Chapter 10

Jack was amazed at the variety of goods in the warehouse Mikel led them into. He saw lanterns, flowerpots, wool coats, shields, horse tack, and helms alongside clay jars, rag dolls, coffee pots, and rocking chairs. Row upon row of items were arranged by no method or system that Jack could discern.

Jack leaned closer to Garek so he wouldn't be overheard. "So how do you know this guy?" he asked as they trailed the clerk.

"We grew up together."

"So you're friends?" Jack asked, curious about Garek's warning that they may not be able to trust Farthen.

"We were the best of friends once, but things became strained when we got older." He looked pained at the revelation.

"Strained over what?"

"A woman, what else?" Garek answered. "I visit him from time to time, but I never know if he's going to be bitter or friendly."

Mikel led them down an aisle with swords, spears, and halberds on one side, and mittens and wool scarfs on the other. Jack was wondering exactly what kind of clientele this madhouse serviced when he felt a quivering tingle in his mind that seemed to pull at him. He shook his head to clear it as they left the sword aisle and crossed a small open space to an office built against the rear wall of the warehouse. What the hell was that?

Mikel opened the door and ushered them inside. A middle-aged man with close-cropped, iron-gray hair sat at a plain wooden desk scribbling furiously into a ledger. After a moment, he looked up and smiled.

"Garek," he said as he rose to his feet. "It's been a long time, my old friend." He strode around the desk and laughed as he and Garek embraced.

Looks like we got the friendly version this time, Jack thought with no little relief.

"Too long, you old scoundrel," Garek said as he clapped his friend on the back.

"Scoundrel? Me?" Farthen cried in mock affront. "I'm a legitimate businessman. And look at you, Captain of your own ship and quite the trader yourself. Though, from what I hear you trade in politics as much as goods these days."

Garek gave a snort. "Complying with the King's occasional request comes with accepting a commission in His Majesty's Navy. That doesn't make me a politician, Farthen," he pointed out.

"If you say so," Farthen said with a shrug. "Still, look how far we've come since we were children. You, me, and Magpie used to beg and steal in the Middens just to survive."

"We had no place to go but up," Garek said with a quick smile.

Jack was surprised. Garek was a man of stature, related to the King through his son's marriage to the King's niece. It was hard to imagine he came from such humble beginnings.

"How is Magpie these days, and why didn't she come with you to see me?" Farthen clutched at his chest as though wounded.

"Don't be so dramatic, you old loon," Garek grinned. "She had business at the Chapter house. You know how it is."

"I do," Farthen said. "She's all respectable now, a high-up Sorceress. But I remember when she was Magpie, twelve-year-old scourge of the Middens, picking pockets and fleecing fools just so we could eat. She was the best of us, you know. You and I would have starved or been thrown in prison if it wasn't for her."

Surely they aren't talking about Emma, Jack thought.

"Likely, you're right," Garek agreed. "But I wouldn't call her Magpie to her face if I were you. Not unless you want the sharp side of her tongue, or have you forgotten what that was like while you've been waxing all nostalgic?"

Surely not.

"Oh, I remember all right," Farthen said. "Still, you're the one she married so I'll defer to your judgment on the matter."

They are talking about Emma. Jack was so astonished at the thought of the matronly woman being a street urchin that he failed to sense the change in mood.

Both men were silent for a moment, then Garek reached out and set his hand on Farthen's shoulder. "Old friend," he said softly, "will you ever forgive me for being the one she chose?"

Farthen gave Garek a weary smile. "Oh, she was always going to choose you. I was just too young and foolish to realize it and later, I was too proud to let it go. There is nothing to forgive," he said. "In fact, it is I who need forgiveness from you both. Besides I have my Lerryn now and a finer wife I couldn't ask for. She's changed me, Garek. She's made me a better man."

"I can see that," Garek said. He had noticed how Farthen's face lit up when he said Lerryn's name. "She must be an extraordinary woman."

"She is," Farthen beamed proudly before his face turned somber again. "I heard about your sons," he said. "I don't have the words to tell you how sorry I am."

"Thank you," Garek said, his voice catching. "That means a lot."

"When you see Emma, will you tell her I'm... ," Farthen hesitated, unsure of what to say.

"I will, old friend," Garek said, marveling at the changes in Farthen. His Lerryn must be a special woman indeed.

Farthen cleared his throat then straightened. "Enough of that," he said, his tone embarrassed. "I know you didn't come by to catch up on old times. What can I do for you and your silent friend here?" He gestured toward Jack.

"We need to procure some items quickly," Garek said assuming a business-like tone. He handed Farthen the list of items Jack needed. Farthen studied the list as Garek continued. "Also, we have some very valuable items we need to sell quickly and discreetly."

Farthen's head came up at that. "Stolen?" he asked.

"You know me better than that," Garek said flatly.

"Do you have these items with you?" Farthen asked, curiosity painted on his face.

At Garek's nod, Jack dug the earring box and ring out of his pocket. He was about to hand Farthen the earrings but hesitated. He turned his wedding ring over and over with his fingers, suddenly hit with the reality of letting it go. If he did this, he was acknowledging that his marriage to Barbara was truly over.

He took a deep breath and, ignoring the lump that formed in his throat, handed the ring to Farthen. The merchant briefly examined the ring and opened the box to reveal the earrings nestled inside. He gave Jack a curious look before turning to sit at his desk, where he rummaged through the desk drawer to retrieve a jeweler's loupe.

He held the small lens to his eye and peered at one of the earrings. He inhaled sharply and gave Jack a quick look before examining the other earring carefully. He gave Jack's wedding band the same scrutiny.

"Do you know what you have here?" Farthen asked Jack.

Jack nodded.

"These are the clearest, most perfectly-cut diamonds I have ever seen. Even masterwork is not this good."

Jack wasn't surprised. He doubted any artisan in Aramoor could match the precision of the lasers used to cut diamonds back on his world.

"How much do —," Garek started to ask.

"Hold on a moment," Farthen interrupted. He stared at Jack intently before asking, "Who are you?"

"He's —," Garek tried to speak.

"Faugh!" Farthen slammed his hand palm down onto his desk. "I'm talking to him," he said while pointing at Jack.

Jack shot Garek a nervous glance. "I'm just a traveler from Acal out to see the world," he said.

Farthen sat down, leaned back in his chair, and steepled his hands over his chest, deep in thought. After a moment, the merchant jerked his head up and eyed Garek. "Oh Garek, my old friend, you are a sly dog, aren't you?"

Garek stiffened. "What do you mean, Farthen?"

"I'll tell you," Farthen said. "You claim to be from Acal," his gaze shifted to Jack. "But I've met an Acallian, and you aren't one. Smart of you to choose that lie to cover your accent, though. Very few people would know the difference."

He paused to gather his thoughts. "If you are trying to pass him as Acallian, that means you most likely sailed here from Franeer Island."

He looked between Jack and Garek as though awaiting confirmation. When both men remained silent, he continued. "I have an agent on Franeer Island. He keeps me apprised of any business opportunities that may arise there. A few months ago, I got a bird from him. He claimed that two ships in the King's navy fought each other in the harbor and that the town itself was buzzing with rumors that an Outlander had come through the portal there.

"Now, being a reasonable man, I dismissed this Outlander business as foolishness. And yet, here you are with a long list of items," he said, waving the list Garek had given him. "A list of all the things a man would need to make his way if he were starting from nothing. Not to mention these amazing diamonds that are almost too perfect to be believed." He took a deep breath and then continued, "And the timing, the bird I received, the time it takes to sail here, it's perfect."

"Farthen—," Garek began before Farthen cut him off again.

"And you," he stabbed an accusing finger at Garek. "You knew someone might figure it out, so you came to me. You thought if the truth came to light, you could call on my friendship."

"Let me expl—,"

"You're the Outlander," Farthen practically shouted at Jack. He looked back at Garek. "And you're in more trouble than you can possibly imagine. Give me one good reason why I should help you?" he demanded.

Garek threw his arms up. "I will, if you will give me a chance to speak."

"Well, why should I?" Farthen demanded again.

Garek spread his hands palm out. "Because you are my friend," he said.

"Aramon on the rock, I knew it," Farthen said, shaking his fist at Garek. He strode around his office spouting expletives, completely ignoring the other two men as he yelled and stomped around the room.

Unnerved by the merchant's behavior, Jack caught Garek's eye and tilted his head at the exit questioningly. The Captain responded with a small shake of the head.

Before long, Farthen collapsed into his chair with a loud sigh before turning to regard Garek in exasperation. "Fine, I will help you. But let's just hope we don't need Magpie to get us out of this mess, or we will all three of us suffer the sharp side of her tongue."

"Thank you, Farthen," Garek said, relieved and a little amused by the antics of his old friend. "But, tell me. What did you mean when you said I'm in more trouble than I can imagine?"

"A lot has happened in the months you've been at sea," Farthen said. "Have you heard about King Roadan yet?"

Garek looked at Farthen sharply. "No. What about him?"

"I hate to be the one to tell you, but he died in his bed several months ago," Farthen said. His voice softened. "I know you were friends."

"Not just friends," Garek said after a shocked silence. "He was family." The Captain took a deep breath and blinked furiously as he fought back tears. Jack placed his hand on Garek's shoulder but kept silent.

With visible effort, Garek controlled his grief. His voice was almost steady when he raised his head to ask Farthen, "What happened to the King? He was robust. Did he fall ill?"

"No one really knows. At least, none of my contacts do."

"Damoden rules now?" Garek asked.

"He sits on the throne, but the rumors say he doesn't rule. It's whispered that he's just a puppet for Chancellor Titus Vallen of the Aramonic Priesthood."

"That's outrageous," Garek fumed. "What about the rest of the King's advisors?"

"The Sorceress Amalee is dead," Farthen said. "General Forsith was sent to the front, and Lord Kardigan was thrown in the dungeon for treason."

Garek stared at his friend in disbelief. "That leaves just Vallen," he said.

"And word is the young King has no mind of his own, and just decrees whatever the Priest wants him to."

"That doesn't sound like the Damoden I know," Garek said with a frown. "Something is very wrong. What of the King's Sentinels?"

"I don't know for sure," Farthen said. "It's all just talk on the trade routes, which isn't always accurate. However, I do know this: the Swords of Aramon have moved into Antyor in force."

"We saw their patrols on the way here," Garek said.

"It's a safe bet that word has reached the King's court of your presence," Farthen said to Jack. "If Vallen is in charge, you can guarantee that the Swords of Aramon have orders to find you. The priesthood will want to use you for their own purposes."

"And what purpose would that be?" Jack asked.

"We'll get into that later," Garek said, "but let's just say the Aramonic Priesthood and their thugs — the Swords of Aramon — are not our friends. It would be very bad if they got their hands on you."

"Well then, what do we do?" Jack asked.

Garek paused to think. "We sail for Panaar tomorrow," he said at last. "We need to be gone before the priests and snake bellies know we were here. If King Damoden is under duress, it is our duty to rescue him. That has to be our priority."

"You are going to need help if you're going to pull off a one-day turnaround," Farthen said.

"I surely will," Garek said. "Now, what can you offer for the Outlander's jewelry?"

Farthen seemed to be calculating in his head. "Twenty thousand gold pieces," he finally replied.

"That means you think you can sell them for forty," Garek replied, a hint of a smile returning to his face. "Make him a better offer."

"Wait," Jack said. "I'll take the twenty thousand, but only if you can get me all the things on my list, and give Garek whatever help he needs so we can sail tomorrow."

"Done," Farthen said. He laughed when he caught the look on Garek's face.

"Jack," the Captain turned to him in exasperation. "I could have gotten all that and at least five thousand more."

"Too late," Farthen laughed. "The deal is struck."

"Sorry," Jack said, feeling foolish.

"Come!" Farthen sprang from his chair. "We've much to do if you intend to sail tomorrow."

He led them back into the warehouse, where Mikel was waiting to measure Jack for the clothes and leather armor he had requested. The small man bustled around Jack while Farthen and Garek discussed the delivery of food to the ship for the journey to Panaar. Farthen assured the Captain that he could have the twenty thousand gold pieces delivered from the bank to the Arabella without unwanted notice.

As the other two men fleshed out their plans, Jack felt that quivering buzz in the back of his mind again. It was the same feeling he'd gotten just before they entered Farthen's office. He shook it off and listened intently as Farthen and Garek dispatched runners.

One runner was sent to Ithos, instructing him to recall the crew and make ready to sail on the morrow. A second runner was sent to the Covenant Chapter house to apprise Emma's party of the situation.

What is that? Jack felt it again, a quiver in his mind. It was faint, like a sound so quiet you weren't sure you heard it. A sound that seemed to come from ... that way. Jack took an unconscious step toward the elusive sound and ignored Mikel when the clerk squawked in protest. He waved Mikel back as he took another step and felt it again.

Standing motionless, Jack cocked his head to the side, listening intently. He realized right then that the faint quiver came in time with the pulsing of the leyline. He had become so accustomed to the leyline's presence on the edge of his awareness that most of the time he forgot it was even there.

He held his breath and waited for it. Pulse, quiver, that way. He moved to the next aisle where several wooden barrels held a plethora of point-down swords. Many showed signs of rust on their cross guards. Most had leather peeling away from their hilts.

"Outlander," Farthen called, having noticed Jack perusing the swords in the barrels. "Those are junk. We'll find you something better."

"Call me Jack," he said quietly, never taking his eyes off the barrels as he waited for the next pulse of the leyline.

"What?" Farthen called.

"Call me Jack," he called back. He missed the acknowledging wave that Farthen gave him.

That one, Jack thought as the latest quiver brought him to a barrel filled with old rusty swords much like the barrels to either side. He dug through the barrel until he found a weapon that was different from the others.

Jack pulled the sword out of the barrel to examine it. The scabbard was earth-brown and rigid. The material was not leather; instead it appeared to be wood or a resin of some kind. The hilt was the same earth-brown shade though it had black leather straps wrapped around the grip.

The scabbard was attached to a belt designed to reassemble an interlocking pattern of leaves ranging in colors from the greens of spring to the russets of autumn. He raised the scabbard, gripped the hilt with his right hand, and slowly pulled the blade free.

To Jack's eyes, the steel pulsed faintly with the light of the leyline as he pulled the blade free of the scabbard. The metal showed not a hint of rust or wear, and was about the same length as the bastard sword he had been training with. The blade was different, though. Unlike his training sword, which was straight and had a double-edged blade, this one was curved and single-edged. It reminded Jack of the swords he had seen in old Samurai movies. The hilt was just long enough for him to take a comfortable two-handed grip.

"What about this one?" Jack asked as he stared at the pulsing blade.

"That's an Elvenestri sword that I got on an excavation," Farthen said from behind him. The merchant had approached when Jack had retrieved the sword from the barrel. "Thought I could make money selling Elvenestri artifacts, but it seems no one wants to buy the damned things. Lost a ton of money on the deal."

"I'll take it then," Jack said.

"Suit yourself," Farthen said with a shrug before turning back to Garek.

Just then, Mikel appeared beside Jack. "Please, sir," he said, his tone plaintive. "If I'm to find all the clothes and armor you need by tomorrow, I really need to get these measurements."

Jack nodded as he buckled the sword belt around his waist. He rested his hand on the hilt as Mikel resumed his fussing. The weight of the sword felt comforting, almost reassuring.

In a surprisingly short time, they were ready to return to the ship. Farthen assured them that Jack's items and the food they would need for the journey to Panaar would be delivered before midday on the morrow. The merchant escorted them back the way they had come, out of the warehouse and into the store.

Jack almost ran into the Captain when Garek suddenly stopped at the doorway that led into the store. He peered around the doorway and caught his breath at the sight of Kairn, Grelik, and Farthen's two guards kneeling on the floor. Four grim-faced men stood behind them, with a knife held to their prisoner's throats. Three more men stood on their left, and the other three on their right moved quickly to surround the new arrivals. Jack's hand instinctively moved to his sword hilt. He felt calmer when the sword pulsed with the rhythm of the leyline.

"Sorry, Captain," Grelik said, a purple bruise swelling on his temple. "Caught us by surprise."

Garek nodded in response before addressing their assailants. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

A hooded man stepped out from behind the prisoners and approached Garek. "Captain Liaman of the Arabella," he said. "I am Lieutenant Lasko of the City Watch. The Governor would like to speak to you and your companions."

Most agents of the Vas Dathruun sought promotion with a single-mindedness bordering on fanaticism. Rynech was no different. He didn't plan on spending the rest of his life as the leader of a Succubus unit.

Rynech's unit consisted of himself and two female agents. His primary mission was to locate worthy targets, then get them alone with one of his girls so they could perform the succubus blood magic that would bind the target to the girl.

Once bound, the target was compelled to obey the agent in every way, provided the agent kept a fresh supply of the target's semen inside her. Succubus agents were well-trained in the art of sex. Rynech felt no sympathy for his targets, even if they essentially became puppets. After all, they got fantastic sex every few days ... until they were no longer useful.

Girls with the magical talent and disposition to become succubi were rare, and Rynech knew better than to waste an agent on just anyone. Snaring a high-value target could lead to advancement. Choosing a target poorly, on the other hand, often led to a demotion, or worse.

He hated this assignment mostly because of the loss of his true form. The transformation itself was painful, but what he despised most was this weak and ugly human shell. He hated the pale skin of his human face. He missed his own red complexion in the mirror, and could not get used to having a smooth forehead where his lustrous black horns should be. Not being able to taste the air with his forked tongue, and having to walk around without the added balance that a tail provided was disconcerting to say the least.

The only thing that made this job bearable was the way human women seemed to find his adopted shape appealing. He rarely had trouble finding one willing to spread her legs. He'd learned that pussy felt just as good packaged in the white or dark skin of human women as it did in the red of a Karokai female.

Rynech liked to troll for potential targets in the taverns located in the Middens. It was a good place to find the occasional nobleman slumming or a politician looking for the embrace of a woman other than his wife's. Men like these were the type that his masters wanted control of, and when the targets were looking for mischief, his agents did their jobs so much more efficiently.