the one well-crafted thing in the old man’s humble
residence. “I hope I stay here long enough to say something like
that… I hope Lor remains safe for me and others from Indellekt for
many years to come.” For an instant nobody moved, then Mukhlis
said, “Part of my job, mister Verde, is to make sure that remains
the case. I assure you, Lor and Indellekt shall remain friends for
many long years, no matter what happens.” This last part was said
with fire not unlike Lor’s sun.

After that, the conversation went back to
lighter topics. Uncle Salim congratulated him on his job and bade
him well. Hwosh and his companion left uncle Salim and Mukhlis a
few hours before sundown, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Just
before reaching Themra, Hwosh went over to a nearby bush and pulled
out a pack that he’d left there when they came through earlier.
“You read him, didn’t you? What did you find out?”