Page 3 of Raven's Rise
The stranger looked very confused. “Um, no.”
“If I’m not on a ship, then it’s no matter to me how the tide turns.” Rafe glared at the stranger. “Let a man drink in peace.”
“You’re for the Empress, then?” the man pressed, evidently not getting the message.
“I’m for finishing this ale without interruption,” Rafe said. He put his hand to the hilt of his dagger.
That cleared the matter up. The stranger turned away, muttering something under his breath. Rafe ignored him and applied himself to getting drunk.
He was doing quite well, on his fourth or fifth ale, when another interruption came.
“Beg pardon, sir knight,” a voice said.
“God’s wounds, not another one.” Rafe turned in his seat, ready to chastise whoever dared intrude on his solitude. He confronted a man about his own age...well, actually somewhat younger. Twenty at most. He stood strong and broad-shouldered, but with a certain hesitation in his bearing. Rafe looked him over, trying to guess his occupation. Farmer turned soldier, probably, like so many others in this anarchic kingdom. “What is it?”
The man gave a little bow, causing straw-colored hair to flop over one eye. “My name is Simon Faber. Apologies for disturbing your evening, but I have a proposition for you.”
“I don’t gamble,” Rafe said, already half-turned back to his drink.
“It’s a job for hire.”
“I don’t need money.”
“But I do,” Simon said.
Rafe looked back, feeling a spark of curiosity in spite of himself. “You take it then. Why even tell me? What is the job?”
“A lord in this shire needs to hire an armed escort for a journey. A family member must travel some distance and must be protected along the way, with the state of the country being so uncertain. I have two friends I trust—”
Rafe took a long sip of ale. Two friends was two more than he had himself. Yet another mistake for which he had only himself to blame. The reminder didn’t help his mood.
“—but the lord will be more inclined to give the job to an established name,” Simon continued. “I fear he’ll not consider me. But ifyouwere at the head of the group, Sir Rafe, he’d hire us without question.”
“So,” Rafe said slowly. “You want me to help you get a job escorting some pimply-faced noble for miles through the forest, all by using my reputation as a fighter to secure the job, and in return, I expect, you think I’ll give you and your friends all the pay, because I’m such a charitable soul. Correct?”
Simon’s faced reddened slightly, and Rafe knew he’d guessed correctly on that last part.
“Your generosity is spoken of. You give most of your winnings to local churches, and Lord Otto would surely trust a good Christian such as yourself.”
Rafe smirked into his mug. He wasn’t a good anything. And escorting nobles around the country was hardly in his field of expertise—in fact, the one time he’d done it in the past led to his downfall. Then again, what else was he going to do? He could find yet another tournament. Humiliate yet another opponent. But what was to be gained from that?
“Where’s this lord live?” Rafe asked.
Simon’s eyes brightened. “North of here, half a day’s ride.”
“Then tomorrow we’ll go and see him. Meet me here, about an hour after dawn.”
“I shall, Sir Rafe.” Simon paused, then added, “Um, will you be sober by then?”
Rafe lifted his mug in a mock toast. “If God wills it.”
Chapter 2
Ivory and gold towers stretchedupward into a pure blue sky, until they were lost amid clouds of brilliant white. No hint of grey marred the sky—there could never be a storm here.
The great structure seemed to be built entirely of priceless marble, in hues of creamy white and rose. The roofs glinted gold and silver in the light.
In front of the structure lay fields of emerald dotted with wildflowers in all imaginable hues. A golden road cut through the fields, inviting the viewer to step forward and see what marvels lay in store.
