Jimmy grimaced. “Highsign?”
“Highsign,” agreed Roald. When the other looked confused, Roald said, “This lad Jimmy gave the stableboy a sign so the local thieves will keep hands off his kick. Tells them a thief from another city is in town and respecting the conventions and should have the courtesy returned. Right?”
Jimmy nodded appreciatively. “Right. It tells them I won’t . . . work without their leave. Keeps things civilized. The boy will pass the word.”
Quietly Arutha said, “How did you know?”
“I’m no outlaw, but I’m no saint either. Over the years I’ve kept all manner of company. Mostly I’m a simple fighting man. Up to a year ago I was a mercenary in the Yabonese Free Levies. Fought for King and country for a silver piece a day and found.” His eyes got a distant look. “We’d been on and off the line for seven years. Of the lads who signed aboard with our captain that first year, one in five was left. Each winter we d stay in LaMut and our captain would go out recruiting. Each spring we’d return to the front with fewer men.” His eyes lowered to the ale before him. “I’ve fought against bandits and outlaws, renegades of all stripe. I served marine duty on a warship hunting pirates. I stood at Cutter’s Gap when fewer than thirty of us held back two hundred goblins for three days until Brian, Lord Highcastle, could come fetch us out. But I never thought I’d live to see the day the bloody Tsurani would quit. No,” he said, “it’s glad I am to be standing guard on piddly little caravans the hungriest outlaw in the land wouldn’t bother with. My biggest problem these days is keeping awake.” The mercenary smiled. “Of all my old friends, you were the best, Laurie. I’d trust you with my life, if not my women and money. Let’s hoist a round for old times’ sake, then we can start telling lies.”
Arutha liked the openness of the fighter. The serving woman brought another round, and Roald paid, over Laurie’s protest. “I’m in this very day with a great creaking caravan from the Free Cities. My mouth is caked with a month’s worth of road dust, and I’ll only waste my gold sooner or later. It might as well be now.”
Martin laughed and said, “Only the first, friend Roald. The rest are our pleasure.”
Jimmy said, “Have you seen a Hadati hillman around?”
Roald waved his hand. “They’re around. Anyone in particular?”
Martin said, “Green and black tartan on his plaid, white paint on his face.”
Roald said, “Green and black’s a far northwest clan, couldn’t say which. But the white paint . . .” He and Laurie exchanged glances.
Martin said, “What?”
Laurie said, “He’s on a Bloodquest.”
Roald said, “A personal mission. Some matter of clan honor or another. And let me tell you, honor’s no joke to a Hadati. They’re as intractable about it as those damn Tsurani up in LaMut. Maybe he has to avenge a wrongdoing, or pay back a debt for his tribe, but whatever it is, only a fool would get into the way of a Hadati on Bloodquest. They tend to be a forward lot with a sword. “
Roald finished his drink and Arutha said, “If you will join us, let’s share a meal.”
The fighter smiled at that. “In truth, I am hungry.”
The call was given and soon the food was served, and conversation turned to an exchange of histories between Laurie and Roald. Roald had listened raptly while Laurie recounted his adventures during the Riftwar, though he left out his involvement with the royal family and the news he was to wed the King’s sister. The mercenary’s mouth hung open. “I’ve never known a singer not given to overboasting, and you’re the worst I’ve known, Laurie, but that tale is so outlandish I believe what you’ve said. It’s incredible.”
Laurie looked stung. “Overboast? Me?”
While they ate, the innkeeper came over and said to Laurie, “I see you to be a singer.” Laurie had brought along his lute, a nearly instinctive habit. “Will you honor this house with your songs?”
Arutha looked ready to object, but Laurie said, “Of course.” To Arutha he said, “We can leave later, Arthur. In Yabon, even when a singer pays for his meals, it is expected he will sing when asked. I build accounts. If I pass this way, I can sing and eat even if I have no money.” He crossed to a dais in the corner near the front door to the inn and sat upon a stool. He tuned his lute until the pitch of each string was correct, then began his song. It was a common tune, sung in all parts of the Kingdom and known by all who sang in alehouses and inns. It was a favorite of those who listened. The melody was pleasant, but the words were mawkish.
Arutha shook his head. “That’s awful.”
The others laughed. “True,” said Roald, “but they like it,” indicating the crowd.