Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Memoirs of a Mercenary ❯ Chapter 9
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: marriedmiko 
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Martial Arts / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.06.2012 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 270 | Status: Work In Progress
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Mystery / Martial Arts / Adventure | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.06.2012 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.6K | Visits: 270 | Status: Work In Progress
Long time no write. Just posting some stuff I had already written up here. Dunno if I’ll be writing more in the near future or not.
Chapter 9
I walked back into the tavern, and sidled up to the bar. The bartender looked at me out of the corner of his eye as he wiped something mostly clean with a cloth. He pulled out a clean cup, and poured something into it, setting it in front of me. I eyed it suspiciously.
“It’s not alcohol,” he said simply. I had learned early on that the strange-tasting drinks the customers I served seemed to like best did not agree with me. I had been sick for two days after a tankard of pretty mild stuff.
I gave it a good sniff and found it to be juice, so I drank it all in one go. The glass gave a satisfying thunk as I set it back down.
“I’m leaving,” I announced.
The bartender burst out laughing and for one horrifying moment I thought he meant to keep me there by some unknown force.
“You’d be an idiot if you didn’t!” he said at last. “Besides, I couldn’t very well keep you around, after that. Bad for business.” His language was still difficult for me to grasp, but I got the gist of it. He refilled my glass with water, and I drank slower. He watched me closely, and I got the impression he was waiting for something
“What?” I asked slowly.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
The question surprised me, and I took another swallow of water to cover my hesitation. “South,” I answered vaguely.
“Tasosona or Guridame?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant so I just shrugged.
“Well, you’ll need supplies either way. You can buy food from me, but for the other things there’s a good outfitter down the street.”
Other things? I wondered. What else would I need, other than food?
But he went on. “The doorway has a blue cloth on it,” he waved his cleaning rag, which was also a dull blue, “Blue. Get it?”
I nodded. “I guess I’ll buy that food then.”
He nodded and went back to scrounge up some supplies. Fortunately I discovered that the food which wouldn’t spoil was the sort I could tolerate – tough breads and vegetables, a few pieces of dried meat and fruit. I pulled out a handful of coins and stared at them. I hadn’t handled money the entire time I’d worked there and I had no clue what the food cost.
With a sigh, he dug through my handful and pulled out a silver coin and a few coppers. I realized belatedly that he had actually earned my trust, despite how much I resented working for him. At the time I couldn’t appreciate just how much he had done for me, but I knew I was somewhat in his debt.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
He smiled and rubbed at the counter absently, “If you ever come by this way again, stop in for a bit, you hear?”
I shook my head. “I probably won’t be back.” I paused. “Goodbye, boss.”
“Maber,” he corrected.
“Maber.” I gathered up my things, feeling awkward, as if I’d made some faux pas in the farewell.
As I stepped out into the warm sunlight the feeling lifted, though, replaced by a sort of pleasant anxiety. I stared around the small town with new eyes. There were still some puddles in the road from yesterday’s rain, and as an ox went by his hooves made a sort of squelching sound. A small pig ran up the street, startling chickens out of the way, and a dirty child came running after it. The sunlight dimmed and brightened as small rain clouds scuttled by, and the weeds growing up beside the rough wooden building sported a few simple blooms. Across the street, two men argued over the price of a bridle, and an old man sat smoking, staring at nothing.
All this was no longer my prison, and the thought brought a sense of glory to my dingy surroundings. I set out along the dirt road, not even minding the mud pulling at my shoes. The outfitter with the blue cloth door wasn’t hard to spot, it was three shops down on the opposite side of the road.
I stepped inside and looked around. The walls were lined with shelves, which held all manner of articles: boots and tackle, bags of various sizes, packages and boxes labeled with indecipherable writing.
The owner of the shop was busy with another customer, a tall skinny fellow who looked like he needed a bath most of all, and there were several others milling about the shop, so I stood there, feeling rather helpless. I didn’t even know what I needed, much less how much it should cost, or even how to count out the money.
“What the hell am I going to do?” I muttered to myself bleakly.
A man standing a few feet away from me suddenly looked up from his examination of a straw hat.
“Excuse me,” he said, “Did you just say ‘What am I going to do’?”
I frowned at him. “No, I said what the hell am I going to do. You got a problem with that?”
He seemed un-intimidated. “What does ‘hell’ mean?” he asked interestedly.
“It’s a place you can go, for all I care!” He was really starting to irritate me.
“Oh, I see. It’s an expletive.” He seemed quite pleased and I realized he really had been interested in the meaning of my words.
“What’s an expletive?” I asked absently, something tugging at the back of my mind.
He paused a moment, his lips scrunched up in a funny expression. “It’s like… something you shout when you’re angry. Or speaking rudely.”
Suddenly my mind clicked, like a door unlocking. “You’re speaking my language!”
He smiled, showing a row of slightly crooked but white teeth. “Yes, I speak some Arjuni.”
“Arjuni?” I had often heard the word flung at me, and had figured it for an insult.
The man made a dismissive gesture. “Arjuni is the Gana name for your language. And people. It means… well it’s not very polite what it means, so never mind.”
I was more curious about the man than other peoples’ words. “How is it you speak it? You don’t look like a warrior, and they seem to be the only others who know any words.”
It was true – he didn’t look like a warrior. He wore a funny round cap on his head, and his clothes, while not expensive-looking, were more fashionable than practical. Altogether, he looked a bit out of place in the outfitter’s.
“I am a scholar. I study languages. I’ve been up north for some time studying the local dialects.” He seemed quite proud of it, too.
I was surprised. “And people pay you to do this?”
His face broke, and then he laughed, a hand absently rubbing his hat. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? To tell the truth I’ve been stuck in this town for a while now. I pick up the odd job as a scribe to get by, but I’m not good for much else and well…” he looked around, “there’s not much demand for a scribe around here anyway.”
I smiled, the man seemed to have a sense of humor about his situation, which I found refreshing.
“Until recently, I was in the same badger hole, but I managed to fight my way out,” I sighed, “as usual.”
His face lit up as he took in the sight of my two swords. “Ah, you must be the girl everyone was talking about this morning. How very interesting.” He said the last word as if he enjoyed it very much.
I really didn’t feel like talking about me, so I turned the discussion back to him. “What is it you can’t afford?” I gestured about the room.
He sighed heavily. “Well it would depend on how I was going, but it hardly matters, since I can’t afford transportation or protection.”
“Protection?”
“Oh yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I couldn’t just go walking on the highway all by my lonesome. I’d be killed for sure!”
“Killed? By who?”
He frowned. “Bandits, of course.” He studied me for a moment, “you know, for an Arjuni, you don’t seem to know much about this sort of thing.”
“Where are you going?” I re-diverted the conversation once more.
Again he sighed. He seemed quite exasperated with himself. “Guridame,” he said, as if admitting some fault of his.
I remembered the word as one Maber had said. “South, then?”
He laughed, full out, and I smiled awkwardly. “Ay, south would be the way.” Unbeknownst to me, I had obviously told a very funny joke.
“Well, I’m headed in the same direction. I could serve as your protection, at least for a while.”
He held out his hands, palm up. “But I can’t pay you.”
I gestured around the room. “I don’t know what I need. Or how to count the money. If you could help me with that, I’d be more than happy to travel with you.”
His eyebrows lifted slowly, and he looked at me suspiciously. “Why should I trust you?”
I frowned, confused. “Why shouldn’t you?”
He stared blankly at me for a long, hard moment. The he shrugged and muttered something in his own language. “Alright, let’s see how much money you have.”
I hesitated a moment, but realized if he tried to bolt with my money, I’d probably catch him before he got out the door. And he probably knew that, too. I untied my new purse and handed it to him.
He quickly counted the coins, tallying the sum in his head. “Well, you don’t have enough for transportation for both of us, at least not for the whole way. If you’re confident enough in your abilities, I’d definitely suggest we go by foot.
“I once killed more than twenty men in little more than half an hour,” I boasted. Granted, I wasn’t sure I could replicate that kind of success, but I’d killed one man in my right mind, too.
“I’d believe that,” he said sardonically. “Well, just leave everything up to me…” He paused. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself.” He held his hand out. “I am Horiho Yibin, from Anotano.”
I stared at his hand. “Tera.”
He held out his hand a moment longer, and then pulled it back slowly, wiping it on his tunic. “Just Tera?”
I nodded. “You’re the first to say it right, too.” Everyone else says ‘Tay-rah.’ It’s really annoying.”
“Mm,” he mused. “It’s not a sound that’s usually made in Gana.” He seemed distracted, though, as he started plucking things off the shelves: straw hats, oilcloth bedrolls, soap, things I didn’t even recognize.
“Stop me if you already have any of this,” he warned. I never did.
I stood by embarrassed as he haggled mercilessly with the shopkeeper over every last item. He poured out his own purse first, and then finished it off with a few coins from mine.
“Don’t want to be too much in your debt,” he explained with a smile.
Horiho packed everything neatly into the two bedrolls and handed one to me. “We should stop by the inn to pick up my things,” he murmured, more to himself than me, and wandered out the door. I followed.
Watching Horiho walk down the dirt road proved to be amusing. He picked his way carefully, avoiding puddles and horse manure with a wide berth. Even though his long tunic ended several feet above the ground, he lifted the edge of it, better to see his feet.
“You know,” I said, trying not to laugh, “if we’re traveling on foot your shoes are going to get dirty no matter what.”
He stopped in his tracks and sighed. “I know. Some habits are hard to kill, though.” He chuckled a little and continued on his way, trying not to look like too much of an idiot. The inn wasn’t too far away—the town was very small and most of the shops were all along the main road. It was a shabby building, with more than a few roof tiles missing, and in the courtyard were great steaming vats where the innkeeper’s wife took in laundry.
Horiho spoke with the innkeeper for a few minutes, and the old man left, returning with a strange leather pack. It held a square shape, as if there were a box inside of it, and it had one long strap which looped around to the other side. Horiho put the strap around his back, under his arms, and then carefully lifted the pack up and over his head. The end result was that the long strap wrapped once around each shoulder, but the weight pressed against his back rather than just down on the shoulders. It made sense to me but it still looked rather idiotic. He fastened his bedroll on top of the leather pack, and turned to face me with a smile.
“Well,” he said, “even a hawk can’t fly in the dark.”
“What?” I didn’t understand why he was talking about hawks.
He sighed. It was a habit that was starting to annoy me. “It means we should get moving, there’s not much daylight left.”
“Oh. Then why didn’t you say that?”
“It’s a colloquialism,” he explained.
“A what?”
His sigh came out as more of a huff. “Never mind, I’ll explain it as we walk.” He pushed past me and headed directly for the highway.
Chapter 9
I walked back into the tavern, and sidled up to the bar. The bartender looked at me out of the corner of his eye as he wiped something mostly clean with a cloth. He pulled out a clean cup, and poured something into it, setting it in front of me. I eyed it suspiciously.
“It’s not alcohol,” he said simply. I had learned early on that the strange-tasting drinks the customers I served seemed to like best did not agree with me. I had been sick for two days after a tankard of pretty mild stuff.
I gave it a good sniff and found it to be juice, so I drank it all in one go. The glass gave a satisfying thunk as I set it back down.
“I’m leaving,” I announced.
The bartender burst out laughing and for one horrifying moment I thought he meant to keep me there by some unknown force.
“You’d be an idiot if you didn’t!” he said at last. “Besides, I couldn’t very well keep you around, after that. Bad for business.” His language was still difficult for me to grasp, but I got the gist of it. He refilled my glass with water, and I drank slower. He watched me closely, and I got the impression he was waiting for something
“What?” I asked slowly.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
The question surprised me, and I took another swallow of water to cover my hesitation. “South,” I answered vaguely.
“Tasosona or Guridame?”
I wasn’t sure what he meant so I just shrugged.
“Well, you’ll need supplies either way. You can buy food from me, but for the other things there’s a good outfitter down the street.”
Other things? I wondered. What else would I need, other than food?
But he went on. “The doorway has a blue cloth on it,” he waved his cleaning rag, which was also a dull blue, “Blue. Get it?”
I nodded. “I guess I’ll buy that food then.”
He nodded and went back to scrounge up some supplies. Fortunately I discovered that the food which wouldn’t spoil was the sort I could tolerate – tough breads and vegetables, a few pieces of dried meat and fruit. I pulled out a handful of coins and stared at them. I hadn’t handled money the entire time I’d worked there and I had no clue what the food cost.
With a sigh, he dug through my handful and pulled out a silver coin and a few coppers. I realized belatedly that he had actually earned my trust, despite how much I resented working for him. At the time I couldn’t appreciate just how much he had done for me, but I knew I was somewhat in his debt.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
He smiled and rubbed at the counter absently, “If you ever come by this way again, stop in for a bit, you hear?”
I shook my head. “I probably won’t be back.” I paused. “Goodbye, boss.”
“Maber,” he corrected.
“Maber.” I gathered up my things, feeling awkward, as if I’d made some faux pas in the farewell.
As I stepped out into the warm sunlight the feeling lifted, though, replaced by a sort of pleasant anxiety. I stared around the small town with new eyes. There were still some puddles in the road from yesterday’s rain, and as an ox went by his hooves made a sort of squelching sound. A small pig ran up the street, startling chickens out of the way, and a dirty child came running after it. The sunlight dimmed and brightened as small rain clouds scuttled by, and the weeds growing up beside the rough wooden building sported a few simple blooms. Across the street, two men argued over the price of a bridle, and an old man sat smoking, staring at nothing.
All this was no longer my prison, and the thought brought a sense of glory to my dingy surroundings. I set out along the dirt road, not even minding the mud pulling at my shoes. The outfitter with the blue cloth door wasn’t hard to spot, it was three shops down on the opposite side of the road.
I stepped inside and looked around. The walls were lined with shelves, which held all manner of articles: boots and tackle, bags of various sizes, packages and boxes labeled with indecipherable writing.
The owner of the shop was busy with another customer, a tall skinny fellow who looked like he needed a bath most of all, and there were several others milling about the shop, so I stood there, feeling rather helpless. I didn’t even know what I needed, much less how much it should cost, or even how to count out the money.
“What the hell am I going to do?” I muttered to myself bleakly.
A man standing a few feet away from me suddenly looked up from his examination of a straw hat.
“Excuse me,” he said, “Did you just say ‘What am I going to do’?”
I frowned at him. “No, I said what the hell am I going to do. You got a problem with that?”
He seemed un-intimidated. “What does ‘hell’ mean?” he asked interestedly.
“It’s a place you can go, for all I care!” He was really starting to irritate me.
“Oh, I see. It’s an expletive.” He seemed quite pleased and I realized he really had been interested in the meaning of my words.
“What’s an expletive?” I asked absently, something tugging at the back of my mind.
He paused a moment, his lips scrunched up in a funny expression. “It’s like… something you shout when you’re angry. Or speaking rudely.”
Suddenly my mind clicked, like a door unlocking. “You’re speaking my language!”
He smiled, showing a row of slightly crooked but white teeth. “Yes, I speak some Arjuni.”
“Arjuni?” I had often heard the word flung at me, and had figured it for an insult.
The man made a dismissive gesture. “Arjuni is the Gana name for your language. And people. It means… well it’s not very polite what it means, so never mind.”
I was more curious about the man than other peoples’ words. “How is it you speak it? You don’t look like a warrior, and they seem to be the only others who know any words.”
It was true – he didn’t look like a warrior. He wore a funny round cap on his head, and his clothes, while not expensive-looking, were more fashionable than practical. Altogether, he looked a bit out of place in the outfitter’s.
“I am a scholar. I study languages. I’ve been up north for some time studying the local dialects.” He seemed quite proud of it, too.
I was surprised. “And people pay you to do this?”
His face broke, and then he laughed, a hand absently rubbing his hat. “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? To tell the truth I’ve been stuck in this town for a while now. I pick up the odd job as a scribe to get by, but I’m not good for much else and well…” he looked around, “there’s not much demand for a scribe around here anyway.”
I smiled, the man seemed to have a sense of humor about his situation, which I found refreshing.
“Until recently, I was in the same badger hole, but I managed to fight my way out,” I sighed, “as usual.”
His face lit up as he took in the sight of my two swords. “Ah, you must be the girl everyone was talking about this morning. How very interesting.” He said the last word as if he enjoyed it very much.
I really didn’t feel like talking about me, so I turned the discussion back to him. “What is it you can’t afford?” I gestured about the room.
He sighed heavily. “Well it would depend on how I was going, but it hardly matters, since I can’t afford transportation or protection.”
“Protection?”
“Oh yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I couldn’t just go walking on the highway all by my lonesome. I’d be killed for sure!”
“Killed? By who?”
He frowned. “Bandits, of course.” He studied me for a moment, “you know, for an Arjuni, you don’t seem to know much about this sort of thing.”
“Where are you going?” I re-diverted the conversation once more.
Again he sighed. He seemed quite exasperated with himself. “Guridame,” he said, as if admitting some fault of his.
I remembered the word as one Maber had said. “South, then?”
He laughed, full out, and I smiled awkwardly. “Ay, south would be the way.” Unbeknownst to me, I had obviously told a very funny joke.
“Well, I’m headed in the same direction. I could serve as your protection, at least for a while.”
He held out his hands, palm up. “But I can’t pay you.”
I gestured around the room. “I don’t know what I need. Or how to count the money. If you could help me with that, I’d be more than happy to travel with you.”
His eyebrows lifted slowly, and he looked at me suspiciously. “Why should I trust you?”
I frowned, confused. “Why shouldn’t you?”
He stared blankly at me for a long, hard moment. The he shrugged and muttered something in his own language. “Alright, let’s see how much money you have.”
I hesitated a moment, but realized if he tried to bolt with my money, I’d probably catch him before he got out the door. And he probably knew that, too. I untied my new purse and handed it to him.
He quickly counted the coins, tallying the sum in his head. “Well, you don’t have enough for transportation for both of us, at least not for the whole way. If you’re confident enough in your abilities, I’d definitely suggest we go by foot.
“I once killed more than twenty men in little more than half an hour,” I boasted. Granted, I wasn’t sure I could replicate that kind of success, but I’d killed one man in my right mind, too.
“I’d believe that,” he said sardonically. “Well, just leave everything up to me…” He paused. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself.” He held his hand out. “I am Horiho Yibin, from Anotano.”
I stared at his hand. “Tera.”
He held out his hand a moment longer, and then pulled it back slowly, wiping it on his tunic. “Just Tera?”
I nodded. “You’re the first to say it right, too.” Everyone else says ‘Tay-rah.’ It’s really annoying.”
“Mm,” he mused. “It’s not a sound that’s usually made in Gana.” He seemed distracted, though, as he started plucking things off the shelves: straw hats, oilcloth bedrolls, soap, things I didn’t even recognize.
“Stop me if you already have any of this,” he warned. I never did.
I stood by embarrassed as he haggled mercilessly with the shopkeeper over every last item. He poured out his own purse first, and then finished it off with a few coins from mine.
“Don’t want to be too much in your debt,” he explained with a smile.
Horiho packed everything neatly into the two bedrolls and handed one to me. “We should stop by the inn to pick up my things,” he murmured, more to himself than me, and wandered out the door. I followed.
Watching Horiho walk down the dirt road proved to be amusing. He picked his way carefully, avoiding puddles and horse manure with a wide berth. Even though his long tunic ended several feet above the ground, he lifted the edge of it, better to see his feet.
“You know,” I said, trying not to laugh, “if we’re traveling on foot your shoes are going to get dirty no matter what.”
He stopped in his tracks and sighed. “I know. Some habits are hard to kill, though.” He chuckled a little and continued on his way, trying not to look like too much of an idiot. The inn wasn’t too far away—the town was very small and most of the shops were all along the main road. It was a shabby building, with more than a few roof tiles missing, and in the courtyard were great steaming vats where the innkeeper’s wife took in laundry.
Horiho spoke with the innkeeper for a few minutes, and the old man left, returning with a strange leather pack. It held a square shape, as if there were a box inside of it, and it had one long strap which looped around to the other side. Horiho put the strap around his back, under his arms, and then carefully lifted the pack up and over his head. The end result was that the long strap wrapped once around each shoulder, but the weight pressed against his back rather than just down on the shoulders. It made sense to me but it still looked rather idiotic. He fastened his bedroll on top of the leather pack, and turned to face me with a smile.
“Well,” he said, “even a hawk can’t fly in the dark.”
“What?” I didn’t understand why he was talking about hawks.
He sighed. It was a habit that was starting to annoy me. “It means we should get moving, there’s not much daylight left.”
“Oh. Then why didn’t you say that?”
“It’s a colloquialism,” he explained.
“A what?”
His sigh came out as more of a huff. “Never mind, I’ll explain it as we walk.” He pushed past me and headed directly for the highway.