Wild Born
Page 31
“He’s lying,” Rollan blurted, regretting the words as soon as he had let them escape. It was just so obvious. With Essix on his shoulder, his perceptions felt heightened, his alertness sharpened. He could read the way the storekeeper licked his lips at the wrong time, glanced away at the wrong time.
“I agree,” Tarik said calmly.
“W-what do you mean, I’m lying?” the man sputtered.
Rollan could feel the men behind him shifting.
“What’s the lad playing at?” one particularly large guy muttered to his neighbor. “He’s got himself a gyrfalcon.”
“Your bosses aren’t in any trouble,” Tarik said.
The man behind the counter seemed to take some courage from all the grumbling. “Thanks for the assurance, stranger. Look, I’m not sure where you’re from, but around here we aren’t fond of Greencloaks butting into our affairs.”
Some of the surrounding men muttered words of agreement.
“. . . no regard for privacy . . .”
“. . . holding up the line . . .”
“Go drink your Nectar!”
Tarik stepped away from the counter. He only raised his voice enough to be heard. “I’m here on orders from Sunset Tower. If any man cares to get in my way, step forward.”
Rollan noticed that Tarik didn’t reach for his sword. He made no threatening movement. But he was a tall man with a serious face, and there was no humor in his tone. The men who had grumbled found other places to look.
Tarik turned halfway back to the counter. “I was trying to be discreet. Apparently that isn’t how things are done here. I need to see Monte and Barlow on official business. The orders come straight from the top. You’re not doing them any favors by getting in the way. We’ll return in force if necessary. They might as well get it over with.”
An outburst of murmurs followed the new explanation. The man behind the counter ducked out of sight, as if retrieving something from down low.
Rollan heard faint footfalls. “He’s running!”
Tarik leaned forward, looking over the wide counter. Showing unexpected speed, the shopkeeper popped up near the end of it, leaped nimbly over, and yanked open a window.
Rollan ran to chase him. Tarik moved to follow as well, but some of the large customers stepped in his way. With a burst of light, Lumeo appeared, and Tarik started throwing punches.
Essix flew out the window ahead of Rollan, who climbed through in time to see the shopkeeper duck behind the trading post. Rollan hit the ground running. By the time he made it around to the back of the building, the storekeeper was on a barrel, jumping for the bottom railing of a second-story balcony. Before he could pull himself up, Essix swooped at him, talons extended, and raked his arm. The man dropped to the ground.
Rollan kept coming. The man ran toward the far side of the back of the trading post, but stopped short as Briggan raced around from that direction. The shopkeeper raised his hands as the wolf approached. “All right! Chase over. Leave me be.”
Conor came around the corner from the same direction as Briggan, just before Rollan caught up to the shopkeeper. “Why’d you run?” Rollan accused.
Briggan moved in close enough to sniff the man, who flinched away. “I’ve dealt with too many Greencloaks in my day,” the man replied. “Listen, I have a thing with wolves. Especially getting eaten by them. Can you call yours off?”
Briggan wasn’t growling, but the big animal stood close and had his hackles raised.
“Not so fast,” Rollan pressed. “Who are you?”
The man sighed in resignation. “I guess I neglected to introduce myself. Name’s Monte.”
13 BARLOW AND MONTY
CONOR STAYED AT THE REAR OF THE GROUP AS MONTE LED them through a back room and up a flight of stairs. To think the man behind the counter had been one of the pair they were looking for! He had done a smooth job bluffing Tarik.
Meilin and Tarik had caught up to them behind the store. One of Tarik’s eyes had already started to swell, and he had a cut beside his mouth. When asked, Meilin quietly assured Conor that Tarik had dealt out many more injuries than he received.
Under pressure, Monte had promised to bring them to Barlow using a back door. He warned them that his partner might not be happy to see them. Tarik assured him that it was necessary.
As Monte reluctantly led the group down a hall on the second floor of the trading post, Conor noticed a flicker of movement behind him, low to the ground. After they rounded the next corner, he waited, letting the others stroll ahead. A moment later, a furry masked face peered around the corner, ducking back immediately.
“Come on out,” Conor offered.
When the raccoon didn’t comply, Conor looked around the corner, but didn’t spot it anywhere. The little guy was fast.
Conor caught up to the others as Monte knocked on a heavy door toward the rear of the building. It was answered by a brawny man with massive sloping shoulders and thick whiskers that came up nearly to his eyes. He stood almost half a head taller than Tarik, and Conor doubted whether he had ever seen a better human match for a bear.
The huge man glowered at Monte. “Greencloaks! At my door? Really?”
“They . . . uh . . . insisted,” Monte explained.
“No surprise there,” the big man said, sizing up the visitors. His eyes lingered on Conor. “I see we have some seasoned veterans of . . . what? A week?”
Conor tried to stand up straight and look older than he felt.
Monte gave a nervous chuckle. “They want to have a word with us.”
Barlow locked eyes with Tarik. “You looking for trouble? You can’t own people. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We’re looking for Arax,” Tarik said.
Barlow’s explosive laugh made Conor jump.
“Arax?” Monte exclaimed. “Is this a prank? Who put you up to this?”
Barlow’s barking laugh subsided, but his heavy shoulders kept heaving. He wiped a tear from one eye.
“It’s no prank,” Tarik said. “The Devourer is back and he’s after the talismans. We need to get to Arax first.”
Barlow straightened abruptly and he took a shuddering breath. “The Devourer? What kind of talk is this?”
“He’s returned,” Tarik said. “As promised. Or at least somebody very much like him. Zhong is under attack. The Wall has been breached. Southern Nilo is at war as well.”
“This is rich,” Monte said. “This deserves an audience. Some lies are too big to swallow, especially on a full stomach.”
“I agree,” Tarik said calmly.
“W-what do you mean, I’m lying?” the man sputtered.
Rollan could feel the men behind him shifting.
“What’s the lad playing at?” one particularly large guy muttered to his neighbor. “He’s got himself a gyrfalcon.”
“Your bosses aren’t in any trouble,” Tarik said.
The man behind the counter seemed to take some courage from all the grumbling. “Thanks for the assurance, stranger. Look, I’m not sure where you’re from, but around here we aren’t fond of Greencloaks butting into our affairs.”
Some of the surrounding men muttered words of agreement.
“. . . no regard for privacy . . .”
“. . . holding up the line . . .”
“Go drink your Nectar!”
Tarik stepped away from the counter. He only raised his voice enough to be heard. “I’m here on orders from Sunset Tower. If any man cares to get in my way, step forward.”
Rollan noticed that Tarik didn’t reach for his sword. He made no threatening movement. But he was a tall man with a serious face, and there was no humor in his tone. The men who had grumbled found other places to look.
Tarik turned halfway back to the counter. “I was trying to be discreet. Apparently that isn’t how things are done here. I need to see Monte and Barlow on official business. The orders come straight from the top. You’re not doing them any favors by getting in the way. We’ll return in force if necessary. They might as well get it over with.”
An outburst of murmurs followed the new explanation. The man behind the counter ducked out of sight, as if retrieving something from down low.
Rollan heard faint footfalls. “He’s running!”
Tarik leaned forward, looking over the wide counter. Showing unexpected speed, the shopkeeper popped up near the end of it, leaped nimbly over, and yanked open a window.
Rollan ran to chase him. Tarik moved to follow as well, but some of the large customers stepped in his way. With a burst of light, Lumeo appeared, and Tarik started throwing punches.
Essix flew out the window ahead of Rollan, who climbed through in time to see the shopkeeper duck behind the trading post. Rollan hit the ground running. By the time he made it around to the back of the building, the storekeeper was on a barrel, jumping for the bottom railing of a second-story balcony. Before he could pull himself up, Essix swooped at him, talons extended, and raked his arm. The man dropped to the ground.
Rollan kept coming. The man ran toward the far side of the back of the trading post, but stopped short as Briggan raced around from that direction. The shopkeeper raised his hands as the wolf approached. “All right! Chase over. Leave me be.”
Conor came around the corner from the same direction as Briggan, just before Rollan caught up to the shopkeeper. “Why’d you run?” Rollan accused.
Briggan moved in close enough to sniff the man, who flinched away. “I’ve dealt with too many Greencloaks in my day,” the man replied. “Listen, I have a thing with wolves. Especially getting eaten by them. Can you call yours off?”
Briggan wasn’t growling, but the big animal stood close and had his hackles raised.
“Not so fast,” Rollan pressed. “Who are you?”
The man sighed in resignation. “I guess I neglected to introduce myself. Name’s Monte.”
13 BARLOW AND MONTY
CONOR STAYED AT THE REAR OF THE GROUP AS MONTE LED them through a back room and up a flight of stairs. To think the man behind the counter had been one of the pair they were looking for! He had done a smooth job bluffing Tarik.
Meilin and Tarik had caught up to them behind the store. One of Tarik’s eyes had already started to swell, and he had a cut beside his mouth. When asked, Meilin quietly assured Conor that Tarik had dealt out many more injuries than he received.
Under pressure, Monte had promised to bring them to Barlow using a back door. He warned them that his partner might not be happy to see them. Tarik assured him that it was necessary.
As Monte reluctantly led the group down a hall on the second floor of the trading post, Conor noticed a flicker of movement behind him, low to the ground. After they rounded the next corner, he waited, letting the others stroll ahead. A moment later, a furry masked face peered around the corner, ducking back immediately.
“Come on out,” Conor offered.
When the raccoon didn’t comply, Conor looked around the corner, but didn’t spot it anywhere. The little guy was fast.
Conor caught up to the others as Monte knocked on a heavy door toward the rear of the building. It was answered by a brawny man with massive sloping shoulders and thick whiskers that came up nearly to his eyes. He stood almost half a head taller than Tarik, and Conor doubted whether he had ever seen a better human match for a bear.
The huge man glowered at Monte. “Greencloaks! At my door? Really?”
“They . . . uh . . . insisted,” Monte explained.
“No surprise there,” the big man said, sizing up the visitors. His eyes lingered on Conor. “I see we have some seasoned veterans of . . . what? A week?”
Conor tried to stand up straight and look older than he felt.
Monte gave a nervous chuckle. “They want to have a word with us.”
Barlow locked eyes with Tarik. “You looking for trouble? You can’t own people. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We’re looking for Arax,” Tarik said.
Barlow’s explosive laugh made Conor jump.
“Arax?” Monte exclaimed. “Is this a prank? Who put you up to this?”
Barlow’s barking laugh subsided, but his heavy shoulders kept heaving. He wiped a tear from one eye.
“It’s no prank,” Tarik said. “The Devourer is back and he’s after the talismans. We need to get to Arax first.”
Barlow straightened abruptly and he took a shuddering breath. “The Devourer? What kind of talk is this?”
“He’s returned,” Tarik said. “As promised. Or at least somebody very much like him. Zhong is under attack. The Wall has been breached. Southern Nilo is at war as well.”
“This is rich,” Monte said. “This deserves an audience. Some lies are too big to swallow, especially on a full stomach.”
