Tarah Woodblade (2 page)

Donjon moved his horse up the hill to get a better vantage point and pulled a peering stone from within his jacket pocket. Peering stones were one of the Corntown Smugglers little secrets; flat river stones that had been magically charged and runed with air. A hole was carved in the center and when a dwarf peered through it, they could see a great distance away.

“Yeah, they’re comin’ all right,” Donjon said. “Buyer’s ridin’ a camel and there’s three stewards on horseback with him. Also, four guards joggin’ on foot and . . .” Donjon’s jaw dropped. “Aw, hell. They brought a gnome warrior with ‘em.”

Lenui’s eyebrows rose. He had never encountered one of those before. Gnome warriors were the most dangerous fighters in the known lands. They were selected and tested at a young age and spent their entire lives focused on nothing but training for battle. Since they were longer lived than dwarves, they became very skilled indeed.

“Lemme see that,” Blayne snapped, bringing his horse up next to Donjon’s. The dwarf handed the peering stone over and Blayne looked through it. “Gall-ram it, yer right. Ain’t run into one of them in a while. Still, nothin’ we should worry about. Just means that our particular buyer is highly regarded ‘round these parts.”

“But what if the gnome decides it’d be better just to kill us than pay us?” Lenui asked, warily.

Blayne snorted and shook his head. “Son, there ain’t no gnome scholar, don’t matter how scatterbrained, that’s gonna make an enemy of Corntown. Their blasted stewards wouldn’t let ‘em. ‘Cides, if they attack, we’ll just freeze ‘em,” he said, pulling his overcoat back to show everyone the handle of the paralyzing rod protruding from his inner pocket.

The other dwarves nodded. Not many buyers knew the dwarf smugglers methods of capture or understood how to counteract them. Even a gnome warrior would be helpless before them if hit by the magic of that rod.

“Now, listen up, boys,” Blayne said while the approaching party was still out of earshot. “Y’all keep yer mouths shut while the buyers are here. Don’t talk ‘less yer spoken to. ‘Specially you, Lenui. I don’t care what yer momma says. However Maggie treats you, yer still a dag-blasted baby far as I’m concerned. Keep your gall-durn face closed ‘round the buyers, hear me?”

“You s-. . . I got you, uncle.” Lenui said, barely stifling a curse. This wasn’t the time to talk back to Blayne. His momma had taught him the rules. Still, he couldn’t keep a frown off his face. It riled him that his uncle gave him orders about how to talk to clients when he himself was so lousy at it. The other dwarves treated him like a child, but dag-nab it, he was old enough and smarter than most of them. If he’d been a human, his parents would have expected him to move out and have a family of his own by now.

Puppy whimpered again and Lenui rubbed its head. “It’s okay, boy. They’re here. Soon you won’t have to hang ‘round us no more.” The rogue horse licked his face.

The approaching party neared and as they crested the hill in front of them, Lenui was able to see them for himself. The gnome warrior led the procession and he didn’t look anything like Lenui had expected. Gnomes were tall, lanky folk with long droopy ears and noses, but he had been expecting the warrior to be more bulky than the other gnomes he had seen.

The warrior was nearly seven-foot-tall and wiry and walked in a near crouch with one hand on the hilt of a long and slender sword that hung at his waist. His head was shaven and he wore no armor, just a loose fitting pair of pants and a voluminous shirt. Perhaps strangest of all were the wide-lensed spectacles that he wore. They did not sit on the gnome’s ears like most spectacles, but were attached to a wide leather band that was tied around his head, likely so they wouldn’t fall off.

The guards that ran alongside the party looked like average human soldiers to Lenui. All four wore chainmail and carried shields with an unfamiliar crest on them. The gnome’s human stewards were on horseback and wore gray robes and colored sashes. Two of the stewards wore green sashes while the other one, a woman, wore a black sash. Lenui didn’t know much about the culture of the Gnome Homeland, but Blayne had told him to treat the stewards with great respect. They were the human caretakers of the gnome scholars and were highly regarded in the gnome community.

The buyer himself was perched on the back of a camel, gazing into a book that he held up close to his nose. The gnome scholar had a shock of white hair that sprouted from his head and wore silken robes; light blue with purple embroidery. Lenui didn’t like camels. The ungainly things were temperamental and uncomfortable to ride. He couldn’t imagine trying to read while riding one, but the gnome seemed unbothered by the sway of the camel as it walked. He didn’t bother to look at the dwarves as their party arrived, chuckling to himself as he read.

“The girl with the black sash will be the one to speak to us,” said Donjon with a smirk. “She’ll be the one in charge of the gnome’s money. The green sash boys are just here to make sure the gnome don’t forget to eat or trip over his own dag-gum feet.” He snorted. “Probably wipe his arse for him too.”

“Shut yer yap,” Blayne growled, glaring at Donjon. “Gnomes’ got good hearin’. If you ruin this deal, I’ll drag you all the way back to Corntown behind my dag-blamed horse!”

Donjon’s eyes went wide and he nodded. “Sorry, daddy.”

Lenui rolled his eyes. It wasn’t fair that Donjon was treated as a full member of the group and he wasn’t. Donjon was four times his age, but the dwarf was still dumber than a bag of road apples. Of course, though Lenui wouldn’t say it aloud, Blayne was nearly just as bad. Lenui had never seen Blayne leave a sale with the buyer in a good mood. The dwarf hadn’t been put in charge of the sale because of his diplomacy. He was only there because he was Pa Cragstalker’s oldest son and second in command of the Corntown Smugglers. Lenui’s mother was much better at sweet talking clients but Pa liked to send his boy, thinking it would be more impressive to the clients.

Donjon had been right about the steward, though. The human with the black sash was the one who dismounted first and approached them. The dwarves dismounted and Blayne walked forward to meet her, removing his hat as was proper for business deals. The gnome warrior kept pace with the steward, his eyes darting around as he watched each of the dwarves looking for the slightest sign of trickery.

As he did so, one of the green-sashed stewards sidled his mount up to the gnome scholar and nudged him. The scholar blinked, looking up from his book in irritation. Then his gaze fell on the rogue horse and he gave the steward a nod. He handed the book to the human and climbed down from the camel.

“Good day,” said the black-sashed steward.

“Yer late,” grumbled Blayne. Likely he was hoping to use the buyer’s tardiness as a means to drive up the price.

“Ah, yes. Many apologies, gentlemen,” she replied, giving him a practiced smile. “We would have left the city sooner, but High Scholar Abernathy does not like to be out in the rain.”

“Don’t you think he’s livin’ in the wrong dag-gum place then?” asked Blayne with a guffaw. The steward frowned and Lenui shook his head at his uncle’s foolishness. Blayne’s face went red and he cleared his throat. “What I’m sayin’ is, don’t y’all get flooded ‘least twice a year out here?”

“That is true,” said Scholar Abernathy before his steward could reply. “For now.”

The gnome approached Puppy, his nose wrinkling at the rogue’s musky wet dog smell. He lifted its chin and looked into its sad eyes. The rogue wagged its tail hesitantly and licked the gnome’s wrist. He grimaced and let go of the rogue’s head, then wiped his wrist off on its horse-like flank. “Hmm . . . it does seem authentic. I must admit I was suspicious when I heard you still had a rogue horse in captivity.”

“We done got two, yer scholarshipness,” said Blayne and though he held his hat in his hands, his demeanor was firm. “We ain’t told no one ‘bout ‘em fer a long while ‘cause Pa wanted to hold onto ‘em fer himself.”

“No one was willing to pay the sum you wanted, you mean?” Scholar Abernathy asked walking along the side of the rogue, examining its flank.

Blayne wasn’t about to admit that. He blinked and said, “Naw, it ain’t ‘bout the money. Pa’s fond of ‘em and he didn’t want to sell ‘em to no wizard that’d just accidentally melt ‘em to goop. When he heard you was a scholar, why he said, ‘that Abernathy’d be just the right sort for our . . . Puppy’.”

Lenui gave his uncle a scowl.

Abernathy snorted, but continued to examine the animal, walking around to the other side. He kept a slight distance to avoid touching it again, a look of distaste on his face.

“The High Scholar is not fond of dogs, dwarf,” said the steward with the black sash. “If you had two rogue horses, why did you not bring them both and let him choose the one he wanted?”

“My dislike for canines will not matter in this case,” the gnome said, waving his hand absently. “However, I must wonder why this one was chosen. It is shivering. Is it ill?”

“Would you like us to have it examined first, High Scholar?” the steward in the black sash asked.

Blayne sputtered in offense. “‘Course it ain’t sick. What’re you tryin’ to imply? We ain’t gonna bring no sick goods to our-!”

“Puppy’s fine,” Lenui interrupted, hoping to keep his uncle from screwing things up too badly. “Pa Cragstalker just chose him ‘cause he’s the calmer of the two rogues. The other’n gets excited too easy.”

Blayne shot him a glare that promised him a whupping later and Lenui winced. His arse would be just as sore as Donjon’s after they got back to camp. He vowed he wouldn’t show it like Donjon did though. He might be young, but he wasn’t like these Cragstalkers. He was a Firegobbler and tough as iron. Just like his daddy.

“Bringing the calmer animal was likely for the best, considering its purpose,” said the gnome. “But why does it shiver?”

“The durn thing don’t like bein’ wet,” Blayne explained. “It hates the water so much it don’t even like drinkin’ from the pond back home.” His eyes widened as he realized the gnome might consider that a bad thing. “But that don’t matter. It’s a rogue. It’ll do whatever you tell it to, whether it likes it or not. You could tell it to swim ‘cross the Wide River’n it’d do it.”

The gnome didn’t glance at the dwarf, but he smiled to himself. “Even better.” He held out his thin arm and one of the green-sashed stewards rushed forward with a towel and wiped the gnome’s hand clean. “I think I am ready. Pay the dwarf.”

The black-sashed steward hesitated. “Are you sure, High Scholar? Do you want to pay full price for this animal?”

“Do it,” Abernathy said.

“Yes, High Scholar,” she said and gestured. Two of the guards rushed over and retrieved a wooden chest from the back of the steward’s horse and brought it over. They set the chest down in front of Blayne and she handed him the key. “You will find your payment in full within the chest.”

The dwarf opened the chest and Lenui caught a glimpse of gold before his uncle shut it. Blayne smiled and gestured to Donjon, who carried the chest back to their horses. He looked back to the steward. “You realize we’ll be countin’ this when we get back to camp?”

“I counted it all myself, sir,” said the steward with a slight frown.

“Alright, then,” Blayne said. “A few things you’shd know bout this rogue. It’s a meat eater so it don’t much like grains. It’s smart as a reg’lar horse, but not much smarter. Also like all rogues, if you let some wizard pry too much into the magic holdin’ it together, it’s liable to die on you.”

The way the rogue horses had been created was a great mystery and the reason they were so rare was that most of them had died in the hands of wizards. Once again Lenui was glad Puppy was going to a scholar. Even if the gnome was curious about how it was made, he wouldn’t be likely to kill it with magic. Especially after Blayne’s speech.

The gnome didn’t even look at Blayne. He simply shrugged and said. “I won’t need it for that long, I’m afraid. Anne, would you bring me the implements please? The animal’s odor is much too strong to bring it all the way back to the stables.”

“Yes, High Scholar,” said the steward with the black sash. She ran to the camel and unstrapped a long cloth-wrapped bundle from its side.

When she returned, the gnome withdrew a golden chalice from the bundle and handed it to her. Then he unwrapped the rest of the cloth, revealing a peculiar scepter. It was three-feet-long and made of polished copper. The length of the scepter was covered in intricate runes and its end was shaped into the likeness of a gnome’s head. The look on its face was joyous and its mouth was open as if it were singing.

“Hold the animal still,” Abernathy commanded.

The four guards surrounded the rogue horse, each one grasping a leg. Puppy didn’t like this treatment. He struggled and whimpered. The men had difficulty holding on. The gnome approached the rogue and wrapped the arm holding the scepter around its neck. Then he reached into his robes with his other hand and pulled out a wicked looking knife.

Lenui’s eyes widened. “Hey, what’re you gonna-?”

In one smooth motion, the gnome scholar drew the blade across Puppy’s throat. The rogue horse staggered as blood spewed from the wound. While one of the stewards caught some of the blood in the chalice, the scholar held the scepter underneath its neck, letting the blood soak into the runed length of it.

“Puppy!” Lenui ran towards the rogue horse, but the gnome warrior darted in front of him. Lenui froze as he felt the cold of the gnome warrior’s blade against the skin of his throat. It gave him a warning glare. Blayne and Donjon grabbed Lenui by the arms and yanked him back.

“What’re you doing, you blasted idjit!” Blayne snapped in his ear. They dragged him over to his horse. Blayne reared back and punched him in the mouth. Lenui fell backwards, his vision blurring. “Get up and get on your garl-friggin’ horse!”

Lenui rolled to his knees and looked up in time to see the black-sashed steward hand the blood-filled chalice to Scholar Abernathy. The gnome drank deeply, then grimaced and handed it back to the steward. One of the other stewards rushed over to hand him a towel. The other held out a waterskin. The gnome rinsed out his mouth and spat, then began to clean the blood off of his face and hands.