Path Of The Broken

21. Subtlety-3

Alex sat in the back corner of the inn that was fast becoming his regular. At least he’d finally worked out its name. The Last Stop was a surprisingly comfortable inn in the village at the edge of the forest in what many considered a forgotten corner of the realm. It had the added advantage of being close by to his favourite practice ground, and was surprisingly civilised. He threw back his hood and removed his cloak—he’d given up trying to hide his identity. Given a chest of his own discreet, unadorned clothing had arrived at the inn along with a couple of the Elite, and that the bill always seemed to be paid, he guessed the publican knew precisely who he was, or at least guessed. The regular patrons certainly didn’t pay him any more attention than to nod welcome as he entered. If they knew who he was, they certainly kept their own counsel and didn’t seem all that bothered. Then again, he’d never caused them any trouble here, that he was aware of. The Elite kept a discreet eye on him but didn’t interfere—he guessed they had strict orders. Either way, he was glad that they let him be.

One of the evenings not long after the Elite had arrived, a caravan master had offered the Elite on guard a job. The regulars in the bar had laughed in amusement, and even Alex had smiled as the pair politely turned it down. That, if anything, told him that the local residents knew exactly who he was. They knew full well that the two well-armed, quietly confident and watchful men propped in the corner were not mercenaries waiting around for a job on a caravan. The clearly oblivious caravan master had then sized him up and begun to walk in his direction. The Elite hadn’t needed any orders. Alex’s face had obviously conveyed to them he wasn’t in the mood to be approached. They had reacted swiftly enough, without any requests at all, and headed off the caravan master, suggesting to him it wouldn’t be a good idea. That had caused even more amusement to the patrons. The caravan master had been clearly confused by the reaction of the bar to his offer, and Alex had no doubt that he’d left even more confused, with no one willing to clarify the situation to him.

Alex wasn’t sure what to make of his gear and some of the Elite taking up permanent residence, other than that William had obviously located him, and, rather than try to have him hauled back to the palace, was giving him the space he needed. Alex sighed as the familiar feeling of guilt settled on him. A visit to his brother, if not his father, was overdue again; it was something he had recognised he’d been putting off. Still, now that he was a little bit more stable, it was a risk he should take more frequently. He knew that he could relocate himself easily, yet that would worry his brother, and then he’d only send people out to locate him again. If he was honest with himself, it also showed him that perhaps the door wasn’t as closed as he’d thought it was.

Alex grinned as the owner’s lad brought a jug of wine and a plate of food in his direction without having to be asked to do so. Feeling the low-level surge of power, then seeing the steam rise from the plate of food, Alex realised that the boy had heated it. It surprised him a little, and he looked at the boy curiously. Not that the lad had much power. Small, low-level uses of the veil were a part of daily life that was often discounted, although generally kept hidden from sight in this day and age, like the dirty little secret that everyone was keeping from each other. People thought—incorrectly, as it turned out—that it wasn’t the same type of power that made the Sundered.

Power was power, and it all came from the veil. It was just that the more common usage was akin to comparing a tiny droplet of water dripping from a water glass to a waterfall. Yet here in this small, remote village far from everywhere else in the realm, they seemed to have very little stigma associated with those little abilities. Alex wondered whether it was their very isolation that helped them maintain their way of life. He’d also not seen any sign at all that they were killing children detected to have abilities like his, as happened in the bigger villages. Still, there also hadn’t been any sign at all of any of the Sundered nearby that he had detected either nor a*********s of farmers’ children going mad from the Taint.

Alex thanked the boy and picking up the fork. He tasted a mouthful of the stew—big chunks of tender meat, vegetables and fragrant herbs—and he smiled in appreciation. The kitchen staff made good use of the provender from the edge of the forest. Alex realised he’d made short work of the plate of food as he wiped up the last of the rich gravy from the dish with the last of his bread and popped it into his mouth. Sitting back contentedly, he polished off the last of the wine he’d been served with it. It was a local variety that they were extremely proud of, and well they should be. It would be entirely in place on the king’s table. Contemplating the empty pitcher, he caught the innkeeper’s eye and held the empty pitcher up with a hopeful smile. The man grinned and filled a fresh pitcher from the cask behind the bar before making his way across to Alex, quietly refilling his goblet before placing the pitcher on the table. Alex thanked him and gestured for him to sit. The barman scrutinised him a moment, then nodded agreement and settled on the bench opposite. The innkeeper’s boy darted across the bar with another goblet for his father and moved back to look after the bar.

“I take it my brother has been paying you well?” Alex sipped his wine, keeping his eye on the man, deciding a little bluntness was in order.

“Yes, Your Highness, but you were always welcome here even before then. You never caused us any problems.” The man’s voice was sincere.

Alex smiled sadly. That meant that even here they had heard about the trouble that had occurred.

“You weren’t ever worried that I’d go mad and kill you all?” Alex felt he might as well be forthright. Apart from everything else, he was curious.

“No, Your Highness.” He looked up at Alex and took a sip from his own goblet before continuing with care. “Even when you weren’t quite so well, you never tried to harm any of us.”

“You knew who I was?” Alex glanced around, aware that many in the bar were trying to look like they were not paying attention to the conversation and failing miserably. He’d liked the idea of being anonymous for a small space of time, but that apparently hadn’t happened even though he’d thought it did.

The barman chuckled in amusement, his eyes lighting up. “Yes, Your Highness. We’re a small village at the edge of the realm, but you are the son of our king and word travels, even out here.”

Alex considered those words for a moment and absently filled up the man’s goblet before refilling his own from the pitcher. He hardly noticed when the boy, at a gesture from his father, came and replaced the pitcher before retreating once more. Finally, Alex stirred.

“Thank you for the refuge this place has been and the risk all of you took in taking me in.” Alex relaxed back into his seat, noting that the Elite sitting quietly in the corner did so as well. They were always vigilant, even if they didn’t look it; he knew they wouldn’t have been happy about the distance between them and him. The guards never were in bars, particularly after the kidnap attempt.

The portly man shook his head. “No thanks needed, lad. You’ll always find refuge here should you need a break. We’ll defend you like you’re our own kin.”

Alex noted the amusement in the guards' eyes although they carefully didn’t laugh. The barman was obviously sincere in his claim. He glanced around the bar and noted that they all seemed to be. Alex felt overwhelmed that these strangers would take him in, regardless of hearing the various rumours that he’d gone mad, and was death on two legs for any that confronted him. They had ignored all warnings and taken him in regardless.

“You don’t fear the Sundered?” Alex was genuinely confused. Everyone feared the Sundered, or so he had thought.

The man shrugged. “We’ve heard about them. You’re not that, if it’s what you’ve feared, lad.”

Alex turned his attention back to the barman, took a sip of his wine, then licked his lips before replying. “What do you mean?”

The barman looked at him sincerely. “You’re just a mite confused with the gift and all. We’ve had some turn like that. You’re not the murderous kind.”

A harsh bark of laughter escaped his lips before he could stop it, he could hear the bitterness in it. “I’ve killed. My memories show me I have.”

Hearing the creak of a chair nearby, Alex flicked his gaze up and caught the eye of the woman who’d moved to face him.

“I’m sure you have, lad. I’m sure your guards over there have killed when the occasion warranted it as well. Yet I’d rather them sitting over there in the corner than some others who think of themselves as respectable.” The old woman nodded her head emphatically and, much to his bemusement, so did others in the bar.

Alex realised they accepted him not because they didn’t know the risk he represented, but because they did. Yet they didn’t fear what he might do. That gave him hope that perhaps he might be better and safer than he thought he was.

Alex was drawn out of his introspection as the door to the inn opened, and without having to look, he knew exactly who it was. The barman looked over and, smiling, he raised his goblet to Alex before standing clear of the table as Isabella drew near. Alex held out his hand to her and she took it without hesitation, sliding into the seat next to him. She smiled at the barkeep as he poured her a drink before retreating to the bar. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t have to. She simply settled back into his arms. Alex found that was one of the things he really liked about Isabella. They could sit there in companionable silence. She knew when to speak, to draw him out, and when to let him be.

They sat and enjoyed the evening and each other’s company, finishing off the food and drink between them. Keeping his eyes on Isabella, he stood, backing up towards the stairs that led to the rooms above, tugging on her hands lightly. Isabella laughed. Rising from their table, she joined him in retreating upstairs to his bedroom.