Last Knight (The Champion Chronicles Book 2) (20 page)

He closed his eyes, speaking words to his master, asking the Adversary to help him not die.  He promised that he would never do this again, but he knew as soon as he whispered the words, that they were meaningless.  The Adversary could not hear him, or if he did, he surely did not care.

The last thought that he had before exhaustion overtook him was that he knew why there were no more wizards in the world.  The power of magic was just too great for man to control.

Chapter Fifteen

The creak of the wooden floor woke Berrien up.  Peter and Iffus had rented a room above a dilapidated tavern on the edge of the city’s slums.  It was the perfect place to get lost because only the most desperate of travelers would take up residence in this place.  The rooms were drafty and uncomfortable.  There was no fireplace in the room and the heat from the main floor got lost well before it reached the room.  Fortunately Peter and Iffus had been able to procure plenty of warm blankets.  Berrien just wondered how cold it would get once the middle of winter came. 

              But then again, he hoped to be gone by then.  Cold was one thing, but living in both cold and poverty was not for him.

              There were four rooms on the second level and only one of the other rooms was currently occupied.  At this time of night, it was unlikely that someone was moving into the third room.  He waited patiently as the creaking grew closer and then stopped just outside his door.

              There was only one bed, a wide bed that could fit all three of them.  But Berrien had claimed it for his own, especially since Iffus had not yet been found.  Peter seemed fine with sleeping on the floor, as he insisted it was more comfortable than too he was used to.

              The door suddenly burst open, slamming against the wall.  The light of an oil lamp in the hall kept the two figures in shadows.  But Berrien easily recognized the large form of Peter and suspected the other must be Iffus. 

              Peter stumbled into the room, holding up Iffus.  At first Berrien thought that Iffus might be injured, but he let out a loud and smelly belch.  Then he started laughing uncontrollably.

              “I found him,” Peter said.  He led him over to the bed where Iffus fell onto it face first.

              Berrien jumped up out of the bed.  “What are you doing?”

              “He is way past drunk.  He needs to sleep it off.”

              “Where did you find him?” Berrien asked.

              “Towards the city walls there are a number of small establishments that serve some very potent brews. It seems he’s been holed up in one for the past week.”

              Iffus rolled over and looked at Berrien with blurry eyes.   He smiled and said, “Who are you?”

              “You’re drunk,” Berrien said.  “You are a disgrace!”

              “I’m Iffus,” he said.  “I’m happy to meet you, Mr. Drunk!”  Then he burst into laughter.

              “What do you we do with him?”

              “I’d like to kill him,” Berrien said.  “But I will need him.  Let him sleep it off.  He’ll need some solid food in the morning.  Eggs, bread, and bacon.  Now help me move him onto the floor.”

              “He seems right comfortable there,” Peter said.

              Berrien gave Peter a harsh look.  “You woke me from my sleep, and I’m tired.  Help me move him so I can get back to sleep.”

              “The bed’s big enough…”

              “He’s drunk.  He won’t care.  Now grab his legs and get him on the floor!”

***

It was midday when Iffus started to stir.  Berrien had no sympathy and forced the former centurion off the floor.  He dunked his head into a bucket of cold water, which woke him up, but also angered him.

              “What was that for?” Iffus cried out.

              “You’re drunk!” Berrien said.  “And you smell.  Change your clothes and meet me downstairs.  You need food in you.”

              Iffus looked over at Berrien with bloodshot eyes and said, “I don’t even know you.  Who are you?”

              “Hibold sent me.  Now we have much to do today, and I don’t have time to babysit you.  So you can sober up and get some food in you, or you go back to Taran.  I can’t use a drunk.”

              Berrien stalked out of the room, slamming the door.  He went straight downstairs to the main room.  Although it was midday meal time, the place was empty except for a single patron eating a plate of bread in a table near the front door.  There were many long tables in the center of the room, but Berrien chose one near the back so that they could talk in private.

              The innkeeper came over with a mug of frothy ale and set it in front of Berrien.  “A plate of eggs and bread.  Bacon if you have it, too.”

              The innkeeper grunted a reply and shuffled off to get his only paying customer some food.

              Iffus came down a few minutes later looking as haggard as a drunk could.  The fresh clothes didn’t help as he still smelled of alcohol and other bodily fluids.

              Berrien wrinkled his nose when he sat down.  “You are going to need a bath before we go to the castle.”

              “The castle?”

              “We have business up there this afternoon.  Peter is out getting new clothes for us.  Fine silk linens for me and some nice leather armor for you and him.  You two are going to be my body guards so I’ll need you to look the part.”

              Iffus shook his head to try and clear his mind.  “What are you talking about?  Slow down.  My head hurts.”

              Iffus reached for the mug of ale, but Berrien snatched it away.  “New rules.  Number one, no more of this. I need you sober at all times.  Number two, whatever I say goes.  Understand?”

              “What did you say your name was?”

              “Berrien.  Hibold sent me.”

              Iffus nodded his head and repeated, “Hibold.  The crafty little devil.  What is he up to?  He left us high and dry some weeks ago.”

              “What exactly did he have you do?”

              “A little of this and a little of that.  Mostly just keeping our ears open and giving messages to any Taran caravans or ships heading back to Taran.”

              “Spies, huh?”

              Iffus glanced around, but no one was in earshot for their low voices.  “Pretty much.”

              “What else?”

              “That’s about it.  Just keeping our ears open for good, juicy information.”

              “Tell me about the wells.”

              Iffus glanced away quickly, but forced his eyes to come back.  He smiled and then chuckled.  “I don’t know what you are talking about?”

              “Listen, I don’t care, but I have to know.”

              Iffus shook his head.  “Nothing.  I don’t know what…”

              As quick as a cat, Berrien reached across the table, knocking the mug of ale onto the floor.  He grabbed Iffus by the throat and pulled him forward.  Iffus was not much bigger than Berrien, but he wasn’t nearly as strong.  Berrien’s vice grip constricted Iffus’ throat, keeping him from breathing.  “No lies.  Ever.  Do you understand?”

              Eyes wide with fear, Iffus nodded.  Berrien released his grip.

              “That hurt!” Iffus said, rubbing his neck.

              “The next time you lie to me, I won’t let go.”

              “Okay fine, but Hibold swore me to secrecy.”

              “Hibold sent me here.  Whatever he told you, you can tell me.”

              After a hefty sigh, Iffus glanced around again and the leaned forward.  “He told me to do it.  Find a dead body, cut it up into pieces and tie it to big rocks and then throw it into the well.  The arms and legs will sink, keeping the buckets from pulling them up.”

              Berrien leaned back, confused.  “Why would he have you do that?”

              Iffus shrugged his shoulders.  “That was all before this Neffenmark mess.  It was just past last winter when he had me do it.”

              Berrien looked around, scratching his chin.  His mind turned and turned, developing an idea that popped into his head.  After a few minutes, he chuckled to himself and leaned forward.  “Listen very carefully.  I have a plan and it requires you to keep your mouth shut.  No matter what you hear me say, do not correct me.  Do not ever admit that you did what you did.  Got that?”

              “I think so.  I don’t want anyone else to know.”

              “Of course not.  Peter should be back soon.  Finish your food and then we have to go meet some people.”

***

Berrien had not wasted all his time sitting and waiting for Peter to find Iffus.  While Peter wandered the streets, going from tavern to tavern, Berrien spent his days on the merchant’s streets.  He dressed as down as he could, but not so much that he would be mistaken for a beggar.  All he wanted to do was to blend into the background and observe.

He needed to know who was really in charge of the day-to-day business of the kingdom.  Some of that information would only come once he started to interact with people at various levels of the government, but he needed to have an understanding of who the players were before he stepped in.  By staying in the shadows and watching, he learned all he needed to know about the city and the Karmons themselves.

The Merchant’s Guild ran pretty much all aspects of trade within the city walls.  Knowing that Havid was the head of the guild helped him to follow the trail of his subordinates.  Although he ran a tavern, most of the business coming into the tavern was guild business.  By tailing and following people for several days, he knew how they fit together.  There were money collectors who took a seemingly fair wage from all the merchants.  It was a small amount and no one seemed to really mind.  Unlike the organized guilds in Taran, who tended to be more criminal than not, there was no need to send muscle around with the money collectors.

On the second day in Taran, Berrien had followed Havid all the way up to the castle.  The merchant was toting a small chest full of coins, presumably, the queen’s share of the money collected.  He stopped short of trying to sneak into the castle as it was too well guarded.  If he really wanted to try, he was sure that he could find a way in, but it wasn’t without risk.  And there was no need to put forth such risk.  Hibold had not given him a timetable, so he would go with his own timing.  And that meant going slowly, collecting as much information as he could, and then using that information against the queen.

By the time Peter found Iffus, he had understood much of the economics of the kingdom.  The next step was to truly understand who was in charge and what information could be used against them.

Dressed in a comfortable blue tunic and dark hose, Berrien took Peter and Iffus and left their inn.  They still had two more weeks paid in advance, but Berrien had plenty of coin and he was tired of staying in such a rundown place.  Near the merchants square was a row of modest, but clean, inns that served a fine breakfast and an even finer dinner.  Leaving Peter and Iffus to procure their new room, Berrien approached Havid’s tavern.

It was midafternoon and he knew it would be empty.  Or at the most one or two patrons would be taking in an early drink.  As he stepped through the door, Havid looked up from behind the bar.

“Well, hello!” Havid said with a smile.  “Welcome to my tavern.  Berrien, is it?”

Berrien smiled and nodded.  “Yes, it is.”

“Come in!  Ale?”

“Yes, of course,” Berrien said.  He really did not like the bitter drink, but since it was a staple of the Karmon diet, it would be rude to reject the offer.  The tavern was indeed empty but for Havid and Berrien.  Not even a barmaid was around.  It was not unexpected as Havid was a busy man running the guild and had little time to watch over his tavern.  Berrien took a long pull from the mug, choking it down as best he could.

“Good stuff, huh?  That is from the first cask of river water.  Fresh as a mountain spring!”

“Indeed,” Berrien lied.  It took all his effort not to spit it out.  “So my coming here is more than just pleasure.”

“Oh?” Havid said, trying to act surprised.

“I want to talk to someone about your well problem.”

“We don’t have a well problem,” Havid said with a smile and a light laugh.

“I understand your reluctance to share your problems with a foreigner like me.  But as it so happens, it seems that I have some information to share that could shed some light on your problem.”

“You have my attention,” Havid said.

“First, tell me about your queen, Queen Elissa.”

Havid straightened up and crossed his arms.  “She is a fine queen.  The best.  What are you getting at?”

“Earlier this year, the late King Neffenmark and Admiral Hester had signed a treaty between your kingdom and the empire that would open up relations between our two nations.”

“Yeah,” Havid said with a cold, sharp voice.  “A garrison of two hundred centurions and a dozen dignitaries given quarters in the castle.”

“Where did you hear that?” Berrien asked innocently.  “I was simply talking about an open trade relationship.”

“Head of the Merchant’s Guild, remember?  I spend time up at the castle making sure that our concerns are heard and the merchants of the city are treated fairly.  While I’m up there, I keep my eyes and hears open.  I hear many things.”