Find a Christian store

<< Go Back

The Scholar's Quest: Book One, The Way

By Brad Rucker

Order Now!

Chapter 1: Everton

In the dream, Traver felt the thumps. He had been facing down two inept swordsmen who had failed to score any hits on him. But suddenly one of them stooped, picked up some rocks and began tossing them at Traver’s head. They missed wide left, of course. The swordsmen hadn’t hit anything they’d aimed at since the dream began. But these stones hit the castle wall to his left and they made large sounds for such small stones.

Traver stepped back in and sliced at the rock-thrower, who then jumped back and began yelling “Open! Open!” And that’s when Traver awoke.
He struggled free of the Inn’s rented and well-worn blankets and half-stumbled to the door. When he opened it, the serving girl from supper last night stood there with hands on hips.

“It’s about time! I had thought you perhaps drunk and in a stupor! I’ve been banging on that door for quite awhile, sir!”

“No, I don’t drink. It’s actually the only vice I do not possess, Miss. What did you want with me?”

“You had spoken of your search for work, sir. And this morning an older gentleman appeared. He mentioned to the barkeep that he is looking to hire an armsman. Bertrand, the barkeep, remembered you and thought that the two of you might strike a bargain. And Bertrand to make a bit of money for the connection, if you would.”

“If a bargain ends up being struck, for certain. Please let the gentleman know that I’ll be down in just a few minutes. Thank you, Miss.”

*****

After wiping his leather accoutrements clean, Traver attached his pistol and rapier harness and pulled on his knee-length fighting boots. He wanted to look professional and proper, but a little dangerous as well. When he had topped his head off with his cavalier’s hat, he appraised his reflection in the weathered mirror. His body showed the hard-won muscle of thirty-one years, along with the associated scars. His blue jacket and matching cape still looked serviceable. His white breaches could use a good cleaning, but that was the hazard of white clothing. He was taller than average and had always used that to his advantage. But he wasn’t too tall. He could look imposing or friendly. It was a matter of standing rigid or slumping a bit. He chose to stand tall for this encounter.

He judged himself passed on his inspection and left his room.

As Traver came downstairs, he spotted the man immediately. He fit into the Inn’s ambience like a pocket watch set amongst cannon balls. He was short and a bit on the rotund side, with a new travel cloak, new boots and a small dagger in a scabbard that Traver would wager had been in a shopkeeper’s window less than a week before. His eyes looked out at the world through thick lenses, but they were intelligent and kind eyes and had an amused and joyous twinkle in them. Traver immediately liked him, but quashed that feeling as fast as he could. Liking a possible employer would reduce his pay by dulling his negotiating skills. He walked up to the newly-minted traveler and introduced himself.

“Sir, I was told that you sought someone to hire as an armsman. Am I speaking to the correct gentleman?”

“Indeed, sir”, squeaked the rotund fellow, “I thought that was you. I am seeking a man skilled enough to keep me alive while I work -- and dangerous enough in appearance to turn away many troubles before they happen. Are you Traver, the one that the barkeep told me of?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid I don’t know your name. May I have it?”

“I am Scholl. I am pleased to meet you, sir. I understand you have much experience in arms and fighting?”

“May I sit? And perhaps we can get the serving girls to bring us something to drink while we discuss things, yes?”

“Of course, sir! My apologies!” Scholl signaled the barkeep and made a drinking motion with his thumb. “What is your pleasure?”

“Just small beer sir.” Small beer contained almost no alcohol – just enough to kill whatever lived in the local water. And Traver lived by the old saying “Blinded wits, bloodied guts”.

“Of course, of course.” Scholl gave the order to the serving girl in a kind and patient manner.

As they waited for the beer, Traver saw Scholl appraising his arms and clothing. Glad that he’d made the effort to polish and prepare as much as he could, he answered the previous question.

“Yes, Master Scholl, I have quite a bit of experience in fighting. I have been at it for almost all of my life, having begun training at age seven and then stepping into my first battle at age twelve. I have led squads of up to twenty-five soldiers and have served three dukes and a vice earl. I have personal skill with both pistol and musket, and with rapier and dagger. I have some experience with bow and crossbow, but I’m hardly an expert with either one. I have many faults, however lying and exaggerating aren’t included in them. But knowing what you are looking for in an armsman would help. What kind of work do you do, Master Scholl?”

“Not much of any importance. But one cannot be too careful, correct?”

“I couldn’t agree more, sir. And when you just spoke, you touched your face before answering. In my experience, that indicates that you are hiding something or wish to change the subject. And as you say, sir, one cannot be too careful. May I ask again what you do?”

Scholl turned and faced Traver directly. He looked right into the veteran’s eyes. “Ah. I appreciate your candor. And so I will answer with the same candor. I am doing research on the King.”

Traver drew back and gazed at the little man in surprise. “And why would you do that? And why would research on a myth be something that requires armed protection?”

Scholl’s eyes flamed in fire for a moment, then he calmly returned, “Not a myth, my good soldier. Just a lot of poorly understood and sometimes seemingly contradictory facts.”

“Most of my countrymen would disagree with you, Master Scholl. The King is a joke here. The stories about him are anything but flattering. And just expressing interest in him is enough to get you thrown out of a number of establishments here in Everton.”

“From my experience here during the last few days, I know you are telling the truth. But my work is to bring the King’s true nature to light – whatever it is – and to disabuse folk about the myths and rumors and slander that has been part of the talk in these parts for ages, now. In order to do that, I am seeking things that some very powerful people do not want found. Is that sufficiently candid for you, my soldierly friend?”

“I thank you for it, Master Scholl. But may I ask a few more questions? It is, I’m afraid, necessary in order to assess your situation and to determine whether or not I would serve as a suitable protector.”

“Ask away, son. But please be aware that there are some things that I will not speak of with so many ears about.”

Traver glanced around. There were six others in the Inn’s main room, not counting the serving girls. Only one met his gaze and then quickly looked away. He was a slight young man huddled over his mug, head sunk deep in his cloak. The cloaked teen was hardly a physical threat.

“Fair enough, sir. The things that you seek – are they local hereabouts? Or do they require journeying?”

“What difference would that make to the protection that you could provide me?”

Traver sighed a bit. Scholl was even less experienced in the world than he’d thought.

“Briefly, sir, protective duties are much simpler and require fewer men when in a town than on the road. In the countryside, watches may need to be set with multiple men taking their turns through the night. Traveling generally takes two to three times the men to provide acceptable security. Does that make sense, sir?”

Scholl looked a bit startled. “Forgive me, Traver. I have spent many years in study and not many in the woods and wilds. I did not anticipate needing more than one guard, frankly. The monies aren’t a problem, but I never would have thought it would take so many men.”

“Most folks don’t understand either, sir. But facing an enemy that can choose where and when to attack requires more eyes and more ears.” Traver set his mug down to put a punctuation mark on his point.

“Well said. Now that I do understand, this will entail quite a bit of traveling, I’m afraid. I’d rather not go into the details here, but it will be quite literally months on the road. The items I’m seeking are scattered far and wide and for most of them, their precise location is unknown to me.”

Traver shook his head once and said, “Then I’m afraid I’m not your man, sir. While I do feel the need of work, I have spent the better part of the last twenty years traveling, moving from conflict to conflict and I have resolved to settle down now and sink in some roots. I beg your pardon and hope you will forgive me for wasting your time, but I have some need to find a home after the lack of one for two decades.”

Where Traver thought he’d see annoyance or dismissive impatience from Scholl, instead the older man smiled a bit lopsidedly and leaned in a bit to look Traver in the eye.

“I do not see my time as wasted, sir. I appreciate the opportunity to learn a bit more about my security needs and I certainly understand how travel and war can wear a soul out. Do you have family here?”

Traver shook his head, “No, all long dead and none were from Everton in any case. If you like, I might ask around and see if there are any reputable men available for the kind of work that you need.”

It was Scholl’s turn to shake his head, “No, but thank you. I’m not looking to advertise my presence and research project too widely, but I do thank you for your time and advice. And I hope that you find peace and a place to put down those roots of yours.”

Traver admitted to himself that he felt a connection with the old man and almost regretted being unwilling to assist him. As he walked back through the common area and started back upstairs to his room, he had no idea how much regret was coming his way.

*****

It was close to 2 a.m. and the banging on his door woke up Traver once again.
Standing in his doorway was the serving girl, terrified and weeping and looking fearfully down the hallway.

“Your employer is in trouble, sir! You must come right away!”

Traver didn’t bother to correct her as to his employment status, but quickly grabbed his rapier and followed her down the hall to a room with an open door. Nudging past the girl, he saw a crumpled and bloodied shape on one bed and an unmoving figure face down on the second. He stepped quickly to Scholl and saw in his eyes that the man was gone. He glanced left and took in the second figure and realized it was the cloaked teen from the common room last night. He appeared alive, but his eyes were strange and Traver suspected he’d been hit over the head and tossed aside.

“What happened here, girl? Did you see anyone coming in or leaving?”

She stammered, “No, no, sir. No one. I heard some loud bumps and came to see if all was right. I found the door open and the two of them like this. I didn’t know why you’d chosen to sleep in your current room rather than with them but I came to get you right away. Isn’t it your job to protect them?”

“It would have been had I accepted the offer, but we made no bargain last night. What time is the door locked downstairs?”

“It isn’t locked, sir. Bertrand has us open all night in case some late trade comes in. Shall I fetch him now, sir?”

Traver nodded and turned back to the body as she ran downstairs. Scholl had been stabbed multiple times beginning in his throat. Which was likely why no yelling had disturbed the assassination. For an assassination it definitely was. Traver knew the work of professionals. And from the wounds, this had been done by a man highly experienced and highly paid. The obvious move now was to wake the boy and find out what he’d seen. Traver decided he’d rather do that fully clothed, so he returned to his room and dressed.

*****

He sat across from the blow-addled lad in the still blood-stained room, along with the barkeep, Bertrand.

“You have been travelling with Scholl for a while, yes? I should have realized that you were together yesterday, but you were behind me so I never saw you listening in. But that’s what he had you doing, yes? Listening to our discussion, but hidden in plain sight so as not to be at risk?”

The teen nodded and obviously immediately regretted having done so. It would be a time before his head stopped ringing, probably. He answered in a pleasant, boyish voice.

“Yes, sir. I am – was - apprenticed to Master Scholl and have been in his employ for quite a number of years now. He had me cover up and feign being a stranger to him in order to reduce the danger to me. I have no idea why they didn’t kill me as well when they had the chance…” The boy’s eyes filled with tears. Traver didn’t know if it was from sentiment or fear.

Bluntly, Traver answered him.

“Not worth it. Men like this typically work on a per-kill basis and if they weren’t assured of being paid for your death, too, why risk the additional noise? Easier to tap you on the head while sleeping. And sometimes you even find one of these assassins with the tattered remains of a conscience. Probably didn’t want to kill someone so young. Were the two of you in possession of large sums of money?”

The teen wiped his eyes and shook his head, more carefully this time. “No. Enough for a few weeks, but not a substantial amount. And it’s all still in my pouch here.”

Traver looked at him carefully and judged him to be truthful. “Do you have any idea who might have done this? Was there anyone threatening Scholl recently? Did he fight with anyone or argue with anyone? Do you know anyone that hated him enough to kill him?”

The teen looked down and Traver thought he saw the glint of moisture in his eyes again. His hunch was proven true when teardrops appeared on the youth’s leggings. “No, every…everyone loved Scholl. Everyone that worked with him thought him brilliant and wonderful.”

Traver caught the emotion in his words. He replied quickly.

“That said, this makes no sense to me.”

Bertrand jumped in, “I feel partly responsible and at fault for the situation, sir. Leaving the door unlocked and unlatched downstairs like that. But we’ve never had trouble here. Not never like this anyway.”

Traver nodded. “I understand. But there’s something more here than meets the eye, I think. The type of person that did this wouldn’t come cheap. If money’s not the motive, then something else is. Something important to important people.”

The serving girl appeared at the door with a clean, wet cloth for the teen. She noticed the tears and touched his cheek. She helped him place it on the lump on his head and then stood, arms crossed, looking at Traver like he was yesterday’s slop.

“Yes, miss? You have something to say to me?”

“I think you are a terrible man!”

“Elise!” The barkeep tried to interrupt, but she kept on.

“How could you let that nice old man get killed while taking his money for protection? Are you a coward or a lout? What kind of man makes an agreement and then fails his Master the first night? Well? I am asking an account of you!”

Traver kept his calm and returned her gaze. “I’m afraid that you have a misconception. He never hired me. And we agreed that I wasn’t the man for his job.”

“Liar!” Her eyes flashed and her countenance conveyed outrage. “Daniel here told me that you’d taken on the job. You are just trying to wriggle out of your failure, aren’t you?”

Traver’s eyes moved to Daniel, the heretofore unnamed teen.

“Well, Daniel? As you heard our discussion last night, would you like to correct your statement? I’d suggest honesty, young one.”

Daniel’s eyes sought the floor and he softly said, “What he says is true. I lied so as to cover my Master with the protection of an illusion until he could hire an armsman.” His eyes sought Traver’s. “My apologies for that, sir.”
Traver thought the lad might cry again.

“Accepted. And now if your scolding is done…?”, he asked the serving girl.
Now uncertain, she shot a confused look towards Daniel, unfolded her arms and stepped quickly from the room.

“Fine. No apology needed from her, I suppose. I do believe it’s time to call the local constabulary.”, Traver said.

*****

The local constable, having come and investigated with some five or six questions, showed little stomach for chasing high-end assassins and declared it a complete mystery.

As the body was being wrapped for transport, Traver got a chance to examine it in the light. And then startled, examined it much more closely.

*****

He decided to address two problems at once. The other problem being his empty stomach. He walked downstairs and turned right into the kitchen. He passed a surprised cook at the fire pit, but continued until he saw the serving girl, Elise, placing portions onto plates. He stood a good fifteen feet away and pulled his pistol and pointed it directly at her. He shouted to the cook over his right shoulder, “Call Bertrand and get him here right now. And you, miss – you don’t move at all.”

When Bertrand arrived, he saw Traver sitting in a chair that he’d requisitioned, still a good way away from Elise and with his pistol leveled at her midsection. All while munching on a bit of breakfast.

“Are you mad?”, Bertrand exclaimed, “What are you doing? She’s no threat and I’m sure she’s sorry for yelling at you earlier.”

Traver, without taking his eyes from the girl responded, “She’s quite a threat, to be sure, and this is hardly about her outburst at me. Please have the constable called again. His little mystery has been solved, I believe.”

Bertrand signaled the cook to do as Traver had requested and then asked, “Solved how? And how is she a ‘threat’? I’m not following you, sir.”

Traver gestured at the girl. “Turn the palms of your hands towards me. Slowly, now. That’s right. What do you see, Bertrand?”

“Her hands, sir. Am I supposed to see something special about them?”

“Yes, but it’s small and she’s a bit distant. I saw part of it earlier, but not completely and it took me some time to put the pieces together. No – don’t move this way, miss, or I’ll be forced to shoot. Look at her right thumb, Bertrand. See the scaring?”

“Yes, barely. It looks like a star.”

“The same star I saw on the neck of our new corpse. She held his throat when she stabbed him. And the pressure caused that mark to remain after his death. I’ve seen it before. She’s from the Assassin’s Guild. I assume she is taking orders from someone and was working here in a kind of ready state, waiting for a target for a paying customer. It occurred to me that this is the first Inn on the road into town. A convenient place to meet new travelers. When she overheard his name last night, she executed – pardon the expression – her contract and killed him. And her outraged act was simply misdirection after the kill. Stay away from her. The Guild trains unarmed combat of a deadly form. We’ll have the constable deal with her. But only after he’s been warned.”

Soon after, the constable and two assistants arrived. After Traver explained, they tied the serving girl up while Traver covered her from a distance. The constable understood Traver’s reasoning and promised to keep her confined until a judge could hear the story.

*****

After that, Traver turned his attention to finishing his breakfast. He sat on a stool in the kitchen, his back to the wall and facing the door. The cook seemed willing to prepare anything in any quantity for him – probably frightened by the earlier scene – and Traver wasn’t inclined to dissuade him.
The kitchen door opened and the boy, Daniel, came in. He seemed to have been able to compose himself since Traver had last seen him. He came right to the point.

“I want to thank you, sir, for your help in apprehending Master Scholl’s murderer. He did not deserve such a death, but I am grateful to you for your help in bringing justice in the case.”

“You are quite welcome, Daniel. But I’m afraid I can’t claim that justice has been served as yet. Those who hired the assassin are still out there. And to put a bit of a point on it, you are most likely in danger now because of your association with Scholl. Anyone that would spend the kind of coin necessary to hire a Star Guild Assassin would have wanted to ensure that all loose ends have been tied off. You must have been kind to the girl or you struck her fancy for her to knock you unconscious instead of killing you outright. Or else she thought you were unaware of Scholl’s work. Are you unaware?”

“I have helped Scholl in the past, but not with anything important or valuable. Nothing that would call for assassins, for certain.”

“But your eyes moved down and right when you said that. That means you were inventing something. Not speaking the truth. Now’s the time for truth, boy. You won’t know who to trust until circumstances reveal that. And I think I’ve already shown you what I’m like in the circumstances you are most likely facing.”

Daniel’s cheeks flushed red and he said, “My master sternly warned me not to discuss any of these things with anyone. It seems I’ve done nothing but apologize to you since we met. I will tell you the tale if you are willing to pledge to me that you will not reveal it to anyone else.”

“Agreed. But let’s get somewhere a bit more out of the way.”

*****

They stood in the stables, in a far corner where Traver could watch both doors and most of the windows. The stables were remote and set apart from the Inn and this was as private a place as they were likely to find. Traver decided to begin the engagement with the first shot.

“So how long have you been pretending to be a boy, Miss?”

Daniel’s eyes showed astonishment and with mouth opened wide said, “What?? How in the world…”

And then with a shrug said, “About six years. My uncle Scholl and I decided that no one would take a female scholar seriously.” She looked intently at Traver.

“How did you know? I’ve never even had an inkling of someone suspecting and I’ve been working closely with people at the University for all this time.”

Traver allowed himself a bit of a smile.

“It was your reaction when I mentioned the serving girl. There was something in your eyes that panicked when I talked about her possibly being attracted to you. I’ve never met a young man your age that wouldn’t have wanted to discuss the possibility of someone of the fairer sex being attracted to them. You immediately went to a different topic. So I started watching your mannerisms. Your hands, your facial expressions, your walk, your gestures – they all seemed under superb control. Again, not a generally observed characteristic of young men. And how old are you? I would wager that you aren’t a teenager. Was this part of your deception?”

Her eyes took on a bit of an edge.

“I’m twenty-six, thank you very much. And I should have suspected you’d see through me when I saw how quickly you spotted Scholl dodging your questions. Have you always been this observant?”

“War makes you watch the other person’s eyes, hands, feet – everything. If you only listen to their words, you don’t live very long. Since the jig is up, what should I call you?”

“I am named Danielle.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Danielle. And now, because your safety perhaps depends on your truthfulness and a full revelation of Scholl’s activities, will you please tell me what in blazes is going on?”

And so she did.

Order Now!

<< Go Back


Developed by Camna, LLC

This is a service provided by ACFW, but does not in any way endorse any publisher, author, or work herein.