Destiny (Heroes by Necessity Book 3) Page 5

  “We could disguise ourselves,” Ermolt suggested. “You two can act like you’re married, and I’ll be Athala’s bodyguard.”

  “Why my bodyguard? Why not hers?”

  “Athala, you are so painfully, obviously highborn,” Elise said with a chuckle. Ermolt laughed too, and Athala even smiled. “It’s a good idea, Ermolt. But I think they expect us to be together. Being a group of three is going to raise suspicions, no matter what story we tell.”

  The group fell silent for a moment. “We could find someone transporting goods into town,” Athala said. She twirled one of her coarse black curls around a finger. “We could bribe them to hide us in their cart?”

  “That never works the way you would think,” Ermolt said with a chuckle. “You have to offer them way more than the reward the guards might give, and you run the risk of them double crossing you. Why settle for just the one payment when they could get the reward as well?” He looked off towards the city. “The sort of folk who would keep secrets from the City Guard tend not to be the trustworthy sort.” He paused and looked between Elise and Athala, who had stopped and were staring at him. “What? You think nobody has tried that before?”

  “I really hadn’t considered it,” Elise said, trying to hold back her laughter. “I’ve heard tales where the hero does it, but never news about someone actually infiltrating somewhere with that trick.”

  “That’s because they don’t. You always get caught. Not that I’d know personally or anything,” he added in a tone that said quite firmly the opposite.

  Athala chuckled. “Alright. Well, that’s a good point though. If we had a reliable contact within the city to help us, I’d think it might be worth a shot. But I hadn’t considered that we’d be walking up to a stranger for it.”

  Silence fell over them again and Elise tore her blade of grass into tiny pieces as she thought. “What... what if we don’t approach as three? I know it’s risky to be separated—we won’t be able to look out for each other—but it’s better to avoid trouble entirely than to invite it and be prepared.”

  “That’s true. If they just got word from Jalova, they might not even have good descriptions of us.” Athala picked at her thumb. “As long as we make an effort to not be... ourselves... they shouldn’t be able to stop us. Much.”

  “Right.” Elise nodded. “Ermolt is probably the most conspicuous, so he should go first.”

  “If someone is hiring mercenaries, I can say that I’ve heard there’s a call for fighters.” Ermolt held his hand out to Athala. “Can I have your hair tie? I’ll put my hair up, and you can put yours down.”

  “Good start,” Elise said as Athala handed over her tie. “You could also say that you’re exiled from Klav for some religious transgression.”

  “Actually, I was thinking I should say as little as possible.” Ermolt grimaced as he tried to gather his unruly hair together. “Might be easier to not be recognized if I don’t say much.”

  “Be prepared anyway. They might not accept grunts in place of answers for questions if they’re worried about who you are and where you’re from.”

  “Right,” Ermolt said, fumbling with the tie.

  “Give me that,” Athala said. She snatched the hair tie from his clumsy hands and Ermolt turned his back to her so she could help. He also scrunched down to lower his head so she could reach without standing up. “I’m probably the worst liar, so I should go after Ermolt.” She looped the band around Ermolt’s wavy hair twice, and tied it off. “Should... um, should I do something different too?” She ran her fingers through her hair, the curls bouncing into a massive halo that framed her face.

  “Do you think it can be tamed without another hair tie?”

  “Not without another bell to play with it,” Athala admitted with a grin.

  “I think it should be fine then,” Elise said.

  “Oh!” Ermolt said with a snap of his fingers. “You could tell the guards you’re coming to Jirda to see that instructor.”

  “Sieghard isn’t really an instructor. Not anymore, at any rate.”

  “Still. You’re here to study under him.” Ermolt shrugged. “Not a lie, so should be easy to say. You’ll just need to come up with a different name. And not mention anything that’s happened in, oh, the last six months or so.”

  “Right! Yes.” Athala nodded. “I can do that.”

  “And since I’m the one who’s likely to have the easiest time getting in, I’ll go last,” Elise said, tugging at her tabard. “I’ll have to be the most honest, since they’re likely searching bags, but there are a thousand reasons for a Conscript of one Temple to visit another. I’ll just fall back on one of those, depending on the situation.”

  “A sound plan,” Ermolt said before standing up. “I should get going then. As soon as I’m past the gate, I’ll head to the nearest tavern I can find. Just a straight line from the gate. Shouldn’t be too hard to find me from there.”

  Elise and Athala watched him walk away in silence. He was easy to pick out among the crowd at the gates. Very little was said once he was gone, but at least they no longer argued.

  When Ermolt got closer to the front of the line, Athala left as well. The wizard blended into the crowd easily, and Elise lost the ability to watch her after just a moment. Instead, she watched Ermolt reach the Guards. He didn’t have to linger long before they let him into the city.

  About half a bell after Athala left, Elise collected her blanket and made her own way down towards the gates. She prayed to Ydia that everything went well.

  Chapter Eight

  Elise had never been a huge fan of lines. Even when they didn’t stretch over a kren from a city she was trying to infiltrate so she could kill its God’s dragon.

  Most of her frustration came from two sources: the sun and the merchants.

  The seasons had slowly been changing the past few weeks, and Elise welcomed the autumn and winter months. The heat of the day was generally much less intense and it made standing around in armor more enjoyable.

  But there was always a day or so when autumn refused to turn and the sun beat down on Neuges as if Vitos, God of the Day, was attempting to punish those who enjoyed the season.

  Elise shifted uneasily under her tabard and armor. She couldn’t remove either without causing a bit of a scene. So she broiled in them, hating the life choices that had brought her to this particular spot on this particular day. Sweat ran down her face in rivulets, obscuring her vision and making her generally uncomfortable.

  Then there were the merchants.

  Elise had walked up into line between two merchants who apparently knew each other. They spent the last half a bell talking around her, as if she were no more than a potted plant. And it wasn’t as if they were talking about anything interesting. At first it had been small talk, as it always was, with comments on the weather and inquiries after the wellbeing of the others children. But eventually, as all merchants do, they began to discuss economics. Specifically, the price of salt.

  Which, as it freely ran down Elise’s face, made her grumpier.

  It started innocently enough as an off-handed comment about the price of hard cheese in Lublis. The other had exclaimed a laughing “don’t get me started!” even though, unfortunately, he already had.

  The man’s cheese-related tirade went on for at least a quarter of a bell—although in this Nether-touched hellscape, it could have been much, much longer.

  It didn’t help that the other merchant seemed to not know much about the subject. There were a thousand questions, and the ranting merchant would go on and on, describing every variety of cheese Elise had ever heard of, specifically their relative prices, weights, and the markers of quality that could influence their value.

  Elise wanted to abandon her quest for Ydia so she could destroy every hunk of cheese on Neuges in an attempt to circumvent her ever being in this type of situation again.

  Eventually they moved on to other topics, but before one or the other could get invested once
more in a tirade that would make Elise prone to physically harming one of them, they crossed into the shade thrown by the tall gates of Jirda.

  Immediately, Elise’s stomach curled in upon itself and she wished she could go back in time to the beginning of the cheese discussion.

  There were three Guards at the gate. Two of them checked the belongings of those coming in to the city, while one of them helped usher out those who were trying to leave. It was a well-executed system, although they seemed to be getting bogged down in details, causing the line with their thoroughness.

  The merchant ahead of Elise—the man who had ranted about cheese and who had six children and an ailing wife that Elise knew basically everything about because the man had a mouth on him the size of a dinner plate—was, quite unexpectedly, a cheese merchant. In his cart he had multiple rounds of the stuff, of various shapes, sizes and flavors. When the blankets were thrown back, the smell was atrocious. He explained that he tried to keep it cool with purified water treated with saltpeter, but the hot sun and long line had done a number on the cheese.

  As the man was questioned and his goods were searched, Elise was surprised to see how unsticky the Guard’s fingers were. In nearly every situation she’d ever been in, where searching through the belongings of another was involved, the Guards would pocket things like expensive treats. And if the merchant’s complaints had been valid, apparently cheese was turning out to be quite the expensive commodity.

  But nothing vanished from the man’s cart, and eventually he was let inside with a round of smiles and some pleasantries.

  Athala had to be wrong about the state of the economy in Jirda. There was no way the Guards were well paid enough to be so virtuous.

  “Next!” one of the Guards said with an overly gruff growl. Elise stepped forward, smiling her best smile even though her back teeth continued to grind together. “Name and place of origin?”

  “Marien Helds,” Elise said, giving the name easily as she had spent the last bell practicing it as a way to distract herself from the conversation of the merchants. “And I hail from Khule.”

  “May I please see your bag?” the younger Guard to his right asked, and Elise handed over her things with that same practiced smile.

  “What brings you to Jirda?” the first Guard asked while eyeing her tabard. The man seemed bored, going through the motions while his companion looked through Elise’s pack. She tried to not get irritated with the haphazard way he handled her intimate possessions.

  “I am a Conscript of Ydia on pilgrimage to help teach the Conscripts of Numara about shield fighting.” The lie came easily enough—it was a thing Elise had seen happen a thousand times before. “I’m to meet—”

  “We’ve been told to look for a Conscript of Ydia.” He turned and gathered a bit of parchment from the table behind him. When he turned back, Elise could see it was another wanted poster. A horrible depiction of Elise’s face glared back at her. The nose was just all wrong.

  “Oh! Looks like Elise. What trouble has she gotten herself into this time?”

  “You know the woman?”

  Elise was suddenly aware that all of the Guards had turned to face her, even the man who was supposed to be ushering people out of the city. Inwardly, she cursed herself for trying to be coy. “Of course,” she lied, shrugging. “All Conscripts know each other in some form. The woman you’re looking for is Elise Bresch, a low-ranking Conscript of little use.” Elise rolled her eyes. “I assume she’s been doing some petty theft again? I told Nolte he should never have tried to raise a child thief to a Conscript.”

  The Guard watched her for a moment and then shook his head. “No, nothing like that. The Prophet is looking for her, is all. A bit of questioning about something that happened in Jalova.” He paused. “You didn’t come from Jalova by any chance, did you?”

  “Of course not. Quickest way from Khule is straight through Lublis.” Elise laughed, a dainty thing that physically hurt her to do. “Although I should have detoured, now that I think about it. I’ve always wanted to try a mug of Jalovan Cave Pepper beer.”

  The younger Guard grinned. “That stuff is horrible,” he said shaking his head.

  “Well, of course. But a Conscript must experience all they can when given leave from the Temple.” She sighed wistfully. “Another time, perhaps.”

  Elise turned her attention back to the older Guard. He still held the wanted poster and was examining it closely. “This ‘Elise’ looks a lot like you.”

  “I should hope so. The Bresch and Helds families actually contain many of the same ancestral markers. While I wouldn’t go as far as to call Elise a cousin, we are, technically, related due to some long-ago tryst.” Elise sniffed. “I’m just glad the Helds family got the cuter nose.”

  “We’re also looking for a Lublish woman—a wizard. Dark skin, dark hair, penchant for looking well kept. Have you seen her?”

  Elise was suddenly glad for their weeks in the wilderness—Athala had likely passed through the gates with little real trouble, due to her disheveled appearance. “Not a specific woman in particular? I mean, dark skin and dark hair could match almost any woman from Lublis, or even Feldhok or Khule, if you wanted to get technical. And, having just came from Lublis, I can tell you that they all have a penchant for looking well kept.”

  “What about a northern barbarian?”

  “Aren’t they usually really tall? I would think it would be easy to find one of them.”

  “Hm,” the Guard answered, frowning. “So why exactly are you here in Jirda again?”

  Elise bristled but swallowed the angry retort that came to mind. There was no use in getting arrested for being mouthy with the Guards when she was trying to avoid be arrested because some person with the moniker of “the Prophet” was looking for her. “I’m here to teach the Conscripts of Numara some techniques with the shield.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Generally speaking, it could mean anything. But technically speaking I’ve been asked to come show the Conscripts how to use a shield as a weapon, instead of just using it to block attacks.” Elise shrugged, trying to draw attention to the shield secured to her arm. “And then after I’ve taught them that for a few days, they’ll share some interesting new thing with me. I’m hoping it’ll be something about their unique way of handling two-handed fighting. And then I’ll return home and teach it to the Conscripts in Khule.”

  “And so the Temple of Numara is expecting you?”

  “Yes?” Elise said sarcastically before shaking her head. “I mean, I hope so. I haven’t heard from Fronica in a few days, not since before I left Khule. There isn’t much of a way to get correspondence while on the road. But the Temple isn’t expecting me, specifically. Just a Conscript.”

  “Hm,” he said again, frowning. He looked down at the wanted poster. “See, thing is, as I mentioned, we’re looking for a Conscript of Ydia. And we’ve already seen a northern barbarian and a dark-skinned wizard today.” He pinned Elise with a glare. “I’m thinking you’re the Conscript we seek.”

  Elise tried to stay relaxed. If she swallowed hard or made some other movement of discomfort, she would give herself away. She forced herself to blink at the man before laughing. “Well, if you’re looking on behalf of the Temple of Numara, it might be me. I still think that woman looks like Elise, but I suppose all of us from Khule could be said to look alike.”

  “It is not the Temple who seeks this woman or her companions.”

  “Right,” Elise said, unable to keep the haughtiness from her tone. “You mentioned something about a Prophet. How silly of me.”

  “There’s a very high reward for detaining this woman if she tries to come into the city.”

  Elise crossed her arms over her chest. “And what happens if you bring in the wrong one? As I mentioned, I’m not the woman you seek.”

  The Guard shrugged. “Don’t think that was rightly explained.” He placed the wanted posted down on a small table to his side. “And at a
ny rate, better safe than sorry, right?”

  Elise glared at the Guards. They hadn’t stepped forward yet to arrest her, but they also were all now focused on her, and only her. A thousand different quips flew through Elise’s mind as she tried to figure out a way out of this situation. Not one seemed applicable. “Well, let—”

  “There you are!” a voice exclaimed from behind the Guards. All three turned to look at the aging gentleman that tried to push past them. “Have you been here all morning? The Temple waits, and we have no time for more delays.”

  For one panicked moment, Elise had no idea what was going on. The man fixed her with a glare and grabbed her wrist. He drew her forward with a bit of strength, winking at her as he did. Elise immediately relaxed.

  “Are you from the Temple?” the older Guard asked.

  “You’ve let this barricade go to your head, young man,” the old fellow snapped as he drew Elise forward more. “You’re questioning people who are already in the city. Do your job, for the glory of the Prophet or whatever, but leave me out of it.” He tugged on Elise’s arm. “Come, child.”

  “W-wait, my bag.” Elise motioned at the younger Guard.

  “Oh for the love of Numara,” the old man said with an exhausted huff. “Come then! Give the woman her things so we can be on our way.”

  “I haven’t said you could go, old man,” the first Guard said, even as the younger Guard handed over Elise’s knapsack. It was in total disarray and would take her at least a bell to reorganize. But she would rather do that than rot in some holding cell as she waited for whomever the Prophet was to investigate her. Or interrogate, as it may be.

  “Do you dare delay us more? I’ve been waiting for this Conscript for bells now. It’s hot, I’ve been on my feet for more bells than necessarily healthy for my age, and I’m in much need of my comfortable chair. If you need her, she’ll be at the Temple for the next few days or so until she returns to Khule.” The old man tugged at her arm and Elise went willingly enough.