Eye of the Wind – Ch. 5 – 6: Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

  • Derkeethus stooped and picked up the ruby, examining it closely in the sunlight.  "This'll do," he said, and turning to me, "We'll need something to barter with, and I doubt you'll want it to be your body.  He's said to have a 'way with women'."  I shuddered at the thought.  "We'll also need to lure him into telling us about these 'forgotten chosen'.  I'm afraid you'll need to be the one to do the talking."

    "Me?  But I'm awful at this kind of thing," I complained, feeling suddenly very worried.

    "Don't worry, it won't take much with someone as good looking as you.  You've seen me do it before.  Just play the ruse, Henny."  Inwardly, I was shocked by the seemingly off-hand compliment, and resorted to willfully ignoring it.

    Further up the walk we spotted a surly man leaning casually against a causeway support.  His face bore a shadow of uncontrolled, black stubble while rest was merely covered in soot.  In my eyes, he really wasn't much to look at.

    As we approached, the man looked me up and down slowly and grinned.  His teeth were a centuries old vandalized graveyard.  "Why hello there," he spoke in a voice as pleasant as a raven's.  "How would you like to hear some of Yngvar the Singer's honeyed words?"

    I recoiled and stepped back in revulsion.  Darting a glance at Derk, I saw his jaw was set like stone and his eyes were glittering in barely concealed annoyance.  Play the ruse, I thought and felt a flutter of agreement through the connection to my friend. 

    "Why I'd love to," I said, allowing my gaze to linger on him for a moment before looking away, feigning bashfulness.  In reality, I was feeling incredibly awkward.  "I'm sure a strong man like you has seen many battles.  Why don't you tell me about of them?"

    Yngvar laughed throatily and launched into a well-rehearsed tale involving a steel hammer, something called a Forsworn, and a bunch of jazbay grapes.  The entire while, he inched unbearably close and I had to hold my breath to avoid smelling him.  Derkeethus continued to tense until I was worried he would snap like an overwrought bow.

    "And what do you think of that, m'lady?" Yngvar asked, finally finishing his gruesome tale.

    "Those Forsworn sound absolutely beastly!  I hope they won't come here!" I exclaimed, hating myself the more I continued to pretend with this disgusting wretch.  As my loathing for the former bard grew, so too did the desire to eviscerate him as the chorus of madness began to stir.  Try as I might, I couldn't quite squelch the feeling, and it didn't help that I could sense Derk's similar reaction to the matter.

    "Oh, don't worry about that.  They're far away from here.  Don't know where exactly.  Banning at the stable has always been an expert on those matters, getting news from travelers that pass through," he said.  "Say, why don't you join me for a little fun?"

    "Actually, I'm afraid my friend and I have to be going," the Argonian interjected stiffly, "But we thank you for your assistance."  With deft hands, Derkeethus slipped the ruby into the man's palm.  Then, with a soft hiss, "Walk away.  Quickly.  Before he understands that ruby isn't real and he's going home with blue balls."

    We trotted quickly down the sidewalk to the city gates, slipping out of sight just as I heard the brute swear loudly.

    Outside the gate, Derk and I descended the steps, and I experienced a wave of familiarity as I looked down at the stone with all its imperfections, cracks, and moss.  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the guard smirking from underneath the brim of his helmet.

    Sitting on a stone ledge overlooking the stable yard was a Breton, his race as obvious as the mutton chops adorning his jaw.  He was watching a dog, presumably his, strutting about on the mossy ground.  I looked over at the hound, thinking of Jorin.

    "Lookin' for a war dog?  I train the toughest and the bravest in the province.  Name's Banning," the Breton said.

    "No, actually, Yngvar mentioned you knew something about the Forsworn and where they're located," I replied, watching Derkeethus begin a staring contest with the mutt.

    "Did he now.  That son of a bitch never believes me when I say I'm not one of the natives!  And I suppose you think I'm one of them, too, eh?" he growled crossly.  Then, noticing my friend, "You'll never win, boy.  That dog can stare Death in the face and even make him blink."

    "I wouldn't know what the natives even look like."

    "A foreigner.  I shoulda known by that accent of yours.  Well, all I know is that they live in the highlands when they aren't out killin' and pillagin' our mines.  Traders headin' in from Kathwasten up north along the Karth River complain of Forsworn rising over the hills like ants.  Always from the river.  Always from the northern ridges.  Don't know what else to tell you," Banning explained as I quickly created a poorly-drawn map of his directions.

    "Thank you.  Your dog is lovely, but I recently lost my companion.  If ever I come back this way, I may consider it," I said, shaking his proffered hand.

    "Don't mention it."

    Leaving the stables, I meandered over towards the road leading from Markarth out into the Reach, as the region was known.  I was deep in thought, wondering where Karthwasten even was, much less how far away from the place these natives were camped.  Like most native peoples, they would be clever about hiding their tracks.  And like most native peoples who are persecuted, they would be especially clever about laying traps.

    Slowly I climbed a set of steps winding into a small guard tower.  The guard proceeded to ignore my presence as I sat down on the ledge and looked out beyond the city limits.  At length, Derkeethus joined me and we watched the afternoon draw to a close.  From the canyons below, wind blew hard and sharp as a knife, bringing with it an indescribable scent I associated with rivers and winter.

    When the air became chilly, we headed back inside the city and returned to the room at the inn once more.  The barkeeper grinned broadly at us, tipping us a wink.  "Don't cause too much of a ruckus this time," called as we headed down the same hallway as before.

    As the door shut behind us, I stared at the bed, utterly uncomfortable and out of my depth.  We'd shared rooms plenty of times before without incident, but now, I felt wrong about sleeping with Derkeethus in the same room.  Alone.  After a while, I started to glare at it, wishing the blasted thing had never been invented.  I didn't want to sleep in it, suspecting what we had done.  Worse, I began to imagine the things we'd done and felt another sick wave of shame course through me.  Along the connection, I felt a corresponding spike of guilt.

    "I'll sleep on the floor.  You can have the bed.  I'm sure they've cleaned the linens since we were last here," Derk murmured, taking the bedroll from my pack and not looking at me.  Guilt flickered in my stomach as I watched my friend lay down on the hard floor, all because of me.  Gently, I set my pack down, and tentatively approached the stone mattress.

    Eventually, I swallowed my pride and embarrassment and lay down, keeping my feet towards Derkeethus so I could watch him.  Not that I was afraid he was going to do anything while I was asleep, but it made me feel a little better to have some kind of guard up.  A facade to cover my current sense of vulnerability.

    Throughout the night, I drifted in and out of a doze, never diving into sleep and never quite waking up.  The Argonian didn't move and didn't seem to be breathing as deeply as he normally did while he slept.  Yet, neither of us woke and addressed the other or whiled away the time.  We continued to float in a torturous state of non-sleep until, at last, I heard the echoes of the miners coming in for their morning vittles in the main hall and resolved to get up.

    Even after having eaten and catching a blast of cold, autumn wind to the face, I felt haggard and bleary-eyed.  My eyes prickled dryly as we loaded up the horses.  Derkeethus and I didn't say a word until I muttered a muzzy, "Let's go."

    As we set out, I could feel though that accursed bond that Derk's night had been as dull and relentless as mine had.

Comments

3 Comments
  • Eviltrain
    Eviltrain   ·  October 13, 2012
    "His teeth were a centuries old vandalized graveyard." I'm totally stealing this. I don't when or how or where. But it was awesome.
  • Kynareth
    Kynareth   ·  October 3, 2012
    Love the teeth comment...made me cringe and hold my breath, in fact!  I am glad to see their attempt to incorporate the awkwardness in their relationship and move on from there...very nicely done.  And I am doubting that is the end of it...
    I certai...  more
  • Jake Dassel
    Jake Dassel   ·  October 3, 2012
    Your tags made me laugh, I can also see the war dog becoming a good companion for Gwaihen.