3
The tavern was tucked along a bend in the northern road, its lacquered wooden sign swinging with the wind.
A harp of gold denoted the name of the place: The Golden Harp .
Music and laughter poured out into the cold night air, along with the scent of rich spices, roasted meat, and the ever-present tang of wood smoke.
Jinn travelers filled the common room, their colorful garb and ever-moving hands a symphony of life in the flickering candlelight.
Kurt had noted the many wagons parked all along the road leading up to the inn, as well as crowding the yard.
This place was a regular stop for caravans going north, and it looked like Kurt’s information about the wagon train that had recently departed from Valdis Maj was right on the money.
He’d set out separately, fully intending to intercept and join with the caravan here.
If he played this right, no one from the city would be the wiser to his presence.
Kurt stepped inside The Golden Harp , pausing just a moment to push back the hood of his cloak.
There wasn’t snow on the ground yet, but the farther north they went, the more likely they would be to run into colder weather.
As it was, it was chillier here than in the city, and he felt the difference.
The warmth of the tavern hit him like a wall, and he breathed it in gratefully.
He looked around, trying to be casual in his perusal of the room.
He nodded to the innkeeper at the bar and ordered a beer, then paid the man and took his tankard toward an empty seat.
He pretended surprise when he spied the man he’d been looking for.
There, in the far corner, beneath a cluster of hanging lanterns, sat the man he sought.
“Master Avery,” Kurt said with a wide grin, striding forward. “I’d know that booming laugh anywhere.”
Master Avery, barrel-chested and broad-nosed, turned and broke into a grin. “Well, well! If it isn’t my old friend, Kurt. My daughters will be well pleased to see you, I’m thinking.”
They clasped forearms warmly, and Kurt gave the older man a quick embrace before motioning to a passing server.
“Another round for my friend,” he called, tossing a copper to the girl. She grinned, nodded and moved off to get the refill.
Master Avery’s dark eyes sparkled as he patted the seat beside him. “Come, sit. Tell me what the glass maker’s guild is doing sending one of their best all the way out here into the cold north.”
Kurt slid into the chair and took a sip of his beer before replying. “Rumor’s got it there’s obsidian glass in the far north.”
Avery raised his brows. “Obsidian? Up there?”
“That’s the rumor,” Kurt said with a wink. “Strange things lie buried beneath the ice. And obsidian’s rare enough to fetch a fine price if I can find some and bring it back to the guild.”
Avery snorted and took a drink from the newly filled tankard the serving girl had just delivered.
“You want to haul yourself all the way up into the snowdrifts over a far-fetched rumor?”
“I’ve done stranger things,” Kurt replied, lifting his tankard.
“Besides, I may be a craftsman now, but I still answer to my Mistress Isolde. She was intrigued enough to send me to check on the rumor. If there’s truth to the stories, I’ll return a hero and possibly make my fortune at the same time.
Obsidian is rare and precious. Ever since the ice dragon gifted the King with an obsidian-bladed scythe, it’s become very fashionable among the highborn.
There’s just not enough of it to go around, and even the smallest amount could bring quite a profit. ”
“Speaking of profit…” Master Avery took a sip, looking at Kurt over the rim of his tankard, his eyes turning shrewd. “Did you happen to bring along any of the pretty glass bottles you make? You know my girls would happily trade for any you might have with you.”
“Just your girls? I confess, I was hoping to trade with you, Master Avery. I brought two cases of my best potion vials, including some of the fancy ones and a lot of the plain. I was hoping you would take them in trade for a place in your caravan,” Kurt proposed.
He knew he’d have to contribute something to earn a spot in the wagon train and had come prepared.
“Ah. Now you’re speaking my language, young Kurt. I think something can be arranged. Do you need wagon space or did you come prepared to sleep rough?”
“I have two horses and a tent, but I’d welcome a place to sleep under someone’s wagon, if it’s available. In exchange, I would pledge to help defend the wagon and the caravan itself from any brigands who dare to attack. You know I’m a trained fighter.”
“Growing up as you did with Isolde and her General, I know you were taught many skills,” Master Avery answered somewhat vaguely.
He was part of the Jinn Brotherhood, as was Isolde.
They all knew how to keep a secret and knew a lot more about each other’s business that they would never reveal to an outsider.
“I would pledge those skills to aid your journey, sir. If you’ll have me,” Kurt said at once.
The Jinn master chuckled and thumped his tankard on the table.
“Aye, lad. You can have the ground below my very own wagon, if you want it. And my girls will be pleased with the crates of your handiwork. They always make good profit on their potions, and they can use the travel time to bottle up some more. You’ve always been good to my girls. And I trust you more than most.”
Kurt’s smile softened. “That means more to me than you know.”
Avery leaned in, his voice dropping just a notch. “But obsidian’s not the only thing drawing men north these days. There are whispers of trouble. Discontent. Even a few blades in the dark. You sure you know what you’re walking into?”
“I’ll be careful,” Kurt said, allowing just a trace of gravity into his voice. “I don’t plan to get involved in anything I don’t have to. Just looking to follow the trail, see where it leads. If nothing comes of it, I’ll go back to the city with a good story and empty pockets.”
Avery studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. We leave at first light.”
Kurt nodded. “I’ll be ready.”
“You can ride alongside us, if you want. You know my girls like a good story, and you always did have a way with tall tales of your dragon friends.”
“Your daughters and lady have probably heard all my stories already.” Kurt laughed. “But I do have a traveling companion that they might like to meet. One of the virkin decided to accompany me. A little green fellow named Arch. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” Avery smiled broadly. “Virkin go where they will, and they are always considered good luck to have along for the journey. Your little friend is most welcome. I suppose since you can talk with dragons, you can also talk to virkin?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” Kurt agreed. “I didn’t expect it, but I seem to have the knack.”
“It is a gift, lad. A rare and wonderful gift. I look forward to hearing more of your magical tales as we journey.” Master Avery raised his tankard, and Kurt did the same, clinking them together, sealing the bargain.
“To safe travels,” Avery said.
“To good friends,” Kurt replied.
And as the laughter rose once more and the fire crackled in the hearth, neither of them mentioned the shadows gathering in the north again, nor the danger that waited beyond the edge of the maps.
The borders of Valdis had been greatly expanded in recent years, but the lands far from the capital were still wild and widely unknown. Kurt had his work cut out for him.
The next morning, Kurt was ready with his horses.
He had offloaded the two crates of potion vials into the back of Master Avery’s family wagon, much to the delight of Madam Avery and her daughters.
They had all been pleased to see the new glassware, and Kurt, and most especially Sir Arch, the virkin who sat on the pack horse’s back, watching everything around him with great interest and a regal air.
They traveled far that day and the next.
Each night, Kurt helped Master Avery with his horses, unhitching them and taking them over to the grazing area with his own horses, then returning to set up his bedroll under the stationary wagon.
He had dinner with the family, contributing some of the supplies he’d brought with him.
In fact, he’d packed several small bottles of precious spices he’d traded for in the city and three pots of honey from the southern flower fields, which he gave to Madam Avery in exchange for the meals she was providing.
Barter was a way of life among the Jinn, and Kurt had known enough not to arrive empty-handed.
The wagon train had bypassed many of the smaller towns on the road from the capital in order to arrive at one of the larger villages in time for a festival that was to be held in a few days.
They would arrive in time to set up their wares, and the musicians among them would be ready to entertain all and sundry.
They would stay the three days of the festival in order to earn the most profit they could, then be on their way again, headed north.
Kurt had known of the stop and hadn’t minded the slight delay.
Traveling with the caravan was both safer and less noticeable than making the trip on his own.
This way, he had the cover of being a traveling craftsman, able to trade his wares for coin or other items. His saddlebags and his pack horse were loaded with small trinkets for just that purpose.
He and some of Isolde’s apprentices had made the small glass items especially for this sort of mission.
He would use the proceeds to fund the rest of his journey, the apprentices being paid by the crown for their work as a roundabout way of paying for Kurt’s needs on this mission.