Chapter TWO – Creepy ass guy!

 

            “Torin! Tooorrriiin!!!” Jerith yelled out, trying to locate the room his brother was currently tending to, “Are you up here? I’m supposed to help you finish cleaning the rooms!”

            A voice sounded out to him from the end of the hallway, “I’m working on the last room. Fat lot of help you’re going to be now, but thanks anyway,” Torin’s typical sarcastic voice came from the last room on the left. He was almost three celebrations older than Jerith and was notably taller and somewhat more muscular than his younger brother. His shaggy hair was also black, softened by tawny brown tinges. He wore similar brown leather pants to Jerith’s and was almost always sporting a dark blue tunic and a beat-up old hat. Torin rarely smiled, and that seemed to harden his otherwise handsome face. Unlike his brother, Torin was typically withdrawn from those around him. He preferred to spend most of his free time, what little of it there seemed to be, alone. He would often sit quietly looking out the windows of the inn’s upper quarters down at the busy streets of the town that he rarely took part in. Torin was a quiet observer of life, and most who saw him considered him a sad and somewhat overly sarcastic young man. However, beneath his sadness, there was an inner quality of kindness and compassion in him that endeared him to almost everyone who took the time and patience to get to know him. Everyone, that is, except for Jerith. Although they did have a deep-seated, secret mutual respect for one another that they rarely let the world at large know about, nor did they often let slip to one another.

            Jerith entered the room that his brother was cleaning. The morning sunlight was streaming through the window, reflecting off the thick dust lazily floating in the air, creating a magical golden haze that made it feel like walking into a dream. A musty odour was hanging in the air, caused by the many years of sweaty, smelly travellers who had stayed at the inn. At least sweat was the hope Jerith held onto for the source of the smell. Possible alternative sources were best not to be dwelt upon for too long.

            Torin was just finishing smoothing out some fresh sheets over the lumpy straw-stuffed mattress that rested on the room’s sturdy oak bed frame as Jerith plunked down upon the bed, messing up the sheets in the process. Torin’s hair was untidy, and his face was darkened by the faint stubble of a beard and moustache, as he had not had time to clean up before he had to get to work. He now wore a deeper scowl on his face. Torin and his brother were very similar in appearance, except that Torin’s face was a bit thinner, and he had a longer, more narrow nose. Otherwise, they looked almost like twins. There was no mistaking them for siblings. As similar in appearance as they were, the young men were completely different in every other respect.  While Torin was more withdrawn and quieter around others, Jerith was upfront and overly talkative. Especially so to his brother, who would prefer to be left alone to his chores in silence and solitude without his brother’s presence.

            “You look kind of scruffy this morning,” Jerith said as he looked at his unkempt brother.

            “I had too much work to do, apparently all by myself. I’ll shave later. As if it really matters what I look like when doing this shit,” Torin quipped, pulling on the now wrinkly bed sheet. “What was all the commotion about down there?” Torin asked as Jerith sat up and finished smoothing out the bed sheet he had just disturbed.

            “Bivitar arm wrestled an absolute monster from Tolvirad. Had a hard go of it, too! Barely won, but he pulled it out in the end. Like he always does…”

            “What about that one time…”

            “Don’t bring that up. He gets touchy about it. Grandfather did make a killing on the bets.  Everyone had put their money on the Tolviran as soon as they got a look at him.”

            “I didn’t know there was such a thing as a huge Tolviran,” Torin mused. How did Grandfather take the news about the Dar’genian’s horse?” Torin asked, wanting to discern his grandfather’s temperament this morning.

            “It was a donkey… and rather calmly, actually,” Jerith said with a shrug. “He’ll be in a better mood now that we won back all of the coins we had lost on it, though.”

            “So, you would say he’s in a pretty good mood today, then?” Torin asked, hoping.

            “Yeah, I suppose so. Why?”

            “Remember that soldier who stayed here last week? The one who brought in one of the street girls but said she was his sister?”

            “I think so. Was he the big, rancid-smelling fellow? That poor girl didn’t look overly thrilled about her night’s work, that’s for sure,” Jerith said, a sheepish smile coming to his face.

            “Yep, that’s the one. Anyway, I had a chance to talk to him after the girl left, before he had to sneak back to his barracks. He said the King would soon begin enlisting more men to help patrol the border along the edge of the Howling Woods. He said it was due to more frequent sightings of Morgonum raiders in some of the northern border regions, or some such nonsense, and that the King wanted to make it safer for the villagers living near the border.  Increasing the number of troops there might scare the savages away. That is the prevailing thought, I guess.”

            “So, what’s that got to do with you, and why does grandfather have to be in a good mood today?” Jerith asked, puzzled as to what one fact had to do with the other.

            “Well, the soldier said he thought I was big enough to join the King’s army. Said it looked like I had a strong arm, and he said that with a few months of training and hard work, I might be able to transfer out of Reglevick. Maybe up to a border town or, by the Gods willing, any place that is not here.”

            “You can’t do that!” Jerith shook his head in disbelief.

            “Why not?”

            “Uhm... cause I would miss you, and we need the help here, and everyone else would miss you?” Jerith could not fathom his brother leaving anytime soon. The thought that his brother might leave him had never even crossed his mind until just now.

            “Yeah, sure, whatever, don’t be such a baby about it,” was his response to that. “So, I think today’s the day that I’m going to tell Grandfather I’ll be leaving the inn,” Torin continued, ignoring his brother’s genuine concern, “I’m just not cut out for… you know… inn-keeping.  I don’t want to endlessly spend the rest of my life toiling up here doing… this. Cleaning soiled bed sheets and emptying overflowed bed pans or guiding drunk slobs up and down the stairs so they don’t fall and kill themselves. I need some new challenges. Some excitement in my life. Anything but just… well… this,” he waved his hands around at the room, “living here is suffocating.”

            “Well, if it’s excitement you want, just wait and see how much you get when you tell Grandfather you want to leave the inn. Especially given that the traders’ market is coming up real soon. We’re the closest inn to the trade market; this is our busiest time of the year. He’s not going to be impressed, not in the least. Sure, I said he was in a good mood, but not that good a mood. I don’t think he has ever been in that good a mood. If I were you, I would wait a few weeks until after the trade market has opened. Maybe by then, he’ll be too busy to kill you. Or, maybe you should think about this a little more first. It’s a big decision!” Jerith was not at all happy about this sudden revelation from his brother. He had never entertained the thought that someday Torin would leave the inn and Jerith would be left all alone. The very idea of this possibility made his stomach churn. “It’s sort of a big step, don’t you think?” he said, more pleading than questioning. “Besides which, remember how much you hate getting up early in the morning. If you think Rheal wakes us up early, wait until you meet your drill instructors. I can’t see military life being easy at all. No, Sir, not one bit.” He hoped that appealing to Torin’s logical and lazy side might help dissuade him from leaving, “and who wants to get killed on the side of the road protecting some fat farmer’s flock of sheep?” he ended with arms tossed high in the air for emphasis.

            “Maybe you’re right,” Torin regrettably agreed. “It is sort of a big decision. I may not even be cut out for military life, but I must do something… anything.” With a heaving sigh, he began to leave, looking even more forlorn than usual. “Well, I’m done in here. If you want to be of any help to me at all today, you can come with me to the market,” he sighed again and headed for the stairs.

            “Why go now?” Jerith asked, “It doesn’t open until late next week. Most of the out-of-town vendors are still arriving and getting set up.”

            “Rheal wants me to go now. That is why. We both know that what she wants, she gets.  Apparently, some of the booths are open early, and she has a list of things she just can’t take a chance on them selling out of. I’m going to need help to carry it all back. It’s a long list. Besides, going there is better than staying here and working. Maybe some cute shopkeeper’s daughters will be there helping them set up. Do you some good to try and talk to one of them,” Torin slugged his younger brother hard on the shoulder.

            “You have that right!” Jerith agreed, both on the desire not to work on any more chores and the possibility of meeting someone new in town, “Ok, I’ll come, but let’s hurry before she thinks of something else for me to do instead.”

            The two young men bounded out of the room, down the stairs, and past a startled Rheal.  Before she had time to think of some other job to give one of them, they were out the door and into the street, where the man Bivitar had thrown out earlier still slept. He had now rolled over head-on into the pile of manure he had narrowly avoided before.

            Torin nearly tripped over the prone man, “Who’s this?” he asked Jerith, sporting a rare whimsical smile.

            “No one of importance,” Jerith replied offhandedly, “just a customer Bivitar asked to leave.”

            They exchanged glances, burst out laughing, and rushed down the street toward the town’s busy retail district.

                                                               *            *            *

            Vole’s Inn lay nestled in the northeastern corner of the city, surrounded by the simple homes of the common folk, dotted here and there by the occasional bakery, cobbler, or one of the many other random general merchandise establishments found in this part of the great city. In the heart of this sector of Reglevick was the great market square. During the span of an average day, droves upon droves of people passed through the market shops of Reglevick city, citizenry and visitors alike. These numbers rose more around the summer’s much-celebrated, annual Trader’s market.  At this time of year, traders from all the regions west of the Great Boundary Mountains gathered in Reglevick for a weeklong exchange of highly sought-after regional goods. Tolvirany, Dar’genian, and O’Dharan flags waved proudly over their respective venues, ranging from small temporary booths to larger ornate tents. On some rare occasions, even a few brave merchants from the kingdoms east of the Great Boundary Mountains, like Vladria or even the hated Kallaran empire states, would venture far from their homelands to sell truly odd and magnificent wares. Items that were not often seen in this part of the world.  All manner of merchandise was available for the right price. Goods ranged from rare spices and herbs to high-end, fashionable clothing and the latest in highly advanced gadgetry. All the newest things that were designed to make the common folk’s lives easier to manage. Often, strange and exotic animals were bought and sold alongside rare cuts of meat from unusual animals.

            If patrons thought they needed something particular, this was the time and place to find and go and get it. Visiting traders would exchange their unique goods with those of other traders from different regions to bring these new and different merchandise back to their own regional customers, where, of course, they could be sold for a very sizable profit, given the rarity of the new items in those markets.

            The citizens of Reglevick benefited most from the market, as prices were lower at the source and they did not have to travel across half a world to obtain them, as merchandise from all three kingdoms was displayed for them to choose from. As such, consumers from all over O’Dharan travelled to Reglevick for this reason, which, in turn, was also profitable for local businesses, most especially the local Inns.

            The summer market always had a festive atmosphere with fresh, exotic foods, lively music, and flashy dancers. It was widely regarded as the highlight of the summer season.  Both traders and consumers alike benefited from this annual affair.

            Torin and Jerith walked down Reglevick’s busy streets, headed for the large market square, travelling past the local merchants’ shops along the way. Occasionally, they would poke a head through an open doorway, like at Garik’s Smithy, to see what new piece of armour he may be working on, or they would make a brief stop to wave hello to some of the many merchants they passed. Most of the merchants they knew far too well, as a great deal of the locals in this part of the city, spent a good deal of their free time at Vole’s Inn. They went either to spend some quality time in one of the rented rooms with a local gal, often unbeknownst to their wives, or just to forget their own problems over many goblets of mind-numbing ale. So the boys got to know most of them quite well.

            If they were lucky, maybe Moratha, the baker, might have some leftover bread from her morning bake that she might share with them for free. The ordinarily busy neighbourhood was gearing up for the coming market, and an extra excitement could be felt in the flocks of people moving in and out of the many shops.

            As the two young men neared the market, they heard a strained, pain-tinged moan emanate from down a small side alley. Jerith warily poked his head around the corner and cautiously peered down the small street, as Torin tried to pull him away. The young man saw a massive man kneeling just a few yards down the alley. He immediately recognized him as the very large Tolvirany porter who had arm-wrestled with Bivitar earlier that morning. The big man was bent over his employer, carefully tending to a rather large cut that slowly trickled blood down the smaller man’s forehead.

            “Are you alright?” a concerned Jerith asked the large man. “Do you need any help?” Ever the one to offer aid, Jerith was clearly upset at what had happened to his former quest.

            The porter looked up at the boy.  “Thank you all the same, but I can manage,” he said. “I was in the spice shop across the street getting supplies for my Lord. When I came back out, I found him lying in this alley. Some of the men from your tavern must have followed us here. My fault for not having seen them. I should have known better. They got a great deal of gold from him and a pound of flesh as well, but he will be fine. Luckily for him, I had some of his money with me when I went into the shop. We should be able to get our way home. I thank you for your concern.” With little else to say, the porter picked up the semi-conscious man, thrust him over his massive shoulder, and left, heading further down the alley.  His large form slowly vanished as the alley’s darkness closed around them.

            “Should we help them?” Jerith asked, starting down the alley.

            “The good Baron should have been more careful,” Torin remarked, grabbing hold of his brother’s arm, “he’s lucky to be still alive, I’d say. They’re not our problem. Come on now, let’s get Rheal’s things.  She said she most wanted me to pick up some very specific Dar’genian silk so she could make some new dresses. A lot of it! You know her and her clothes. This is supposedly the only time of year it’s sold in the city by her favourite clothier. It’s a must to get! You know how particular she is about her silks. She says they are usually open a while before the main market gets underway. If we hurry up, after we have got it, maybe we can look around at some of the other venues for ourselves. There is bound to be something of interest.” He tugged on Jerith’s elbow and pulled him away from the alley. The brothers hurried the rest of the way to the large market square without bothering to look into any other shops or down any other dark alleyways.

            A large diversity of patrons was already filing into the partially open market despite its lack of readiness.  Dar’genians, O’Dharans, and Tolvirans alike wandered through the crowded market, watching the traders busily preparing their booths.  Here and there, small groups of nervous Vladrians could be seen quickly roaming through the market, looking to buy from the other traders, knowing full well that they were not wholly welcome at the market due to Vladria’s past and close associations with the Kallaran States.  With Kallaran being the most significant threat to the peace in the western half of the world, they and their allies were rarely allowed.  For many centuries, the Kallarans had frequently sent their armies from the far side of the world to wage war against the realms of the West. It had only been within the past few decades that there had been any semblance of uneasy peace between the Kingdoms of the West and the Kallaran Empire.  Even now, that peace was but a very fragile thing, with neither side wanting to start another all-out war. Citizenry from every kingdom had come to live under the constant unrest, with the possibility that, if necessary, the wars could begin anew. For now, the uneasy peace had tentatively held, and life carried on as well as it could.

            The market itself was divided into three sections, one for each of the western realms. As people would travel from all over O’Dharan’s countryside to the city to buy from specific traders, sorting them by kingdom made it easier for visitors to navigate. These travellers would be the reason for Mr. Vole’s very hectic upcoming weeks.  The bulk of the booths would not be ready until the market’s opening day, and most travelling customers would not arrive until then. Luckily for the locals, some of the more experienced traders opened a few days earlier to take advantage of the people already in Reglevick for early sales, one of those being a particularly favoured silk trader.

            Torin and Jerith nudged their way through the busy crowd, making their way toward the Dar’genian section of the market.

            “Look, Torin, over there!” Jerith remarked a bit excitedly. “There’s a flag of Vladria flying over that booth- right over there. Do you see it? Now, that’s a very brave soul. The markets in Vladria must be pretty sparse for them to risk selling goods in a Western trade market.”

            “From what I’ve overheard of conversations at the inn, Vladria isn’t terribly wealthy,” Torin informed his younger brother. “I don’t know much about them, but Vladria is a vast land with no real borders and no one true ruler. Mostly just independent factions of clans fighting over lands or to gain more followers. The strongest rise to the top and rule for as long as possible. The whole place is constantly at war with itself, leaving little time for farming, learning, or any other civilized activities. On top of that, I hear it’s all just one big swamp.  Not much land to farm or live on. That’s why they depend on the Kallarans to help support them. It gives the Emperor of Kallaran a great deal of power over them, which is why, traditionally, they have sided with the Kallarans whenever they dare to invade the West. Vladrians are a very rough people, not the brightest in the world, but very, very good in a fight.  The Kallaran Emperors normally used them only as front-line fodder.  After all, why should they waste their own soldiers when they could send flocks of overly exuberant Vladrians to their deaths instead? Given their allegiances to the Emperor, I am shocked those fools have the nerve to set up shop here at all.”

            Jerith thought for a moment. “I guess what they are doing here doesn’t really matter to me that much. I suppose they have as much right to try to sell their goods as everyone else. They have not done anything to me, so good luck to them.” Jerith turned his eyes away from the Vladrian flag and did not give it another thought. “Let’s look around the market,” he suggested.  “I’ve heard that there would be a royal Tolvirany dance troupe performing during the market’s opening day ceremonies. They’re supposed to be the most beautiful women on this side of the Boundary Mountains. I think I overheard someone at the inn say they were already in the city preparing for the big event. If they are, maybe we can find them now and watch them practice while there will be less of a crowd?  On opening day, it will be so crowded we won’t be able to come within a hundred heads away from the main stage.”

            “That sounds like a good idea to me.” Torin smiled, agreeing with his brother for once as they set off to find the legendary dancers.

            Moving farther into the market, they found a group of men and women clustered around a hastily erected, tiny wooden practice stage, tucked away near the edge of the market. An extremely enchanting melody reverberated in the air around the stage, rising over the gathered crowd. The two young men elbowed their way to the front of the large gathering. The men there paid them little heed as they were not big enough to obstruct the view of the stage. In the centre of the gathering upon the tiny stage was a small group of, as advertised, absolutely wondrous women that swayed and gyrated to the enchanting music. They were deep into practicing a very sensual and intricate dance routine. The legend of these women’s beauty was significantly understated compared to the stunning reality of their full grace and elegance. Now that they could get up close, neither Jerith nor Torin could remember seeing anyone as beautiful as these women, not even Rheal. All the dancers were very tall with slender, agile frames, and they possessed a rare grace born of hours of hard work and dedication to their craft.  Each had soft, pure alabaster skin that almost radiated an inner light, with luxuriously flowing hair of varying shades that swayed about in the air as if dancing to its own hypnotic routine. The dancers mesmerized the crowd as they moved about the stage in unison upon strong, well-toned legs. They were modestly hidden beneath thin strips of brightly coloured cloth that twirled loosely around their divine bodies as they danced to the mysterious music. A magical song that seemed to come from the very air itself, seeing as no visible musicians were on the stage. The gracefulness and beauty of the intricate dancer’s routine were beyond belief, drawing their viewer’s attention completely. As the music’s tempo increased, the dancers moved faster and faster, at dizzying speed, with a primal energy stirring the gathered crowd into a slight frenzy. Both men and women in the audience hollered and threw handfuls of coins onto the stage as the music died down and the dancers finished their display, collapsing to the stage, utterly spent. Even Torin and Jerith were hard-pressed not to throw what little coin they had of their own onto the stage. One of their attendants gathered up the coins as the lovely young ladies were given a brief rest, while their instructor yelled at them over any previous faults in their movements.

            Jerith looked back over his shoulder as they walked away, when the young dancers were ushered off the stage by their conductor to rest in a nearby covered tent, “Wouldn’t you love to spend your life with one of those dancers?” Jerith asked breathlessly.

            “They truly are magnificent,” Torin agreed. “But they are so far beyond our station, it’s laughable. These women marry Kings and Noblemen. Men of high birth and great wealth. Not destitute orphans who work at a rundown old inn. They wouldn’t even give you or me a second glance. No, we’re going to end up marrying some street girls or maybe a plump Baker’s daughter.  That is, if we’re lucky enough to get anyone to spend any time with us at all. No great beauties for you or me, I’m afraid. You’re a dreamer.” Torin looked away from the dancers with a grim expression as he pondered the bleak future he envisioned for himself and his brother.

            “I guess you’re right. I suppose,” Jerith said sadly, “though it doesn’t hurt to dream a little. Strange things tend to happen, right? No one ever really knows what their future holds, and love tends to find its way. Maybe the future has something special in store for you and me?”  As always, Jerith was the more optimistic of the two.

            A derisive grunt was the only reply he got from his older brother.

            With the dancers’ display over all too soon and the harsh reality of their lives painfully sinking in, the boys began to make their way back toward the Dar’genian section of the market to find Rheal’s silk trader. As they were passing again by the lone Vladrian booth, Jerith’s inquisitiveness got the better of him. He stopped and peered in through the tent’s opening. Inside the poorly lit tent, he could barely make out a tall and eerily slender man conversing with the Vladrian trader at the back of the booth. The man stood at an angle to Jerith, facing slightly away from him, so he could not get a good look at the tall man’s face. This stranger wore a long, red robe, covered by a dark crimson cloak that made it appear almost black; it shone like wet blood even in the dim light of the Vladrian’s booth. The stranger spoke with an unusual accent that Jerith had never heard before, not even at the inn where travellers from all over the Western world stayed. His speech was deep, raspy, and disjointed.  He was speaking Vladrian, though his accent was undoubtedly not Vladrian, and it was apparent that he disliked the language he was forced to use with the trader. Jerith had only picked up a little of the Vladrian language himself, so he could not understand the content of the men’s conversation. He found it odd that they were not speaking the common language most people used.

            “Jerith, what’s keeping you?” Torin had come back and tugged on his brother’s arm, nearly causing Jerith’s heart to stop. “You shouldn’t be spying in there. Come away before you get us into trouble!”

            “No!” Jerith whispered sternly, pulling free his arm. “Look in here and listen,” Jerith whispered again, pulling Torin to the tent’s entrance. “I’ve never seen someone like this before. Listen to his accent. He’s speaking Vladrian, but that’s not a Vladrian accent.  From what I know, they tend to slur their syllables together. I’ve never heard anything like this before.  Where do you think he comes from?”

            Torin peeked carefully into the tent. The tall, tanned man had turned slightly and was now facing the doorway more.  This allowed Torin a somewhat clearer view of the man’s face.  He was deeply tanned and not very old, probably about Rheal’s age, Torin guessed. His face was very distinguished and more than a little bit frightening. There was something very peculiar about him, though.  Something about the man didn’t appear quite right to Torin. Looking more carefully at the man’s face, it suddenly hit him like a toppling tree. This man had no eyebrows or any hair on his head at all.

            The stranger very abruptly stopped speaking and spun completely around to face the tent’s entrance, his red cloak twirling in a flourish behind him.

            “What do you two think you are doing?” He barked out in a serious and unfriendly tone. This time, he spoke clearly in the common language that all three Western realms had adopted.  He began to slowly cross the room toward them.  Jerith suddenly felt a disturbingly cold chill run through his body. His limbs felt oddly heavy and disconnected. His mind felt extremely clouded as well, as though someone else were searching through his thoughts, looking for information, as if flipping through the pages of a book. These new sensations were not at all to his liking. His body did not respond to his frantic mind that was urging him to run. He felt trapped, panicked, and barely able to draw a breath or move a muscle.

            “Run!” Torin shouted, pulling at Jerith’s shoulder, shocking him from his current state of paralysis. Shook free of his captive state, Jerith took off after his older brother as fast as he could muster. His mind was racing, and his heart was throbbing from exertion. He wondered what had caused the sensations he felt when the red-robed man looked at him, whether they involved the strange man in some way, or whether it was just sheer panic at being discovered snooping where he should not have been.  He peered over his shoulder to see if there was any sign of pursuit, but could only see the busy throng of the market filling in behind him. Torin suddenly ducked down an alley several blocks away from the Vladrian’s booth, where he stopped so they could catch their breath.

            Jerith leaned back against the cold stone wall, “What happened to me… back there?” The young man was disturbed by what had happened to him. “Did you… feel something strange when he looked at us?” he asked his brother between gasping breaths.

            “Yes. I felt it. Telepathy, I think. Nasty stuff. That is all I can think of that may have made us feel like that.” Torin tried to settle his breathing as well. Jerith looked confused, so Torin elaborated a bit more, “He tried to use his mind to probe into ours; that is what telepathy is. Probably wanted to see what we had overheard. I’m sure of it… I think that man was a Kallaran priest. The way he was dressed and his strange accent. Neither is from any Western culture. Then, when I saw he had no hair on his face or head, I was sure of it. I’ve heard travellers at the inn talk of the Kallaran priests in hushed tones. Everyone is afraid of them. They say most of them are somewhat proficient at telepathy, which is how they get into the order, and that when they join, they have to shave off all their hair. Hairless… just like that guy was.”

            “For what possible reason?” Jerith asked.

            “I don’t know. It’s supposed to make them purer or more devout, or some donkeys shat like that. Maybe the Gods they worship have no hair. I didn’t make up their rules. I just know what I’ve heard.”

            “But how did he know we were there? We didn’t make any noise?” Jerith was becoming more and more afraid of what had just happened.

            “Telepathy again… probably… I guess?” Torin shrugged his shoulders. “He could have been using his mind to scan the doorway every few minutes or so to make sure that no one was spying on him. Like you know… You were!” Torin chastised his younger brother.

            “Then why didn’t he notice us right away?”

            “I’ve heard Grandfather talk about telepathy before. It’s supposed to be very difficult and tiring. Maybe since he was busy talking to the trader, he wouldn’t have been keeping a constant eye on the door. That’s why he didn’t spot us right away. The Kallarans are very good at using the power of their minds to their full extent, but it’s not an easy thing to do. I think some people in O’Dharan know how to manipulate their minds to do it as well, but that is rare. They are generally found in the church order or high in the military and are very limited in their abilities.  It takes years of strenuous mental training to master the concepts involved.  A Kallaran priest trains almost from birth and is constantly under the watch of older, more established priests.”

            “Are you sure he was a Kallaran?  How do you know all of this?” Jerith found it hard to believe that a Kallaran would risk coming into a busy place like the trader’s market. Since the treaty was signed, a Kallaran would never come to an O’Dharan city unannounced. “We would have heard of a Kallaran visitor to the city if he were here officially. That kind of news would have spread like wildfire. If he’s not here on an official visit, it could almost be taken as an act of war. Do you think he’s a spy?”

            “I don’t know what he is. Maybe I was wrong, maybe not.” Torin rubbed his forehead with a slightly shaky hand.

            “Do you think we should tell someone?” Jerith also felt a dull ache in his head, and he rubbed his temples to ease the tension.

            “No! Nooooo… are you insane? Don’t be daft. This is not our problem. I don’t think we should get involved! Not at all. I could be wrong about him being a Kallaran. I don’t know anything for sure. Maybe we just got scared when he spotted us and yelled at us. If we say something, we would probably just be getting some poor, unsuspecting Vladrian into trouble for no good reason. If that were the case, then we’d be in big trouble, that’s for sure. I think we should just forget about him altogether for now. If he’s here and not supposed to be, the King’s men will take care of him. That’s their job. Let’s just go home and forget we ever saw him. Ok?”

            “Sounds good to me,” Jerith said, not totally convinced this was the correct course of action. They agreed not to think about the strange man again and headed for the far end of the alley, taking a shortcut home, wanting to get there as fast as possible and avoid any further mishaps.