Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 46

Chapter 4 - The Trail

"Life is the only disaster no one's figured out how to get out of alive."

-Anonymous

Vestrin

The woman's contacts were good. He was given exactly what he needed; a bath, several silver rounds and a backpack full of provisions with no questions asked. Not even one as to why he was entering a guard barracks when he clearly didn't belong. He'd stewed with his thoughts and the filth on his skin in the copper tub but no new ideas came, no instincts, no nothing.

He was empty. Even the asshole looking back at him in the mirror had nothing new for him. Just the same criss crossing scars, tired eyes and a few day's stubble wearing him rather than the other way around. He considered, for a moment, shaving but his heart just wasn't in it and the dangerous thoughts that crossed his mind when he picked up the straight razor made him all the more uncertain.

On his way out the door from the barracks he was met by a boy with a horse in tow. He handed Vestrin the reigns along with a leather billfold with a map and series of papers tucked inside. Oh yeah, her contacts were very good. The boy refused the tip Vestrin tried to give him with a polite 'already covered, m'lord' and scampered off leaving Vestrin once more to his empty headed bullshit.

There was a time where even the idea of moping around made him want to punch something- or someone- but what the hell alternatives were there? He busied himself reading through the papers at a snail's pace, carefully sounding out each word and re-reading it in his mind's eye until it made sense. It wasn't a skill he got to use often but the engagement of those old muscles helped him focus and, for the moment, distract him from the shit boiling just underneath the surface.

A travel pass was the first item. A legitimate travel pass meant for some kind of envoy- whatever the hell that was- to a noble out of the Estan Free States. The other documents were more of the same telling him about some kind of big construction project he was meant to be buying supplies for. Along the reverse side of the map was a list of places to visit along the caravan route with supplies his identity was meant to be going there for. Some of the other documents laid out the details of the construction project, how it all went together and what it all did.

"The fuck is this, an Engineer's sermon or what?" He scoffed and tossed it in his new bag but kept his travel documents in easy reach and stood there in the middle of a street just starting to flow with the mass of commoners starting their day, wondering. Wondering about his past and future, about what had happened to his son's soul after he died. Rachel was guaranteed a spot with the Lord of Dreams but neither Vestrin or his son had given much thought to the gods-

Was it too late? Could he still ask on his son's behalf? What would happen if he did?

"Move it!" Some idiot shouted at him.

Vestrin whirled. He didn't even think. He punched the old man right in the face. As the man crumpled he drew back with clenched teeth. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Pay attention, you fucking idiot! Vestrin crouched to pull him up, ignoring the looks from gawkers. "Sorry," Vestrin muttered- he laid the man over his cart full of hay and quietly slunk off with his entire body trembling with a sudden boiling rage that hit him so hard and fast he didn't recognize it until it had him tearing at the seams of the cheap leather jerkin he'd been given. There was no target. No reason to be angry. Just a burbling hatred of everything and anything.

Everywhere he looked something stupid was going on- people laughed at stupid fucking jokes, they acted high and mighty behind their armored guards, they slogged their way to meaningless jobs. They lived. They got on with the business of living, they had friends. Family. Living. All of them.

All of them. Living. Oblivious to how short life really was-

His new horse nudged him his his- or her- snout. It batted him hard enough to be felt and didn't pull away. Vestrin pulled the reigns back away from his face but the horse kept trying to push against him. It took Vestrin a second to really grasp that this thing, this animal, was actually there. With this simple acknowledgment the 'retired' thief pushed his anger down and focused himself a little. "What the fuck do you want?"

Focus might have been a strong word, but it was something to start with.

The horse snorted, tried to bat him again and bared its teeth at him. Was it hungry or something? Of course he'd been given a starving horse, maybe her contacts weren't as top notch as he'd thought. Though that was a good thing; it made her human. She could screw things up too. Served her right, the smug bitch.

Vestrin took a few breaths while the horse struggled against the resigns. It bobbed its head a little left and right, not exactly putting a lot of effort into 'escaping' but enough that they somehow developed a slight tug of war all the way up to the south gate.

The guard took his pass, checked it over once. "Where y'headed?"

"What? Oh. Laleah."

A skeptical glance. "Says here you're goin t'Leweood."

A flash of panic ripped through him like a knife. If he was arrested there was no telling what'd happen, but it'd involve him getting cut up into pieces no doubt. Thinking fast he produced some of the documents he'd been given and turned over the one marked for Laleah. "Getting, uh, stone tools here then going to Laleah to get woodworking ones. Yeah, nothin but the best."

"Oh? M'pa's a carpenter. Work'n on the new temple of Isira. Good work, that. You a carpenter there mister Hoes?"

Vestrin eyed the man for the briefest of seconds and filled in the spots in his story as he went hoping for the best. "It's 'ho-ehs.' Buncha millers in my family, I just envoy things. Jobs that need doin and products that need movin aroun'. I get tah travel a bunch and it aint so bad. But I got a schedule t'make, so if I can go? My employer aint one to keep waiting."

The guard checked the paperwork one more time and picked up a wood stamp, slapped it on the paper and handed it back. "Don't take this the wrong way, don't mean no offense by it, but at least you don't talk like one'f them Estanians. They talk all day and say a lotta nothin."

"Aint it the truth," Vestrin said as he accepted his paperwork back, relieved just to be able to walk out freely. The horse had stopped yanking on the reigns and even it seemed to be cooperating for the moment.

Vestrin had never hated calm silence more in his life.

#

Clop. Clop. Clop. Went the horse's hooves down the packed earth road. Away from everything he knew, everything that made sense and was sane. Every step carried him further and further from what had once been his home, with no clear future laid out in front of him- no plan other than 'follow the dragon bitch', 'find Sarah' and 'don't get killed'. He was lost.

He'd heard some sailor call it being adrift. Yeah, that was a good word. Adrift. A drift. Smart word, that. Not that he'd ever found sounding smart to be an advantage, most of the people he knew instantly lost respect for someone that sounded too high and mighty, but still. It gave him something to do to occupy his mind.

He stayed to the caravan lanes as much as possible, following the map as best he could- easy, really; the path was practically a paved road. Along the way he saw a fair few tired caravan runners bitching about one thing or another in Laleah. One thing they all had in common was complaints about a bunch of soldiers making life difficult for them.

More than once he was tempted to ask about what happened, but he could never bring himself to speak for the entire sun down to sun up journey. When he was entering the outskirts of the village he realized that was probably not the smartest choice he'd ever made. Waiting for him at the gate was a group of Sorash's militia. They wore better armor than the patrol guards and it looked the same- this was issued stuff, not the 'bring your own' crap the guards wore.

Vestrin paused for a moment wondering if the men would recognize him. He'd grown up with a lot of the men who'd seen serving in the militia as their only escape from poverty and while they'd run off and got their shiny armor- and indentured service contracts- he'd taken a different road. One that was going to get him killed one day, but it beat sucking at the tip of a noble's-

"You there!" One of the guards shouted, waving him forward.

"Yeah?" Vestin produced his documents and began to dismount as he'd seen the other people waiting in line do.

The guard was no one he recognized, but he couldn't pat himself on the back and thank the gods of luck, he still needed to make sure he wasn't going to get arrested just because he looked like a troublemaker. He offered the guard his documents. The man took them without much concern.

"Have anything to declare?" It wasn't hard to spot the boredom in his voice, the he spat were worn in his mouth as the wagon tracks in the dirt. "Contraband such as magical weapons, gold or purple crystal shards?"

"Uh. No."

"It says here you're from Estan, what part?"

Vestrin was almost positive he was blowing the pronunciation but he was willing to bet the guard had never heard the name either, "Geewick." Giwic on the map, it sounded close enough to him.

"And you're buying parts?"

"Tools."

"Tools, right. Right, so last question; seen any redhead elf blooded women running around in the last few days?"

He didn't want to show any emotion. He didn't want to give himself away so easily, there was no way he'd be able to keep his cover if he let his feelings get away from him. He had to be calm. Calm. Deep breath, in and out. He shook his head. "Can't really tell the difference. 'Tween their men and women anyway." He almost attempted a smile to cap it off, but it died on his lips.

The guard didn't have any such problem. He laughed lightly, handed Vestrin his documents and waved him on by. "Just keep your wits and your eyes open. Big reward if she's caught; she wears glasses and talks like a westerner."

"I'll keep a look out," Vestrin lied.

There were all kinds of questions roiling through his mind about what he'd do when and if he caught Sarah, not the least of which was whether he really blamed her for what happened. He wasn't stupid enough to think she was the sole reason. That dragon woman offered him what he needed- just like Sarah had said- and when it came to it, she was nowhere to be found. Now she was threatening his life if he didn't bring the elf bitch to her. He sighed.

He was a lot of things. A lot of things but the idea of being that didn't sit with him. . . .not after everything he'd seen. The more time he spent with his thoughts the more he didn't want to see her in the hands of the dragon bitch.

She still had to pay for Rebecca's murder. But she didn't have to suffer for it, did she?

Vestrin wandered around for a bit before he found an inn in the center of the village. A little two story place with a kettle on the placard, packed with a bunch of caravan jockies who were crowding around some kind of game on the bar. They shouted at a ball as it bounced from one nail to the next, back and forth across the board before dropping into a chute on the deck of the machine that was labled with some numbers. The bar maid would then pluck the ball out and start it again, collecting bets the entire while. A younger woman was taking orders wandering from one table to the next. Vestrin stopped her.

"Looking for whoever's in charge."

"That'd be her," she nodded to the older woman.

"The village. In charge of the village."

"Oh. . ." The girl fidgeted, glanced away. "S- Sheriff Cosnu's in lockup. The knights got him under lock and key-"

"So he's not in charge then, is he?"

"Ah. . ." She glanced around, eying the crowd. She spoke in a whisper fit only for them. "Kindda not, no. But the town militia don't take kindly to the city boys, they still listen to him, though. Got the soldiers all in a fuss, but it's better that way for my money."

It took Vestrin a moment to figure out what the hell she was babbling about, imagining it was probably less important than she made it seem. "So where can I find this lock up?"

"Uh," The girl fidgeted again. Vestrin considered throwing her a coin to loosen her lips but she swallowed and nodded toward the door. "Y'go out there, it'll be across the square by the mayor's old house. It's all stone walls, though, so don't go gettin caught trying to act a fool. Soldiers aint too bright, but they hold their weapons like they know what they're doin with 'em."

"Thanks, kid." He didn't wait for her to reply, he was beyond caring about what people had to say except for their usefulness to him. It had to be this way, he told himself. He just had to be functional enough that he could get where he needed to go and, by then, hopefully have some kind of plan worked out or even fully in motion. Yeah, it'd be like the old days again where he was bargaining for time with his skills.

It was like putting on an old shirt that'd shrunk several sizes- even if it'd only been a couple of weeks since he'd actually had to use those skills, they were still there even if they weren't fully developed any more. He could do this. . .

Vestrin found the building easily enough, a young guard was leaning against the wall beside the door. He looked up tiredly to regard Vestrin on approach. He started to open his mouth, probably to ramble off some crap about how it was a restricted area or some such.

There wasn't going to be any of that. Vestrin sucker punched him in the gut, lifted the key off his belt and dragged him inside the makeshift jail where he scooped him into a choke hold until the kid passed out. He dumped the boy in the corner, pilfered his pockets and then, when he was sure everything was quiet he tied the kid up to the bars of the cell closest to him.

A half dozen men were packed into that cell trying to sleep on the earthen floor and another one by himself in the second one was crashed out on a wood cot. Once Vestrin finished with the soldier he stood tall and put on the unfamiliar mask of someone who was still complete. Still whole. "Which one of you is Cosnu," he grumbled and banged the bars. "Cosnu, wake up!"

Grumbles and yawns rang through the prison but so did a low mutter.

"Last chance before I walk out of here and you fuckers rot. Where's Cosnu."

"Eh! 'ere, 'ere. What's the problem?" It was the fat man. Vestrin approached the door, turning the key over in his hand in such a way that the man would see it for what it was.

His chance at freedom.

"You're the Sheriff," He said dismissively.

"And who're you, the keymaster?" He scoffed.

Vestrin turned the key over a couple more times, holding the man's gaze. Then he tucked it into his own pocket. Unsurprisingly the Sheriff's attention wandered to where it'd gone. He wanted out as much as anyone would. Vestrin took the bars. "Look, you aint got much time and neither do I. They're buildin' a gallows outside," he lied. "You want out? You'll have a lot better chance now than an hour from now- or when the kid wakes up." He nodded to the downed soldier.

Cosnu peeked and saw the boy, then he started to look at Vestrin with more serious eyes. Vestrin had won a minor victory. "Who do you work for-"

"Aint a matter you need to worry 'bout. Answer my questions and I leave this key and forget we ever met, fair trade?"

The fat man licked his lips warily. "Y- Yeah. Yeah, all right."

Vestrin didn't even flinch, "A woman came through here. Two of them. Knife eared one with red hair and-"

"And an assassin?"

"Yeah. Her."

Cosnu backed up slightly, eying Vestrin like he was mad. Maybe not far from the truth. He shook his head warily, scrubbing his tired features. "You either got a death wish or someone didn't tell you-"

"I know who the Ace is," Vestrin slotted his hands in his pockets. Something in the way this fat bastard was looking at him gave him pause; he was considering lying to Vestrin. But who was he protecting? Who did he think he was going to help by lying?

They stood there for a moment sizing each other up, both men letting the silence grow to fill the space between them until it became thick enough to cut. Cosnu seemed to be going back and forth in his mind about who to trust and who to believe in, but the temptation of his freedom so close at hand made it an actual problem for him. Vestrin decided he'd tip the scales a little, he set the key down against the bar and held the fat man's gaze.

"Scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

"What do you get out of it?"

"Suppose you could say I'm a friend of Sarah's-"

"That right?"

"Sure is." Vestrin said cooly. He was beginning to loose his patience.

"What's her kid's name, then."

That actually stopped Vestrin cold. His hesitation showed and Cosnu didn't hesitate to pounce on it. He made a grab for the key but Vestrin snatched it away and grabbed his hand jamming it down against the cross bar, slamming the fat man's face right into the bar. "She never told me about her kid," He said calmly. As Cosnu struggled in vain, Vestrin continued in that same cold voice. "She told me about a world class assassin trying to put her in an urn before her time and that if I didn't find her gods damned soon she was going to have to go north to the elf lands. . ."

"Nghh-" Cosnu struggled all the more. Vestrin pulled his arm down. It wouldn't be much farther before it was dislocated.

"So I'll ask again. Did she go north?"

"Ngh- Y- Yes!"

"Don't lie to me," Vestrin twisted the man's arm. "You wanna walk outta 'ere or explain why the guard's passed out in your cell? They're gonna hang you. Help me and I'll help you."

"She went south!" One of the men in the other cage said. "She's on the caravan route!"

Cosnu shouted at the man. "No, you fucking idiot!"

Vestrin held Cosnu's arm tight, his brown eyes flitting towards the man who'd spoken. He was wearing the remains of a militia uniform probably belonging to the village- "And the Diamonds girl?"

"She went West. I think. Her partner took her and ran the opposite way. Like towards Pastow!" Someone nudged him, muttering to shut up but he kept on going. "He's got kids, man, let him go. She left a few days ago when the soldiers locked us down, she's probably goin' to the Free States."

Watching the militia member Vestrin released the Sheriff's arm. "Well, aint that some shit. You sure the assassin girl wasn't chasing after her? Who else was with her?"

"I don't think so-"

"Don't tell him shit!"

"Keep going," he said calmly and turned the key over in his hand once more. "Keep going and I'll forget I was here."

"S- She was with a few people- another blade ear, some young guy and a kid."

"A kid?"

"Yeah! He was in a little robe and-"

"Aint no kid I saw," said another guard. He held out his hand to Vestrin for the key. "It's a little monster, one'f them tiny dragons-"

"Nah, nah, it was a tosser! Like onna those people you paint up at the fair and toss at a board!"

A bunch of rambling broke out over what the other person was but Vestrin quickly shut it out, turning to Cosnu. "You wanna get out of here right now, I'll let you out."

He looked surprised. Even started to thank him, even if he hated the idea.

"But," Vestrin bobbed the key just out of reach. "I wanna know her kid's name."

Cosnu's eyes followed the key. Once. Twice. Three times. His shoulders sagged.