length by the shoulders. “The days to come will be hard, Alexander. But you must face your duty. Many depend on you now.”
“I didn’t ask for this and I don’t want it.” His face was a mask of misery.
Anatoly looked back with the maddening resolve that Alexander knew all too well. “Be that as it may, this is your duty now. You have only one decision to make. Will you accept the responsibility you have been given or will you run from it?”
Alexander stood silently, tears flowing down his face, and stared back at his old teacher as if refusing to answer the question would negate the reality of the situation.
“For what it’s worth, Alexander, I already know the answer to that question because I know you, maybe even better than you know yourself.” Anatoly clapped him on the shoulder. “Now go get some sleep. It’ll be dawn soon.”
They rode hard from dawn to dusk for the next two days and made the outskirts of Southport late in the afternoon on the third day.
Southport was a sprawling port town on the west coast of Ruatha a couple of days’ ride from the south edge of the Great Forest. It was a major trading hub that shipped the cattle, grain, and corn produced on the fertile plains and grasslands of southern Ruatha to other ports all around the Seven Isles. Goods of all varieties were in turn shipped into Southport to make their way inland along the three well-traveled roads that went north, east, and south.
Alexander had been here several times with his father and brother to sell herds of cattle and bushels of wheat and to buy wagonloads of all manner of goods needed to run Valentine Manor’s vast estate. He knew it wasn’t a place to let your guard down. It was home to all kinds of people, from reputable merchants, tradesmen and sailors to thieves, con artists and cutthroat murderers. It was the kind of place a person could get lost in.
The houses on the outskirts of town were mostly run-down and poorly kept. The people who inhabited them were about the same. Alexander checked his sword to make sure it was loose in its scabbard.
“We should find an inn with a stable where we can have a hot meal and a warm, dry bed for the night,” Anatoly said as he reined in his horse a few paces from the gate. Southport had a wall surrounding the city in a half circle that radiated away from the seaport. It wasn’t much of a wall anymore. There were many places where one could find a way in without passing through a gate, but not with horses, let alone a wagon.
The disinterested guard came out of the small shack looking annoyed to be out in the rain again. “State your business.” He seemed impatient. The drizzle left tiny dark spots on his damp oilskin cloak.
“We’re travelers in need of shelter for the night,” Anatoly said from atop his big horse as he flipped a silver coin to the man. The guard caught it, gave the coin a hard look and nodded. “Very well then, be on your way.”
He leered at Abigail and her long blond hair when they rode by. Alexander relaxed his focus to look at the guard’s colors. He saw a mix of lust, greed, and petty selfishness, but no threat. He returned a hard look and the guard pretended to take a sudden interest in his reports.
They passed through the gate and into the city to the sucking sound of horses’ hooves in muck. The place stank of manure and human waste. Alexander kept his guard up and his pain at bay. Anatoly’s words from a few nights ago nagged at him again and he pretended that he hadn’t yet made up his mind, but somewhere deeper he knew that he had.
As they made their way through the sea of buildings toward the center of town, Alexander caught a glimpse of something on one of the rooftops but it was gone behind a brick chimney before he could make out what it was. He shook his head as he recalled his father’s words: “There are strange things in the big city, best to leave them be and attend to your business.” Good advice, but something
“I didn’t ask for this and I don’t want it.” His face was a mask of misery.
Anatoly looked back with the maddening resolve that Alexander knew all too well. “Be that as it may, this is your duty now. You have only one decision to make. Will you accept the responsibility you have been given or will you run from it?”
Alexander stood silently, tears flowing down his face, and stared back at his old teacher as if refusing to answer the question would negate the reality of the situation.
“For what it’s worth, Alexander, I already know the answer to that question because I know you, maybe even better than you know yourself.” Anatoly clapped him on the shoulder. “Now go get some sleep. It’ll be dawn soon.”
They rode hard from dawn to dusk for the next two days and made the outskirts of Southport late in the afternoon on the third day.
Southport was a sprawling port town on the west coast of Ruatha a couple of days’ ride from the south edge of the Great Forest. It was a major trading hub that shipped the cattle, grain, and corn produced on the fertile plains and grasslands of southern Ruatha to other ports all around the Seven Isles. Goods of all varieties were in turn shipped into Southport to make their way inland along the three well-traveled roads that went north, east, and south.
Alexander had been here several times with his father and brother to sell herds of cattle and bushels of wheat and to buy wagonloads of all manner of goods needed to run Valentine Manor’s vast estate. He knew it wasn’t a place to let your guard down. It was home to all kinds of people, from reputable merchants, tradesmen and sailors to thieves, con artists and cutthroat murderers. It was the kind of place a person could get lost in.
The houses on the outskirts of town were mostly run-down and poorly kept. The people who inhabited them were about the same. Alexander checked his sword to make sure it was loose in its scabbard.
“We should find an inn with a stable where we can have a hot meal and a warm, dry bed for the night,” Anatoly said as he reined in his horse a few paces from the gate. Southport had a wall surrounding the city in a half circle that radiated away from the seaport. It wasn’t much of a wall anymore. There were many places where one could find a way in without passing through a gate, but not with horses, let alone a wagon.
The disinterested guard came out of the small shack looking annoyed to be out in the rain again. “State your business.” He seemed impatient. The drizzle left tiny dark spots on his damp oilskin cloak.
“We’re travelers in need of shelter for the night,” Anatoly said from atop his big horse as he flipped a silver coin to the man. The guard caught it, gave the coin a hard look and nodded. “Very well then, be on your way.”
He leered at Abigail and her long blond hair when they rode by. Alexander relaxed his focus to look at the guard’s colors. He saw a mix of lust, greed, and petty selfishness, but no threat. He returned a hard look and the guard pretended to take a sudden interest in his reports.
They passed through the gate and into the city to the sucking sound of horses’ hooves in muck. The place stank of manure and human waste. Alexander kept his guard up and his pain at bay. Anatoly’s words from a few nights ago nagged at him again and he pretended that he hadn’t yet made up his mind, but somewhere deeper he knew that he had.
As they made their way through the sea of buildings toward the center of town, Alexander caught a glimpse of something on one of the rooftops but it was gone behind a brick chimney before he could make out what it was. He shook his head as he recalled his father’s words: “There are strange things in the big city, best to leave them be and attend to your business.” Good advice, but something
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