Spelljammer: The Cloakmaster Cycle, Book 01 - Beyond the Moons by David Cook

Author:David Cook [Cook, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-5607-6153-2
Publisher: Fanversion Publishing
Published: 2020-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Teldin found a niche in the shade, away from the afternoon sun and away from the elf ship. The distraught farmer folded his lanky body and settled into a quiet doorway to brood. Sitting on the stoop, his chin resting in his hands, he watched the legs of pedrestrians go by, not even making the effort to look up to see the faces that connected to the boots, shoes, and sandals that clicked across the cobblestones before him.

Teldin must have made an appropriately pathetic sight, for several of the passersby stopped long enough to toss a coin from the purses at his feet. In his dejection, Teldin barely noticed the small coins that grew before him.

Behind the huddled farmer the door creaked open. “Go away! Get out of my door, you worthless beggar!” A hail of swats came down on Teldin’s head. Scrambling up from where he sat, the yeoman escaped the wrath of a plump woman standing in the doorway. “And take your filthy money, too!” she screamed, kicking the coins at his feet.

“And to think I protected your kind in the war!” Teldin viciously shouted at the shrewish woman. Her face, previously flushed with indignation, drained pale as she felt the rage that boiled out of the lanky beggar on her stoop. “Damn you all to the Abyss!” the farmer snarled, baring his teeth in an animalistic grimace. He took a shaking step toward and towered over the short woman. The terrified woman trembled before his assault, then slammed the door in Teldin’s face before he might spring to the attack.

As he stood in the street, Teldin realized he was far from alone, for circle of gawkers had gathered behind him. Embarrassed by the outburst, he scooped up the scattered of money, then became embarrassed by that, too. He had not come to Palanthas to beg. Pride in honor said to throw the money away; common sense urged them to keep it. Common sense won, and Teldin hurriedly but the money into his purse, all the time muttering, “I’ll never get to Mount Nevermind,” as he counted the coins. The onlookers unconsciously drew back lest the beggar be a madman.

Such was Teldin’s mood that he forsook what little caution he had exercised all day, little caring to note any suspicious characters. Thus, as he left the side street, he failed to notice Brun One-Eye and another of Vandoorm’s mercenaries watching from among the small crowd gathered at the homemaker’s door. With a nod, Brun and his companion began to follow Teldin at a safe distance, stepping into a merchant’s stall or a shadowed doorway each time Teldin even casually looked about.

It wasn’t until Teldin had reached the smaller back streets where the foot traffic thinned out, that he sensed something odd. There, between the half-timbered houses that jutted over the street. Teldin became aware of strangers behind him. He turned in an attempt to catch whoever followed him, but the yeoman’s only reward was a shadow disappearing down a side street and a thunk of a door quickly closing.

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