Wolf's-head, Rogues of Bindar Book I (39 page)

Baus shrugged
carelessly. “The clod had it coming—besides, what better way to
practice my ganglestick craft than taking opportunities when they
come?”

“True.”
Valere’s smile was watery. “You seem to have everything all sewn
up, don’t you?” The big seaman’s face wrinkled; he heaved a gust of
laughter. Feigning a yawn, he spread arms wide only to catch Baus
in a great bear hug. Wrestling him to the ground, he razzed his
hair.

Baus was in no
mood for roughhousing and he flashed the ganglestick up toward
Valere’s neck. The seaman stiffened, lay still.

Baus brushed
himself off with dignity, smoothing his ruffled cloak. He plopped
himself on his bed and contented himself to munch on Velnar’s
sweetcakes, while Valere gaped hollowly up at him like a beached
gobbler. Baus’s mind had a way of drifting pleasantly back to
Delizra. He could not help but wonder what the beauty was doing now
and how he could maximize his stay at Silsoor.

II

A tap-tapping
on the door grew. Valere twisted under the covers, offering a
creaking yawn. A moon-faced servant was wanting to take orders for
the noonday repast. Through the small hatch in the window, she
mouthed muted appeals.

Baus winced.
Lunch? The quiet morning seemed to have gone by all too quickly.
Groggily, he began to don some clothes, at which point he
remembered he owned fresh garments: lacy hose and trimmings and
leather shoes. The former reminded him all too much of the
effeminate garb worn by Hysgode, which he bypassed. He kept his own
brown breeches and applied the mauve doublet.

With an almost
frugal ministration he donned a gold trimmed cravat, which he
snugged loosely about his neck, and several complimentary
ceremonial medallions which he pinned on his chest. Valere, who had
drifted back into torpor, was jerked awake with Baus’s sharp rap on
the brow. The seaman wiped at his cheeks and smoothed his
fox-beard. In his experience the task seemed simple; why wear
pompous finery when one could wear the same old dungarees?

Baus deemed it
prudent to set their stories straight prior to engaging in any
discourse in the parlour. For brief moments the two arranged their
stories, concurring that any mention of Heagram or a prison scandal
would run invariably counterproductive to their common aims. They
nodded in accord and allowed the chambermaid Seela to escort them
to the common room where the hero Tulesio sat imperturbably on a
comfortable couch next to Delizra by the fire.

The maid
curtsied, exited with polite efficiency.

Intrigued by
mystery of the strangers, Delizra asked of their travels. Valere
and Baus brushed off the enquiries with easy urbanity. In daylight
and with proper attire and coiffure, the damsel was even more of a
beauty than Baus imagined. Her slender face was unassuming,
slightly cherubic, yet her pale gold eyes were as sensuous as any.
She wore a loose-fitting dress, a rebellious noblewoman’s sash, all
pale orange with saucy sleeves and silken tassels that wrapped
seductively around the midriff. Enjoying the moment of its impact,
she blinked artlessly. The slit was open at the neck, poised to
casually reveal a furrow of shapely cleavage, amidst youthful, pale
ivory skin. Her wavy brown hair shone in the firelight; her
glistening tongue darted in and out in suggestive starts as she
conversed in tones pitched to evoke a subtlety of flirtatiousness,
rather than formal colloquy. A pair of rangy legs reached up to
support a trim, pleasing haunch.

How long had
Baus been ensconced in prison? Too long. Neither was Valere exempt
from the maid’s allure, but he remained controlled, and to his
credit, a source of Baus’s surprise.

After warming
themselves by the fire, Tulesio took them to the refectory. They
dined on a light brunch of mealcakes and hot tea. Baus explained to
the group that he and Valere were not the rakehellish swashbucklers
they thought them to be—merely ordinary, honest wayfarers looking
for simple postings on the docks, possibly even a small sea
assignment. “Only recently did my colleague Valere and I even make
each other’s acquaintance,” declared Baus.

“A pity,”
remarked Delizra.

“’Tis. It
amazes me the meaningful connections we make in everyday life.”

“In Krintz,”
Tulesio counselled, “‘dock-workers’ are known to be scarce, and I
fear you must travel to Nosoheath or even Pirate’s Point to attract
those types of contracts.”

Baus shook his
head with regret. “I suppose we must.” He put on a doleful face as
if accustomed to dealing with vicissitudes on a daily basis.
Delizra’s voice became impish. “You are all seemingly doughty men,
but surely you are not put out with the lack of female company in
such a life—” She paused and Baus detected a strain to her
coquettishness. Loneliness?

“At Krintz,”
Tulesio continued stiffly, “doughty men as yourselves would be
better off tanning hides or apprenticing to Jeoulf the Smith. A
wealth of shoe-tapping and bellow-work exists this time of
year.”

Baus nodded
happily. “These are worthy enterprises and we will look into
them..”

Delizra shot
Baus a sharp glance. “You say you are seafarers from Heagram?”

“Yes, I
believe that was what I mentioned.”

“So, why did
you leave so abruptly? Neither of you barely seem to own the
clothes on your back, not to mention luggage or any other
possessions.”

“True, but not
everybody has the luxury of a wegmor and fine saddlebags,” Baus
responded. “Both of us are due for larger fish to fry and hence
must make ourselves available to more universal opportunities.”

Delizra
twirled her locks with sceptical inquiry. “That sounds serious.
Hysgode is right—you two have about you vagabondish airs.” She
shifted her eyes narrowly at the captain. “Are your goals as
comparably ephemeral as Baus’s, Captain?”

Valere combed
at his beard with placid reflection. “My plans remain indefinite.
Having for many years commanded my own vessel, I have a mind to
return to seafaring—at least when I secure the funds to appropriate
a suitable sailing vessel.”

“Very
ambitious!” cried Delizra, clapping her hands. “How large was your
last vessel?”

Valere’s eyes
lifted up to the ceiling. “Oh—forty feet—even fifty. The
Illimmer
boasted a fifteen foot beam, a fat belly, a main
sail like a gull’s breast. She was due for re-hauling in Brislin
and taken off the water three winters ago. A shame. Sheer age had
caught up to her, broadsided her from behind . . .” He trailed off
with an actor’s attempt at glumness. The disclosure was not far
from the truth and Valere allowed himself a sigh to make any
stretches seem more plausible.

“It appears,”
continued Delizra, “that like Baus, you are destined for a life on
the sea?”

Baus nodded
thoughtfully. “This is exactly Captain Valere’s plan. He has been
meditating on it for years, haven’t you, Valere?”

Valere wagged
his head uncertainly.

“Delizra, you
are an astute person and I must commend you for your intuitive
grasp! It is rare indeed the charming and perceptive aura I observe
in the likes of you.”

The comment
was flattering but strangely the Vulde’s daughter seemed to slip
into a mode of deeper brooding.

The mystery
was at last dispelled when Delizra herself revealed how insipid it
was at Silsoor. “I hate this gloomy place. I shall miss you both
when you take your leave! You saved me from a molester;
furthermore, we don’t receive often visitors in Krintz. Surely you
can stay a bit longer, before embarking on these frightful
journeys?”

Valere
flushed. “I believe we could consider an extended visit, if you are
included as part of it.”

Baus shifted
uncomfortably. “Though Valere is known for his eccentric
whimsies.”

The foursome
sipped tea. Seela took further orders and removed the dishes.

As breakfast
drew to a close, Tulesio offered his guests fresh towels. Summoning
the butler Velnar, he took it upon himself to collect a basin of
hot water so that Baus and Valere could bathe and scrub themselves
down in the sun room with white lye and cox-combed brush.

Early in the
afternoon the two dried themselves off, feeling much refreshed,
then they returned to the parlour. Tulesio was instructed by the
Vulde to be their escort—an excursion to the bazaar in order to
seek out a respectable haberdasher.

An appropriate
establishment showed itself two doors down from the central square,
where they spied many narrow side alleys, busy with folk and
trades-people of all ages. In the yellowing light, people went
about their business hawking wares and hauling goods. Baus and
Valere squinted awkwardly into the bustling throng, finding it
difficult to keep up with Tulesio’s strides. They disliked the
irony of last night’s escapades, thinking to keep a low
profile.

A stir of
commotion was forming around the obelisk where the Dakkaw was still
heavily secured. ’Twas an area which Tulesio strictly avoided, for
the villagers buzzing about were a crass bunch, carrying baskets of
turnip peels and potatoes to pitch at the Dakkaw. Others commanded
carts pitched full of geese, goats and meal sacks to take to
market. The villagers stared at the newcomers. Seeing that they
were accompanied by Tulesio of the Vulde’s House, they became
somewhat assured, for they were under the Vulde’s care. Snatches of
conversation came to Baus’s ears—that the two were indeed
heroes
who had helped capture the famous ‘Dakkaw’, the
fabulous menace which had been harassing their village for years.
Youngsters crowded close to ogle and bait the ogre who stood roped
against Woybur’s obelisk snarling and spewing oaths. Instigators
appeared in small knots, but the pack grew to more profound
numbers, committing reckless acts upon the prisoner.

Some few came
to pat the visitors on the back and offer them
congratulations—ruddy-faced men and plump women, and the
commendations Baus and Valere received were not inconsiderable. The
knowledge of the conflicting motives championing yester-eve’s foray
was uncomfortable.

Tulesio led
them the long way around the plaza’s north-east corner. Baus
watched as smokes of a smithy curled in seashell rings out of a low
stone lean-to. The tin roof slanted high to a vaulting
soot-blackened wall. Hammer rings signalled the shaping of wegmor
shoes and whishing air from bellows and roaring flames from
furnaces implied cooling of instruments and farmers’ tools. A tall
peaked building crowded itself toward a stockyard, denoting what
Baus guessed a hostelry. Adjacent the carpenters’ shops was a small
schoolhouse with a belled roof. Across the plaza loomed evidences
of a bakery, winery, butchery, a pawn shop, three pubs—namely, the
Laughing Minstrel
,
Fanfare’s Bane
and
Haggleman’s
Retreat
. The plaza was fringed by a stone-towered, aging
courthouse, after which stretched more modest residences up the
hill and thin bungalows with oddly domed roofs.

The tailor was
able to see them immediately. He was a portly man with round face
and paunch. He studied them for a while before reassuring them that
he could fit their needs. He scratched his high domed forehead,
measuring them with tape and motioned his assistant to fetch the
best fabrics.

Valere,
outfitted in a costume of baggy-black pantaloons, was also supplied
a neat white bow tie with snazzy, wine-coloured velour shirt and
loose, flared sleeves. Baus was ordained a more ordinary green
poncho decked with fine auburn woollen overcoat, grey-green
breeches and brown designer boots. Tulesio endowed the tailor five
silver pieces, a stipend no doubt compliments of the Lord Vulde.
The chamberlain took their old rags and wrapped them in an old sack
to be fed to the fires.

Pleased with
their dashing new looks, Baus and Valere expressed regret at the
loss of their old clothes but exhibited some interest in visiting
one of the pubs before returning. Tulesio obliged. He took them to
Haggleman’s
, ironically, the same not far from the fountain
they had passed the previous evening. The interior was
pot-darkened. Quiet and panelled with red resin-ed larch, the pub
showed seats set in a wide circle along a chest-high slab of aged
beobar. Cressets lit the opposite wall. A warm fire on the central
wall crackled above which and a pair of polished wegmor antlers
hung high from the wall.

Three
tradesmen sipped dark-coloured ale. Carpenters or woodworkers
likely for all the sawdust on their jerkins. On a signal from
Tulesio, the bartender poured them all mugs of ale and shots of
crimson liquor. He was a trim, bearded man with black oily eyes.
Over a tittle of rank larch-whiskey, Baus complimented Tulesio on
his choice of beverage and slipped in a compliment about Delizra
and her impressive bearing.

“Bearing is
the least thing I would attribute to her,” Tulesio grunted wryly,
almost upsetting his beer. He upended his in swift order and
clapped the mug down with speed.

“Perhaps, I
was just testing the waters,” suggested Baus.

“Relax,
friend,” chuckled Tulesio. “I won’t tattle to our good lord Hysgode
of your true feelings for our lovely ‘princess’. Yes, she is a
dazzler, Delizra; I even think her name was a calculated slip on
her parents’ part—Delizra for
Desire
. I confess that ever
since I was a lad I have had a crush on her. Can you imagine? A
noblewoman! And I, but a servant. The girl has every right to have
the best. Yet she has suffered much in her days, not leastly, the
scrutiny of every swain from all over the village, from lord to
letch. Now she can barely venture out of her home without being
ogled. For seventeen years I have served the Vulde, and truth be
told, I fear for his House.”