An Armory of Swords by Fred Saberhagen

Author:Fred Saberhagen [Saberhagen, Fred]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780812522839
Publisher: Tor Fantasy
Published: 2012-01-21T05:54:20+00:00

“Charlie’s gone to fill our kegs,

’Cause all that’s left is stale dregs

In the Town of Aren-Nath!

In our little Town of Aren-Nath!

Aren-Nath, Aren-Nath,

Where mud is thick,

The kids are sick,

And God’s plan gone awry...

But we still serve the Vassal’s will,

And down we our last pints of swill,

For Charlie’s on his way!

Charlie’s on his merry way!"

The song had ended and shouts rang out through the tavern.

“Long live the Vassal!”

“Long live the Vassal of Aren-Nath, and gods keep his Sword!”

“Hoorah! Hoorah!”

Charlie was pushed out into the dark and there was a short silence. There was the snort and whinny of a load-beast, and in his mind Aron could almost see the fog of its breath. Then there came a jingle, a creak, and a drunken hiyah! before the voices started their chatter again. The barmaid leaned far over the counter and gave one man a toothless smile.

Aron felt Klin’s boot kicking into his calves; he looked up from the hole. Klin gestured back the way from which they had come. Aron understood and got carefully to a crouch. He turned himself around and crept back towards the hole to the outside. He climbed out and was in night again and remembered that it was cold. The music was softer now. He found his way down the beam, onto the shed, and into the dark alley. Klin was on his heels the whole way, whispering for him to hurry it up.

They picked their way down the alley to the front of the bar. There, a tall figure stepped out of the shadows. It was rail thin. Aron knew it had to be Tall Boy.

“Did y’get it?” Klin asked hurriedly.

Tall Boy pulled a glass bottle halfway out of his coat pocket to show.

“Charlie always keeps this one beneath his seat,” Klin explained. They all shuffled back into the alley. Tall Boy knocked the cork off the bottle with the back of his hand, took a swig, then wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve and passed the bottle to Klin. Klin followed, and offered it to Aron. He refused. Klin shrugged, and Tall Boy drank deeply again.

“We’ve got one more thing to do tonight, Aron,” Klin explained. Aron looked to him in silence. “You don’t know what that is, do you?”

Aron shook his head.

Tall Boy smiled and bit his lip and took another swig, exchanging a glance with Klin.

“Tonight we’re going into Nero’s house,” Klin said flatly.

Aron’s heart began to race. Nero was a man who lived in the forest, a man whom he had never seen but about whom he had heard much. The strength in his hands could tear the limbs off a man. In his mind and in his books he held strange powers barely under control. When forest winds whispered at night, it was said, they were angry spirits, looking for Nero. The sight of his black carriage approaching on a forest path gave men sleepless nights.

To go within his house would be suicide.

Klin and Tall Boy stood drinking for a few minutes and Aron did not know what he would do.

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