Gadolor

A Game of Wits

Summer’s days were growing short, and Sebastian said they must hurry on to Porton, the city on the Newr River, where they would find a boat that would take them south into warmer country. They didn’t talk as much now. Though sleeping close together kept them warm, they didn’t hug and kiss each other like they had at first. Romni supposed the change was for the better, for as Mala had said, she shouldn’t be dependent on anyone.

With winter drawing near, people were less generous with their money, so Sebastian gave up his juggling act. Instead, they resorted to various tricks to make their way. Romni got better at pickpocketing, though they worked best as a team. She would distract a merchant as he took the goods, or steal from farmers while he acted as a lookout.

These tricks had been exciting at first, but now that the wonder of it had passed she began to like it less. She tried to work for her food whenever possible, but Sebastian was always urging her to steal something. “This life is all cold and grit,” he said, “We fight to survive when the sun goes away. You never had to worry about winter in your cozy castle, but now you’re seeing the real world.” So they stole.

Lachish was a merchant whom Romni came to know. She helped him sell things, drawing people to his stall, where they could see the jewelry he sold. He called her “pretty scamp” and paid her a little bit every day.

Lachish had an ornate box that held all his most precious wares. It took Romni a long time to get close enough, but one day she saw her chance and snatched it. But the merchant was a shrewd one too, and he caught her. He would have cut her throat right there in the street, but Romni fought and spit and bit, managing to get away with only a gash on her collarbone.

Roads became busier as Sebastian and Romni neared Porton. The trade city was a gathering place for all kinds of people, from traveling workers to armored knights. Occasionally they had to hustle off the road as someone important hurried by. Bandits sometimes preyed on rich people.

Sebastian began telling her about the places they would see in the South. The Great Desert lay at Lortosa’s south border, keeping the air warm all year. It sounded to Romni like a lot of brown and sand and dust. “Do you have strong legs?” he asked, poking her thigh, “Good. You’ll need them for mixing bricks. There was a war in the South Province recently, and they’re still rebuilding the canals. The barons pay well for good legs and backs.”

— § —

One evening they came to a campfire and asked if they could share it for the night. By the time darkness was complete, several others had joined, and the little blaze was expanded to a proper bonfire. Romni thought it fun to step through the dark woods beside a stranger, hunting for the wood that would keep them all warm tonight.

They sang songs and told stories, mostly tall tales. There was a hireling who kept saying “That’s what I say,” even when no one had said anything. A man named Ascan had the most beautiful mare Romni had ever seen, whose coat was flecked gray-white like the moon’s face. Presently he and another were playing a game of proverbs.

“A wise man stays at home when the clouds are heavy,” the opponent said.

Ascan replied, “A wiser man oils his cloak when the sun is bright, and when the clouds are heavy, he brings it with him.”

“Then, pity the one who has no cloak.”

“Pity the traveler more, for he has no home, and he has weariness for a companion.”

“That’s silly,” someone said, “You’re a traveler yourself.”

Ascan grinned ruefully. “Yes. That’s the proverb my father gave me when I left home.” Guffaws circled the fire.

“That’s what I say,” commented the hireling.

“I wager your father’s a rich one,” a ruffian said, “Prob’ly a governor from the Middle Province.”

Romni ventured to speak. “No, he sounds like the Astoran nobles.”

Firelight danced in Ascan’s eyes. “I do? Have you known many?” Sebastian glanced at her sharply—she’d said too much. Even here, the secret of her past was never safe.

“They all have this grand, sloppy way of talking,” Sebastian added, covering her mistake.

“Well, which is it?” asked the hireling, “Are you Middle Province or Astor?”

Ascan wrapped his cloak around him, snuggling his beard into its warmth. “I’ll leave you to guess. Truly, he is wise who speaks little and listens much.” They all chuckled, and someone suggested he was actually a robber who had gotten rich. After this, the hireling took up the game of wits, but it wasn’t very interesting and Romni soon fell asleep.

— § —

The trader-robber-noble Ascan was apparently headed for Porton too. He seemed happy to accompany Romni and Sebastian at their walking pace. Though, Romni thought, he could have mounted that beautiful horse and ridden anywhere in a single day. He let her pet it on the nose, and it looked back at her with wise brown eyes.

“Sorry I haven’t any carrots to give you,” Romni said.

“Humph,” said the horse.

“She does like carrots,” Ascan said, “But alas, such delicacies have escaped us lately.”

“Are you really a robber?” she asked, looking at him.

His eyes twinkled; there were little wrinkles at their corners. “Do you think I am?” Ascan rarely gave straight answers, she realized.

“You carry a sword,” Sebastian pointed out, with a dryness that rivaled Mala’s. Romni knew what he thought of this type. They were carefree fools who traveled at leisure, smiling at everything and never touching the world’s ugly side. They were the kind it was easiest to steal from. Maybe Sebastian was right.

Ascan laughed. “I haven’t used it on this journey. I hope I shan’t need to.” Foolish or no, the man had an enjoyable laugh. She decided she would enjoy his company, even if he carried a sword like a fool.

Late that afternoon, Romni crouched alone at the edge of a clearing in the woods. She crawled along the ground on her belly, edging toward a wood-shingle chicken coop. A farmhouse stood just beyond it. Several chickens were foraging in the leaf-covered ground, clucking as they scratched for worms. Romni eyed the house cautiously.

A sparrow twittered in the woods to her left. That was Sebastian’s signal—all clear. Romni jumped up and grabbed the closest chicken before it could run away or squawk very much. Wringing its neck quickly, she scampered back into the woods with her prize.

Sebastian joined her. They danced in victory. “You got a fat one,” he chuckled.

“It was the slowest.”

“There might be an egg in there.” They hiked away from the farmhouse, crossing two hills before lighting a cookfire. As they went, Romni spotted Ascan walking, leading his horse up toward the house. A few minutes later, she heard the sharp clunk of splitting wood and knew the traveler was working for his dinner. I guess he doesn’t steal his food. He would be sleeping inside tonight with farmers to keep him company. Dew settled onto the forest. Evening breezes chilled Romni’s greasy fingers as she sat eating chicken with Sebastian. Even though the traveler had to sweat for his food, Romni envied him in a way.