To Haggle With Fate -- White Harbor

[DwMcAliley]

The Baron pulled his tall, sleek roan gelding up in front of the low, broad building. The windows shown warmly in the night, and there was the soft sound of a lute drifting through one of the open frames.

The breezed shifted, and Zeddar smelled the strong fish stink of the docks. This was not the kind of place he wished to spend a moment longer than neccessary.

Zeddar slammed the door open and glared about the room. The floor was swept mostly clean, and the common room was much cleaner than he'd been expecting. Still, the sign over the door with the stylized falcon's hood was perhaps a bit pretentious. This was, after all, a simple shoreside inn in the questionable Dockside district of Skara Brae.

A handful of men in fine linens and even two in silk suddenly hid their faces in the hair or bosom of their 'escorts.' Likely they were minor country lords or the younger sons of some more significant house. Either way, they were beneath the Baron's attention for the moment.

The door started to swing back closed from the force of his entry, and the Baron caught it with the toe of his silver worked boots. He jabbed a finger at the man behind the long, broad bar, and the man froze under his gaze.

"There was a band of five brigands," Zeddar said, "They were tormenting travelers in the countryside on the eastern shore. More than once, they simply killed everyone in a traveling party and took everything they owned. Have you heard of them?"

The man nodded slowly, his eyes wary, "Aye, M'Lord" He said, swallowing hard, "Begging your pardon, but if it's justice you seek, it's already been done."

Zeddar frowned, "What do you mean?" He asked.

"They've been killed," The innkeeper replied, "And four of the bounties have been claimed, though I imagine that's not what brought you here, M'Lord."

The Baron's eyes narrowed, "Why have only four of the bounties been claimed?"

The innkeeper swallowed hard again, "Well, the bounty hunters that attacked them were only three strong. Still, they managed to kill four of the brigands and only lose two of their members. The last bounty hunter faced off with the leader of the Brigands and dueled with him. In the end, the bounty hunter prevailed, but they fought on a cliff overlooking the sea. With his killing blow, the bounty hunter knocked the leader of the Brigands into the rocks and waves a thousand feet below. His body being unavailable, the bountry hunter took the heads of the other four for his trophy and to claim his reward."

"I see," The Baron said, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up, "And is this bounty hunter here today?"

The innkeeper nodded, and pointed to a small table at the very far corner of the common room. The single chair at the table sat facing both the door and the stage, and someone was sitting in it, trying his best not to look interesting.

"Thank you, sir," Zeddar said, half distracted already, he flipped the bartender three fat golden crowns, "Have a bottle of your finest brandy sent over when I motion for it. I simply must meet this amazing man of courage."

The Baron strode over to the table and stood next to it for several silent moments. The lutist, settled again, took up her playing one more, and the sounds of the common room returned a bit to normal around them, but Zeddar had the distinct impression that every eye in the inn was now trained firmly on him.

Good.

He reached behind himself and pulled up a chair without being asked to, and he sat in it. Best to get some things straight from the outset, and he would not allow the impression that he had to ask permission for anything from the man across the table.

"Well, if you're going to sit," Vantick said, "We may as well have a drink."

"Not one you paid for," The Baron replied, motioning to the bartender and holding up two fingers. A serving girl came over immediately with an opened bottle of brandy and poured to glasses. She left the bottle and walked away without a second glance.

Vantick grinned, and picked up one of the glasses, taking a long drink, "Nothing better than free brandy," He said, "Especially when it's good."

He drained his glass and refilled it from the bottle. He started to reach for Zeddar's, but the Baron was faster. Instead of gulping his down, though, Zeddar sipped it slowly, breathing in the aroma deeply. Vantick shook his head and waved a dismissive hand at the Baron.

Zeddar ground his teeth, but took several deep breaths before speaking, "So, you're a bounty hunter now, eh?"

"It's a living," Vantick said, raising his glass in mock toast.

"I imagine so," Zeddar replied, "Especially if you set up the group, bring four stooges along to take the credit for all of the killing, and then harvest them when they've ripened and are worth picking."

Vantick's grin fell away, and suddenly his eyes seemed cold, hard, and dangerous. Zeddar had finally gotten his attention. Time to press the advantage.

"I wonder what these good townspeople would do," Zeddar said, "If they were to discover that the leader of the bandit band was sitting here among them drinking brandy. Could you make it out of here alive?"

Vantick smirked, but it looked half-hearted, "I'm not afraid of some backwater yokels calling themselves nobility."

The Baron grinned wickedly, "I'm sure. Still, it could be inconvenient. I saw at least six swords walking over here, and two of them looked like they had seen quite a bit of use."

"Batterd swords? I'm tremblin," Vantick said, and smirked again.

"You should be," Zeddar replied, hos voice suddenly cold and hard, "Swords only get battered when the person holds them lives long enough to make them so."

Vantick's teeth closed as he bit off what ever reply he had been about to make. The silence stretched between the two men, and Vantick emptied his glass. He reached for the bottle again, but Zeddar calmly placed his hand lightly over the top of it, and shook his head, still sipping his first glass.

"You've had enough," Zeddar said, "Now, I have some questions and I need them answered."

"Look around you, old man," Vantick said, his eyes like small stones, "We're not in your classroom anymore. Fortune, man, your classroom is nothing but dust and forgotten whispers now. You've seen it just as I have. And yet you still think to lecture me? Do you even know who you are?"

Zeddar started to answer, but found his voice wouldn't come. He couldn't deny the Rogue's words. The Baron remembered some things, but much of his older memories were still hazy and half a mystery. They seemed to come and go like the wind.

"Do you remember how you died, Wizard?" Vantick asked, his voice soft and intense, "I do. I remember how I died too.... a thousand times a thousand times I've died, and I remember each and every one. I remember other things too, though.... things other men have long forgotten in the dust of myth and legend."

Zeddar swallowed hard, his gaze falling to the weather table between them, "Then tell me," The Baron said, and with great difficulty, "Please. There's so much taht I know I can't remember.... it seems right there, at the tip of my fingertips, but I can't grasp it."

Vantick sneered and ugly sneer, "You grovel badly, old man, and you should avoid it. I won't ruin it for you. The things you need to know, you will. Trust in that, old man. You tried to teach that lesson to me so many times, and it took so very much for me to finally learn it.... let me return the favor."

Zeddar looked at Vantick, and something about the man stirred his memory. Something he couldn't place, but still it tugged at his mind.

"Student," Zeddar said, finally, "You were my student once."

Vantick nodded slowly, "I was. But no longer. That ended long ago, and not well."

"WHy are you killing, Vantick? Why have you lost your way?"

Vantick sighed and shook his head sadly, "I am only doing what I must," Vantick said, "To see that what must be done is done. We all have our parts to play, M'lord. I am simply playing mine as best I can."

Zeddar opened his mouth, but Vantick cut him off, "Would it help you to know that Cage tended the rose you planted for her the rest of his life? Would it calm your soul to know that even after Cage was gone, and his grand children's children, the village that rose up over the ruins of the Vale still kept that rose? It had grown into a thing nearly the size of a small tree by then, but they kept it and tended it faithfully."

Zeddar tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, but he couldn't. Vantick continued, "Would you feel less loss if you knew that for nearly two hundred years that rose grew before the fire came. After the fire, the villagers gathered at the stump every year to tell the tale of the Duke who had planted it in memory of a woman he had loved beyond measure. The Baron and the Siren's Call, they named the tale."

Finally, Zeddar found his voice agian, "How can you know these things?" He asked hoarsely.

Vantick sneered again, setting his glass down, "Yes, well, as to that.... All I can say is never strike a bargain with Fate. If you ever meet her and she tries to haggle you, run. Fate is a gypsy, Baron, and if you strike a bargain with her you'll be paying prices you never knew were on the table."

Suddenly, Vantick reached out and flipped the bottle of brandy out form under Zeddar's hand at at his face. Zeddar started back from the table and barely caught the bottle before it smashed into his head. When he looked back, Vantick was gone.

The Baron stood, spinning, his eyes searching every face in the inn, but he wasn't there. Somehow, Vantick had slipped away long enough to enter the shadows and hide from his sight, or recall away. In either case, he was gone.

Zeddar cursed, and sat down again, pouring himself another glass of brandy. The encounter hadn't gone as he'd envisioned, but he'd managed to live through it. And, remarkably, so had Vantick. Perhaps the Baron had underestimated the Rogue.

He wouldn't make that mistake again....

[Jupiter]

ARCHIVED!


* sets down his glass of milk *

BRAVO! I'll have another!

[shonnie53]

what does white harbor have brewing I wonder? can not wait