“Ark… Arkenn, sir.”
The brown-robed figure pulled a pendant from the inside of his robe. “Wear this. Never take it off. When the time is right, I will find you. Use a different name, one familiar to native E’Skaarans. Above all, do not call attention to yourself.” He whirled and hurried off.
Arkenn stared at the pendant.
Exactly like Petran’s.
And the one he’d seen before. Who was the man? A priest, perhaps? He certainly wasn’t a follower of the Lady in his drab attire. Her Chosen dressed as colorfully as exotic birds.
The men who’d taken Arkenn’s parents must have bought out an entire silk seller’s cart.
He slipped the charm around his neck, continuing wandering the city.
“Amos? Amos!” a bear of a man yelled, looking up and down the street. Broad shoulders, leather armor, sword gleaming at his hip. He stood two hands taller than Arkenn, much broader in the chest. “Where has that good for nothing gotten to now?” His gaze fell on Arkenn. “Boy!”
Arkenn pointed to himself. No other “boy” in sight.
“Yes, you.” The man gave an impatient “come here” gesture. “What’s your name, lad?”
Would word of what happened in the mountains travel this far? Down the street, a woman comforted a crying child. “Shh… Hush, Martin.”
Use a different name, one familiar to native E’Skaarans.
“Martin, sir. My name’s Martin.” In his experience, many from lesser tiers of society used no surname, especially if they weren’t the heir. Arkenn offered none.
The man nodded, stroking his faded red beard. “How would you like honest work, Martin?”
Honest work? Petran’s generous offering wouldn’t last forever. “What do I need to do?” Just because he’d only arrived in the city didn’t mean Arkenn would automatically trust strangers. Trusting friends and neighbors nearly cost him his life.
“I am Captain Gery Enys of the city guard. I’d talked my nephew into joining—or thought I had. Unfortunately, openings don’t come along every day.” He ran an assessing gaze over Arkenn. No way to miss the worn, too-large clothes, bare feet dusty from the road. “You’re a bit on the thin side but have sturdy bones. A few good meals, and you’ll be a fine figure of a man. How old are you?”
“I’ve seen eighteen summers.”
The captain nodded. “Then you’ve still plenty of time to fill out. Do you have a home?”
Should Arkenn admit the truth? No way could he lie successfully, knowing nothing of the city. “No, sir. I just arrived today.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Another country lad hoping for fortune in the city, are you?”
The offered explanation beat any reasoning Arkenn might come up with. “Yes, sir. I’m a younger son. No inheritance.”
“Then you’ll have a bed in the barracks, and you’ll feel at home with the guards. Many are like yourself, from other lands. The locals don’t like foreigners. You’ll be welcome if you can hold a sword and do what you’re told. The accommodations aren’t much, but you’re given food, clothes, and a place to sleep at night.” A smile peeked out of the man’s beard. “What more can a young man ask?” The smile turned into a grin and elbow nudge. “The young ladies like men in uniform.”
Captain Enys made a convincing recruiter but needn’t have said more than “food and a place to sleep.” But Arkenn—no,Martin—could also do without the admiring ladies and their scheming mothers. Several times he’d almost found himself with a bond mate in the village before the villagers turned on him.
He’d left village life behind. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t change things.
“What are the duties?” No need to make himself appear too eager. What if they found out about his crime? Not crime. Self-defense. An accident. No one knew he hadn’t died with the others, did they? Would they come looking?
If they did, he’d worry when the time came. But, for now, meals and a bed sounded good. He’d make Petran’s coins last as long as possible.
“Our company keeps the peace in the upper city. Not much crime among the rich, except for those who wish to steal wealth. Not like the poor sods patrolling the lower city, herding whores, chasing down cutpurses and the like at the docks. Occasionally, we even guard the temple when the public is invited.”
The temple? Where Ar… Martin might be found out.
“Offer doesn’t hold forever,” the man said. “My fool nephew could show up any minute now.”
“What must I do?” Martin. From this day forward, he’d be Martin, from a farming village to the north.
