Gilford

CAIVAN

The road back to Qarax could be treacherous when need be. And it's not just the uncontrollable, unpredictable winter wolves and the snake-genn robbers that prowl the woods in summer. I travel in those times as well, but using the back roads. It's autumn though, and there are rumors of gazes migrating. Those vile hoofed beasts will attack any living thing in sight. They move through the back roads, so I have to avoid those for a while, even though it is likely hearsay. I'm not about to take my chances. And it has been ages since I traversed the King's Road. 

It's infuriating though. I recall days (the good ones, before he became alpha) when father and uncle Teran would go hunting with a few members of the pack. They'd return with enough meat to last us for months. When Xanwed took power in the bedlam of the rebellion, he declared gazens and deer off limits for hunts. And that's not the only law he made that sucks. 

There are five stops to Qarax; as father's map shows. The sky has taken on a grey hue, becoming cloudy when I make my first stop at a village. A sign on a post in front of the entrance reads, "Gilford". 

I dismount my horse and lead it into the settlement slowly. The back roads have their dark sides, but humans tend to have darker tendencies, so I don't let my guard down. I enter cautiously, listening and watching. 

It's quite irrelevant though. I've forgotten about the Fall Festival and the Hunt, so the decorations and the singing and smell of cooking hits me as odd for a while. A rather mundane celebration of the deer god that Xanwed had established, but it's almost obvious that he wants everyone to remember the Rebellion, and the repercussions. 

I lead my horse through the street on the lookout for a less conspicuous inn. Garlands of flowers line doors and roofs of buildings, poles of metal and wood are at every turn mounted with a carving of deer's horn. Children run about with hats emblazoned with hoof signs and carry sticks. It takes me a moment to notice that these sticks are topped with carvings as well, but not horns. I bristle with anger as I realize they are wolf heads, mimicked in exact detail, to look like a staking. 

It's in the village square as well. A circle of sticks, with wolf heads mounted on them. Some of them are of wood…most of them are actual wolf skulls. In the middle of the circle is a medium-sized sculpture of Xanwed, hand raised as though issuing their executions…which he actually did. The sound of music distracts me from watching the square. An inn is nearby, The King's Hand, its sign reads, and that's where I head. 

It's not dark as I had thought it would be. Firefly lamps are in each corner of the room, gas lamps are in stands by the counter and at the back of the room, all illuminating the place. The men in here are few, which is perfect for me, and a woman sits alone on a rostrum, strumming a lyre that produces the soft music I had heard. I also recognize the tune she plays. Rainbow In The Desert. 

I must have stood here for more than a minute because a lady taps my shoulder. 'Hello', she flashes me a too-wide grin, 'Anything we can help you with?' I nod and gesture outside. 'My horse will need tending to. And I would like a pint of piniard, if you will'. 'Aron will fix you up. I'll go get the stable lads for your horse', she says sweetly and heads outside. 

I can feel their eyes on me as I cross the parlor to the bar and I reckon a man in a black silk coat is not common sight here in Gilford. Or any place else. I should have ditched the coat when I left Eldad, but it costs ten sithras. Plus, blending in has never really been my strong suit. 

The bartender, Aron, is a lean youth looking to be in his early twenties, the typical Quindarian youth too buggered with his own angst to give a damn about the world. He calls out the line, 'What can I get you?' flatly, but when he looks up at me, his eyes lit up for a second. 'You're from the capital? A king's man?' he asks. 'Maybe. Maybe not. Can I have my drink?' He turns around and pulls out a bottle from an inconspicuous rack. He tosses it into the air, pulls a cup over and catches the drink before pouring it adeptly. 'Here you go', he says, pushing it over. I catch the cup before it goes over the edge of the table and put the glass to my lips, but I don't drink. After two sniffs, I'm sure the drink is safe and I gulp it down in two swigs. 

Aron leans on the counter. I give him a look, packing all the "DO NOT DISTURB" I can into that glance, but he must be a bullheaded person. 'I hear tell that the king is putting together a team of hunters, in search of the Bevin horns. How true is it?' I totally had forgotten about all that, what with other disturbing news I had for father and the girl. The elf with the luminous eyes. 'Perhaps you can put in a good word for me', he says hopefully. 'What makes you think I'm from Qarax, let alone from the king's court?' He smirks like he's gotten a correct answer in a classroom. 'That cloak is of fine make, the kinds worn by few of the king's council. Your accent is northern as well. You tell more than you're willing to let on', he says. Okay, now I have to ditch this cloak. 'Nice assessment, kid', I reply, and tap my glass for more, 'I'm from Galwen, so you're right about me being northern. Just not from the capital. And I got this cloak from a dead man'. He pauses in pouring my drink, and I'm pleased that I've put him off until I realize he's looking over my shoulder. 

Someone slips into the chair beside me without a sound, and my senses perk up. I don't have to hear him order the same drink I have, or see his face to know it's Elwyn Nordinger. 

He gives me a grin but I don't acknowledge him. I don't want to think of what he's doing here, but I do want to have my drink in peace. 'Darion and The Six favors you, my friend', he says, 'It's quite a small world, don't you think? Even Vance wouldn't have foreseen us meeting here, of all places'. 'I'm going to be frank, Nordinger, I do not want you here. And if Darion favors me, he sure as hell does not look upon you the same way, because I won't repeat myself twice', I snap. His smile falters, but only awhile. 'I heard you were in the king's mission. I'd hoped to see you in Halden, but perhaps you took a detour?' Aron knocks a glass over and I know he's overheard us. 

I turn, and I look at Elwyn with as much dislike as I can muster. 'What do you want?' He tilts his head and gulps his drink. 'Is there anything wrong in a meeting between friends?' 'If there's one thing we are, it's not friends. You're a pathetic, scheming dirty elf, with no regard for anyone but yourself. I am not. We are in fact, polar opposites'. He grinds his teeth and says, 'You're right. You are not. You're a wolven'.