Chapter Two

~ I’m here, if you need me. ~

I know.

But all her voice did right now was remind him of what he was. A black mage; illegal business, mind you--the young queen was known for her hatred of anyone who dared use magic within her realm. Well, Noah dared nonetheless, currently entrusted by one Michaela T’Sherazee with a magic-related quest.

Of course he was quite late on the completion of said quest, since he’d come chasing after his long lost father. And the old man was already dead, anyway.

So much for that.

What I need is a drink.

The tavern was called Princess of the Millenia and it had the blue star emblem atop its door. Original touch.

It cost Noah twice as many coppers it would have in Quickrivers to leave Shadow at the tavern’s stables. Sighing, Noah stepped inside, pleased to find it clean and warm, with a fire roaring in the central hearth, an orange tomcat sleeping on the mantel.

A large group of men played dice and gulped ale in one corner. Another group seated at a long table near the hearth had just started their meal. Noah’s gaze would normally roam longingly over the meat pies and roast chickens, but right now he wasn’t hungry. Besides, he didn’t want to spend too much of the coin Michaela had given him.

The room was otherwise crowded with smaller groups and a few lone men drinking and smoking pipe. Noah chose an empty stool by a tall counter behind which ran shelves holding dusty liquor bottles. A man in a grey apron interrupted his wiping of the counter to serve Noah a mug before he could even ask.

“You from Laethi?” the man inquired.

“Who knows?” Noah answered. “Cheers,” he added before taking a swig.

Noah sensed his reaction to the drink was being studied.

“Do you like it? Best ale in the city.”

Frankly, it wasn’t anything special. “It’s really good.”

His face broke into a smile. “Great. I’m Enko, by the way. I’m the owner’s son.”

“Congratulations.”

Enko’s smile fading a bit, perhaps debating whether that was sarcasm, he turned away to serve other customers.

Sipping his ale, thoughts drifting, Noah surmised he hadn’t experienced loneliness in a long time--had nearly forgotten what it felt like to be an orphan. In Quickrivers most people assumed he was Michaela’s son, or his adoptive son, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Michaela T’Sherazee had a wife and four kids. Noah had been living with them for eight years now. Helping with the horses, cutting firewood, tending the gardens. Selling his soul to a demon.

~ You make it sound bad when you say it like that. ~

The point being, there hadn’t even been time to feel lonely.

But now… It was all coming back to him, the way he used to feel before. And those were memories he’d rather forget.  

Noah finished his ale, and when he asked for another, he winced at the price.

“Best ale in the realm,” Enko insisted.

“If I order a third one will it be the best in the world?” Noah asked him, sending a handful of coppers clattering onto the counter.

Enko ignored this, simply collecting the coins. Scratching his beard, he asked: “What brings you to town?”

“Wanted to see the castle.”

Raising a brow, Enko once again left Noah alone with his drink, and his thoughts.

Hearing music, Noah whirled in his seat, craning his neck to find where it came from. A pale, slender woman in a red silk dress sat in the far corner, plucking the strings of her zither. Though the din of talk and laughter made it difficult to appreciate her music, Noah listened, gulping down the ale, drowning his thoughts in it much as the girl’s tune was drowned by the noise.

This time, upon finishing his drink, one of the serving maids replaced his empty mug with a fresh one.

“He told me to keep them coming for you,” she explained, pointing towards Enko, who was now chatting with the cook in the kitchen’s doorway.

Noah was about to inform the girl that he didn’t have enough to pay for this but she was already off serving someone else. Truthfully Noah got distracted by her very short blue striped dress, which revealed most of her long white legs. No mother in Quickrivers would let her daughter wear that. Not that Noah was complaining. Wasn’t she cold, though?

Drinking yet more of the stuff caused him to dig up the crumpled letter from his coat pocket. Not that he actually needed the piece of parchment; he knew the words practically by heart.

But his eyes raked over the fine script anyway.

 

Dear Noah,

 

Let me begin by telling you how sorry I am for never writing before. I kept in touch with Lucy all those years, and I know you see her from time to time, which is why I hoped she could deliver this letter to you.

I don’t blame you if you hate me. But you should know a life with me would not have been better than the orphanage, and certainly no better than what you have now, which is, Lucy writes to me, a life with a good family. My line of work isn’t exactly something I’m proud of, and certainly no place to raise a child. I never wanted to risk bringing you into my life.

But the identity of your father is known to me, after all I did give you his last name. Many times I wanted to tell you about him, or him about you, but I could never work up the courage to come back into either of your lives. His name is Victor Starborn, he is a well-known healer with a shop on Castle Road in Veicira. I heard rumors he was very sick, and I thought you should at least be given the chance to meet him before it’s too late.

 

All my love,

Alexa

 

He watched the tear blurring the ink before realizing it was his own. He cleared his throat, wiped under his eye, and shoved the piece of parchment deep in his pocket.

The next few moments were spent gulping down the rest of his drink.

He jumped when the serving maid brought him another; the place was loud with laughter and the roll of dice, and her slippered feet were quiet as a cat’s paws.

“Thank you, but… this is the last one, all right?”

She just smiled.

So much for not spending Michaela’s coin.

Hand wrapped around his fresh mug, staring into it, his mind conjured up the hopeful glow on Lucy’s face as she’d given him that letter.

Always nicer to him than the others, Lucy was perhaps the only adult from the orphanage he didn’t hate. He found he couldn’t even hate her now that he knew she’d kept his mother’s identity from him. His mother had obviously asked her to keep the secret"it wasn’t the old woman’s fault.

That afternoon at the Quickrivers market, after reading his mother’s letter for the first time, Noah told Lucy he didn’t care. He wouldn’t go. All hope then slipped from her wrinkled blue eyes, disappointment etched in its stead.

Well, clearly he did care, enough to be here, wondering what the look on her face would be, now. Pity, probably.

When the serving maid brought him another before he was even halfway through his drink, Noah couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Would you please stop? Honestly. I don’t want it,” he told her.

She exchanged a nervous glance with Enko, who stood nearby with the orange tomcat in his arms.

There was a loud thump-and-mewl as he released the cat.

“You have to pay for that,” Enko said, approaching. “She prepared it already. And the other ones too, of course.”

“I don’t have enough,” Noah protested. “Are you insane?”

At a look from Enko, the flustered serving girl disappeared into the kitchen.

“Come on.” Enko crossed his arms over his apron. “You’re a Laethi merchant, aren’t you? Or your daddy is one? You people fill your pockets full with coin selling your junk even on a bad day. I know you can pay for my ale. Don’t mess with me.”

“I’m not a bloody merchant.”

“Then what are you?”

“A mere traveler,” Noah smiled, “here to see the big, beautiful castle. Remember?”

His smile was not returned.

Before Enko could speak another word about his wondrous ale, the door opened abruptly and everyone in the tavern went quiet. The girl in the red dress stopped playing, resting the zither on her knees. Noah swiveled round in his stool in time to see four men in matching uniforms come in; three in black and blue, one in black and gold.

“My name,” the one in black and gold gear announced, “is Kemon Clay.”

Hushed whispers disturbed the silence throughout the room. The captain of Fellera’s army was named Tomas Clay, Noah knew. This must be his son.

Noah believed people who named their child after a god were pretentious. For northerners, Kemon was the god of war and justice.  

Kemon Clay was just some fancy kid in a uniform.

He said: “We seek the help of master Victor Starborn. The healing house’s door has been locked for the night already. Do you lot know the whereabouts of this man? The queen herself sends us.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late, my lord,” Enko said with a casualness that irked Noah.

“Her majesty,” Kemon added, unperturbed, “is willing to pay very good coin. Surely, the healer should agree to a disturbance in his evening plans for"”

“No.” Noah rose from his stool. “He means you’re too late as in Victor Starborn is dead. He got sick. He died. It happens.”

Kemon’s gaze came to rest on Noah. “And who are you?”

Noah’s head spun from getting up too quickly. He gripped the edge of the counter, hoping the gesture appeared casual, knowing it probably didn’t.

“I’m his son, actually,” he said.

“Victor Starborn’s son?” Kemon asked, a few steps bringing him closer to Noah.

“That’s right.”

~ What are you doing? ~

Next to Kemon, Enko had a deep frown creasing his brow. “I didn’t know Starborn had a son.”

Yeah, neither did he.

 Enko wasn’t the only one to speak his mind. People whispered, and one in particular reached Noah’s ears.

“I did hear the healer had a thing for Laethi w****s…”

Noah’s fingers itched for the throwing knives concealed within his coat, but he held back, instead focusing on Kemon.

The captain’s son’s boyish traits were offset by a heavily muscled frame, evidenced by a uniform of knee-high boots, tight trousers beneath a black jerkin, wide belt and several pockets lined in gold. The sleeves under the jerkin were of the same gold shade. No armor. But he did have a sword at his hip, a hand resting on the hilt.

Standing behind Kemon, the three others donned similar uniforms, blue where Kemon’s was gold, but they did have on breastplates and shoulder pads.

Kemon made a show of ignoring the whispers, deep-set blue eyes observing only Noah. “Are you a healer as well then?”

Noah briefly turned his attention inward.

Thoughts?

~ Healing? We could, but… ~

“I know a thing or two,” Noah said. “How much is the queen willing to pay?”

“A great deal,” Kemon answered. “It won’t be an issue, that is, if you can live up to your father’s reputation, my good sir...”

“Noah Starborn.”

“I assure you payment’s not an issue, Noah,” Kemon finished.

A bulky man in a heavily embroidered silver jacket chose this moment to stir, his face pallid.

“My lord,” he said to Kemon in a breathy voice, “is her majesty ill? By the gods, don’t leave us in such suspense. I couldn’t bear it.”

“Her majesty is well,” Kemon said, eliciting many relieved sighs. “’Tis her half-brother,” Kemon added, “who is very sick.”

Brother, cousin, jester or cat, Noah couldn’t care less. He just relished the idea of leaving Veicira with a full coin purse.  

To everyone else, though, this information seemed a shock.

“The b*****d?” asked the big man in the silver jacket. “Why would her majesty make such a fuss for a b*****d?”

“I suppose he’s still her brother,” a serving maid argued. “What? It’s true,” she added as Enko shot her a glare. “They had the same mother…”

Kemon cleared his throat. “What the queen does is her business…”

 “Be quiet, people!” Noah exclaimed suddenly, throwing his arm around Kemon’s shoulders like they were the best of friends. “He’s right. Her majesty, in her great wisdom and magnificence, has infinite compassion, even for her b*****d brother. Who are we to judge what her majesty the queen should or should not make a fuss about?”

Noah caught several pairs of eyes gauging him doubtfully.

Kemon spoke in quiet tones. “I don’t know about the queen, but you’re certainly making a fuss right now.”

“Hmm… D’you think maybe we should leave?” Noah asked Kemon.

“May I ask if you’re drunk?”

“You may not.”

Enko suddenly stepped forward. “This man,” he said, chin jutted towards Noah, “still owes me a great deal.”

Noah decided this was an appropriate time to unclasp his arm from Kemon’s shoulders.

“He’s exaggerating.” Noah waved it off. “I barely drank anything.”

“Two silvers, nothing less,” Enko announced.

Sighing, Kemon Clay fetched a coin pouch from his belt.

But suddenly a serving girl screamed and jumped back.

“Sir, you have a… a…” She pointed frantically at Enko’s arm, where a big, long-legged black spider was crawling up.

As other people saw the spider and stepped away, Enko yelped and started shaking his arm violently.

“That’s nasty,” the man in silver said in his breathy voice. “Nasty.”

It was an exercise of tremendous self-control for Noah not to smile.                  

Enko finally got rid of the spider, and he tried to crush it with his boot, but the spider was too quick, disappearing in a corner between two barrels of ale. It didn’t matter because two more spiders now crawled up his legs, making him shout.

“Get them off me! Get them off! Stupid useless cat!”

A serving maid leapt to the cat’s defense. “He’s supposed to hunt rats, not spiders!”

The cook came out of the kitchen with a butcher’s knife in her hand, looking fearless and ready to strike. “Where’s the rat?”

“There’s no rat!” Enko despaired as the spiders clung to him despite his best efforts. “Get them off!” The cook brandished her knife. “No, don’t stab me!”

A serving maid screamed.

Giving Kemon a discreet nudge, Noah asked: “Shall we go now?”

Author's Note

Any feedback is appreciated.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A amazing tale. I like the way you description. Made each situation come alive. I tell the new writers. The key to writing. The where, who, why, when and how is needed in every situation of the story written. Thank you Catherine for sharing the amazing chapter. I wanted to read more.
Coyote

[KnightsEye]

I really enjoyed this story! The characters and mood were conveyed well and the chapters had a well structured, intriguing plot.
Can't wait to read more and see where you take the story!

[Catherine]

Thank you so much!