The warrior monk rolled his “r’s” and said “fer” in place of “for.” James halted and looked over his shoulder. “Now I recognize that speech!” he said. “I’ve spent enough time with dwarves to know that accent.” Glancing upward, above Solon’s head, in exaggeration of the man’s height, he said, “You’re the tallest damn dwarf I’ve ever encountered, Solon!”
“And you’re the dimmest lad ever to serve a prince, if you think I’m a dwarf,” responded the monk. “I grew up on a farm near Dorgin, with naught but dwarven lads with whom to play. So, that’s the reason for my manner of speech. Now, don’t change the subject.” He pointed. “Do you ken what I’m sayin’ about the road ahead?”
Kendaric said, “A few bushes and a wide spot in the road worry you?”
James shook his head. “He’s right. There’s someone hiding in the trees ahead.”
“And doin’ a right poor job of it, too,” added Solon.
Jazhara said, “Should we double back?”
The monk handed the reins of his horse to Kendaric and said, “I think not, milady. I’ll not skulk along this path like a coward!” He called out. “You who are hidden are now revealed, by my faith. Stand and face the might of Ishap or flee like the craven dogs you are!”
After a moment of silence, a small band of men emerged from concealment. They were dressed in clothes only slightly better than rags, with an oddly mismatching assortment of armor and weapons. Two bowmen stayed behind, while two other men hung to the flanks. The small band moved onto the road, and approached, stopping a few feet away from Solon.
The leader took a step forward, a gawky man of middle height with an impossibly large nose and Adam’s apple. James was struck that he looked as much like a turkey as any human he had seen. He half-expected the man to gobble.
Instead, the man smiled, revealing teeth so decayed they were mostly black. “Your pardon, sirs,” he began, with a clumsy half-bow, “but if you’d see the day safely to your destination, you’d be wise not to begrudge us some silver for safe passage. After all, these are rough hills indeed.”
Solon shook his fist at the man. “You’d dare to rob a priest?”
The leader glanced back at his friends, who seemed uncertain as to what to do. Then he turned back to Solon. “Your pardon, sir. We wish no trouble with the gods. You are free from our demands and may go as you will. But they must pay.” He pointed at the rest of the group from Krondor.
“They are under my protection!”
The bandit stared up at the towering monk and then looked again to his companions. Attempting to look resolute, he said, “They don’t wear any holy vestments. They’re under no one’s protection but their own.”
Solon stepped up close to him and said, “If you’d tempt the wrath of my god, you’d better have a very good reason!”
James said, “Let’s just kill them and get on with it.”
Solon said, “No bloodshed if we can help it, James.” Then with astonishing speed for a man of his size, the warrior monk swung one mighty fist upward, catching the bandit leader squarely under the chin. The slight man was lifted right off his feet and flung backward. His ragtag band of companions scrambled to catch him as he fell. Solon glared out from under his gold-colored helm and said, “Any other of you daft twits think you can extort silver from us?”
The men glanced at one another, then as two of them carried their unconscious leader, they hurried off, while those on the side of the road vanished into the brush.
When the road appeared empty once more, Solon returned to his horse. “I thought not,” he said.
James and Jazhara exchanged glances, then both started to chuckle. James mounted his horse and declared, “Let’s go.”
The others followed suit and soon they were again riding cautiously through the darkening woodlands.
As night fell, they turned a bend in the trail and spied light ahead. James signaled for caution and they slowed to a walk.
As they approached the light they discovered they had chanced upon an inn, nestled close to the road in a small clearing. A single two-story wooden building with a large shed behind for horses, the inn was marked with a cheery glow from within, smoke rising from the chimney, and a sign depicting a man with a rucksack and walking stick.
“This must be the Wayfarer,” said James.
“Then the Prince’s agent should be waiting for us?” asked Kendaric. “This man Alan?”
James nodded. “Before we go inside,” he said to Kendaric, “remember, don’t be too free with who we are or where we’re going. Bear may have agents here as well.”
Kendaric said, “Look, I don’t care about any of this intrigue. I just want a bed and a hot meal. Is that too much to ask?”
James looked at the guildsman. Dryly, he answered, “Unfortunately, it often is too much to ask.”
They dismounted and James shouted for the hostler.