“Ah, well, I don’t know, he comes and goes, although I remember he was around the village a lot more before the two strangers arrived.”
“Strangers?” Guy asked.
“Friends of the Wood family I think. At least they arrived with Thrace and spend a lot of time with her and her father. Since they got here Esra spends most of his days off with the quiet one, Royce, I think they call him.”
“Royce Melborn and Hadrian Blackwater, the two thieves that broke the wizard out of Gutaria, and Esrahaddon are all here in this village?” Saldur and Galien nodded at Luis.
“Very curious, isn’t it?” the archbishop commented. “Perhaps we focused on the wrong hound when we approached Arista. It looks as if the old wizard has put his trust in the two thieves instead. The real question is why would they all be here? It can’t be coincidence that he turns up in this little backwater village at the precise moment when the Emperor is about to be crowned.”
“He couldn’t know our plans,” Guy told him.
“He is a wizard; they are good at discovering things. Regardless, you might want to see if you can determine what he’s up to.”
“Remember to keep your distance,” Saldur added. “We don’t want to tree this fox until we know he’s led us to his den.”
———
Hadrian folded the blanket twice in length then rolled it tight, buckling the resulting cloth log with two leather straps. He had all the gear left to them on the ground in neat piles. They still had all their camping gear, food, and feed. Royce had his saddle, bridle and bags, but Hadrian had lost his tack along with his weapons when Millie disappeared. It would be impossible to ride double and haul the gear. They would have to load Mouse up with everything and walk the trip home.
“There you are.”
Hadrian looked up to see Theron striding from the direction of the Bothwicks, heading for the well with an empty bucket in his hand.
“We didn’t see you around last night. Was worried something happened to you.”
“Looks like everyone had a lucky night,” Hadrian said.
“Everyone in the village—yeah, but I don’t think them fellas up at the castle did so well. We heard a lot of shouting and screaming and they ain’t celebrating this morning. My guess is their plan to kill the beast didn’t go as hoped.” The farmer scanned the piles. “Packing, eh? So you’re leaving too?”
“I don’t see why not. There’s nothing keeping us here anymore. How’s Thrace?”
“Doing well, rubbing elbows with the nobility she tells me. She’s walking around just fine, the headaches are mostly gone. We’ll be on our way tomorrow morning, I expect.”
“Good to hear it,” Hadrian said.
“Who’s your friend?” Theron motioned to the dwarf, seated a few feet away in the shade of a poplar tree.
“Oh yeah. Theron meet Magnus. He’s not so much a friend as an associate.” He thought about that and added, “Actually, he’s more like an enemy I’m keeping an eye on.”
Theron nodded, but with a puzzled look, and the dwarf grumbled something neither caught.
“What about my lesson?” Theron asked.
“Are you kidding? I don’t really see the point in a lesson if you’re both leaving tomorrow.”
“You have something else to do? Besides the road is a dangerous place and it wouldn’t hurt to know a few more tricks, or is this your way of saying you want money now?”
“No,” Hadrian waved his hand at the farmer, “grab the sticks.”
By noon, the sun was hot and Hadrian had worked up a sweat sparring with Theron who was showing real improvement. Magnus sat on an overturned well bucket watching the two with interest. Hadrian explained proper form, how to obtain penetrating thrusts and grips which was hard using only rake handles.
“If you hold the sword with both hands, you lose versatility and reach, but you gain tremendous power. A good fighter knows when to switch from two hands to one and vice versa. If you are defending against someone with longer reach, you’d better be using one hand, but if you need to drive your sword deep through heavy armor—assuming you aren’t holding a shield in your off hand—grip the pommel with both palms and thrust. Remember to yell as you do like I taught you before. Then drive home the blow using all your power. A solid breastplate won’t stop a sword thrust. They aren’t designed to. Armor prevents a swing or a slice, and can deflect the point of a thrust; that’s why professional fighters wear smooth, unadorned armor. You always see these princes and dukes with all their fancy gilded breastplates and light thin metal heavily engraved—it’s like walking around in a death trap. Of course, they don’t really fight. They have knights do that for them. They just walk around and look pretty. So the idea is when you thrust, you aim for a crease, groove, or seam in the armor, something that will catch and hold the tip. The armpits are excellent targets, or up under the nose guard. Drive a four foot sword up under a nose guard and you don’t have to worry much about a counter attack.”
“How can you teach that poor fellow anything without swords?”
They both turned to see Mauvin Pickering walking toward them in his simple blue tunic. Gone was the dapper lord of Galilin, instead, he looked much like the boy Hadrian first saw at Drondil Fields. In his hands, he carried two swords and slung over his back two small round shields.
“I saw you from the walls and thought you might like to borrow these,” he said, handing a sword and shield to Theron who accepted them awkwardly. “They are mine and Fanen’s spares.”
Theron eyed the young man suspiciously then looked to Hadrian.
“Go ahead,” Hadrian told him, wiping the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “He’s right. You should know the feel of the real thing.”
When Theron appeared confused at how to hold the shield, Mauvin began instructing him, showing the farmer where his arm slipped through the leather straps.
“See Hadrian, it helps to actually teach your pupil how to put on a real shield; unless, of course, you expect he’ll be spending all of his time warring against maple trees. Where are your weapons anyway?”
Hadrian looked sheepish, “I lost them.”
“Don’t you carry enough for five people?”
“I’ve had a bad week.”
“And who might you be?” Mauvin asked, looking at the dwarf.
Hadrian started to answer then stopped himself. Alric likely told Mauvin all about the dwarf who had murdered his father. “Him? He’s…nobody.”
“Okay…” Mauvin laughed, raising his hand and waving. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Nobody.” He then went and sat on the edge of the well where he folded his arms across his chest. “Go on. Show me what he’s taught you.”
Hadrian and Theron returned to fighting, but slower now as the sharp swords made Theron nervous. He soon became frustrated and turned to Mauvin scowling.