Chapter 4

Upstairs at the Three Oaks Inn, late afternoon

The hotel room was not the nicest Yoshimo had stayed in, but it was far from the worst accommodations he’d known. After making sure the door was secure, he hung his pistol belt on a wooden peg and kicked off his boots. The feather bed called to him, but sleep would have to wait a while longer. He had much to plan, much to consider.

This will not be an easy task , he said to himself as he paced the room in thought. Yoshimo had sought tough bounties before. In fact, he had built a reputation for collecting bounties where all others had failed. But the Rasheman Kid was unlike the others Yoshimo had caught. Little was known about him, or his past. It wasn’t even known if he was actually from Rasheman. He’d simply appeared one day, and had been a terror ever since. The only thing everyone agreed on was that he was as dangerous as they came.

Yoshimo scratched at his chin, passing by a mirror. In it he saw the reflection of his hanging pistols. Etched into each handle were six notches, inlaid with silver. Yoshimo stared into the mirror for a long time.

A dozen men, Yoshi. And soon it will be thirteen.

Yoshimo’s thoughts began to wonder as he stared into the mirror, not really seeing himself or his pistols. He thought of the tiny fishing village he called home in Kozakura. What was it he had wanted to be back then? A shukenja.

Yoshimo chuckled in spite of himself. Me, a wandering priest, with no attachment for the finer things in life. He chuckled again and shook his head. It seemed so absurd now. Still, the childhood dream had been like so much else in the village. Simple, but pleasant. At least until the war with Wa had come.

Yoshimo shook away the ghostly memories and yawned. “Perhaps my thoughts will be clearer after a bit of rest” he said aloud, heading for the comfortable-looking bed.



*


Valygar’s cabin, southwest of the Windspear Hills


Keldorn wiped his mouth with a napkin. “A fine meal, miss Jaheira.”

The half-elf gave a demure smile as she cleared away the dishes. She returned a moment later and took her place at Valygar’s side. Her expression remained benign, but it was clear she intended to be part of the discussion that was to come.

“I admit I was surprised to see you wearing the badge, Keldorn” Valygar said, lighting his pipe. “I thought you had retired.”

“Not just yet” replied Keldorn. “I have one more duty to perform, it would seem.”

“The business you wanted to discuss?”

“The same.”

“So” interrupted Jaheira. “What, exactly, is it you wish from us?”

Keldorn was momentarily taken aback at Jaheria’s bluntness. He reminded himself that she had always been sharp-tongued, even by elven standards. Valygar grinned faintly. After a moment, Keldorn himself had to chuckle.

“I remember now why you two made such a fine couple” he said. “Aye, I have come here seeking help.”

“What sort of help?” Valygar asked.

Keldorn looked him straight in the eye. “I need your help tracking down an outlaw, old friend. The Rasheman Kid.”

Valygar let out a long breath. “The one who stole Anarg’s payroll shipment?”

“You’ve heard of that already?” Keldorn said in surprise.

“News like that travels fast” Valygar said with a wry smile.

“I suppose it does” Keldorn admitted. Pausing, he added “I know this is much to ask, old friend.”

Valygar blew out another long breath. “Why do you even trouble yourself so, Keldorn? You’ve done your bit, why not let someone else worry about this?”

“I am still sheriff, Valygar. And as such it is my duty to uphold the law.”

“Whose law?” Valygar said, his voice suddenly bitter. “The same law that has allowed men like Anarg LeClerc to gobble up the land and crush anyone who gets in his way?”

“Anarg’s not the issue, here.”

“Isn’t he?” Valygar shook his head wearily. “I spent three years as a scout in the army, and ten years more as your deputy. I thought that I could make a difference. I upheld the law, but did I really bring about any lasting justice? When LeClerc dammed the stream near Imnesvale for his mining operations, did the law give any thought to the farmers who needed that water for their crops? Did the law do anything when they had no choice but to sell their land to Anarg for next to nothing?”

“The law is not perfect, lad” Keldorn replied. “But we did much good together, too. How many outlaws did we bring in? How many killers, and thieves? And how many people lived safer because of what you personally did?”

“Perhaps” Valygar admitted. “But in the end, the cost was too high for me.” Softly, he added “Perhaps too high for you too, old friend.”

Keldorn stiffened and clenched his jaw. Valygar raised a hand.

“Forgive me, Keldorn. I should not have spoken so.”

“It’s…alright, Valygar” Keldorn replied. “You’ve always spoken your mind honestly. I can’t fault you for that.”

An awkward silence settled over the room. After a long moment, Keldorn checked his pocket watch and stood. “I’d best be underway if I hope to make Trademeet by nightfall.”

“I’m sorry, Keldorn” Valygar said, extending his hand. Keldorn shook it and smiled.

“No need to apologize, lad. Perhaps another time we can –”

“Wait.”

Jaheira had been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, deep in thought. She turned to Valygar and spoke in his ear. He frowned and gave her a curious look.

“You think they are related?”

“It is possible.”

Keldorn stared at the two, wondering what was transpiring before him. Valygar cleared his throat and spoke.

“I may be able to help you after all, Keldorn. At least indirectly.”



*


Upstairs at the Three Oaks Inn, early evening


Yoshimo woke from his nap and stretched. Outside his window he could see the sun had already set, shrouding the town in fading dusk. From the tavern below he could faintly hear the voices of patrons, drinking and hollering at the dancing girls. A bemused little smile played across Yoshimo’s face. Where there was drinking and cavorting, there was usually gambling.

Perhaps I could introduce the regulars to the game of poker , he thought.



Downstairs the tavern was already packed, a group of visiting merchants taking up half of the tables in the common area. Several of the dancing girls looked to be doing double duty as barmaids simply to keep up with the crowd. Yoshimo spied an empty table near the stairs and angled straight for it. Adjusting it so his chair would be back against the wall, he made himself comfortable and began studying the crowd. He saw several prospects amidst the traveling merchants. One heavyset merchant looked especially promising. His purse was bulging with coin and he appeared to have already had more than a sensible amount to drink. He called for a barmaid and went back to studying his mark.


“Whatcha’ want?”

Yoshimo looked up at the pink-haired girl that had come over to take his order. She looked a bit flustered, though cheerfully so. She carried a tray of empty drinks on one arm and a tray of fresh ones on the other.

Yoshimo raised an eyebrow. Imoen still had on her stage outfit from her routine earlier and had thrown a barkeep’s apron on over it. “You must be quite busy tonight” he said.

Imoen wrinkled her nose and gave Yoshimo a goofy look. “Gee, ya think?”

Yoshimo raised the other eyebrow. He had learned to appreciate the outspokenness of western women, but this was the first time any had made faces at him.

“Of course. I would like to order a drink for the gentlemen at that table over there.”

Imoen looked over her shoulder. “Him? Okay, if that’s what you want. You want to order whiskey, then?”

“I would prefer to let the gentleman –”

“Cuz, you know, that’s all he drinks. Though by the fourth or fifth drink he usually can’t tell the difference.”

Yoshimo’s mustache twitched a bit in a hint of mirth. “That will be fine, then.”

“Gotcha” she said breezily, already shouting out Yoshimo’s order to the barkeep.

Yoshimo studied the crowd for other prospects while he waited. He’d found several hopefuls when he noticed that his drinks had not yet arrived.


What is keeping that girl?



“Cut it out, you big mook!”

Imoen was at the bar, balancing a fresh tray of drinks with her right arm and trying to free herself from the octopus-like grasp of a drunken lout at the bar with her left.

“Come on, baby, whatsa’ matter?”

“Yer grubby paws all over me is what’s the matter, you creep!” Imoen grabbed a shot of whiskey from the tray and threw it in the man’s face. The man swore and leapt up off the barstool.

“Now, now. Settle down, Biff” said the bartender, suddenly very nervous. “The kid’s new, and she didn’t mean no harm –”

“The heck I didn’t!” Imoen said, glaring at the drunk.

“You’re gonna regret that, girlie” Biff said, his face red with rage. “I’m gonna –”

“Perhaps you should apologize to the young lady” said a quiet voice to his left.

Biff glared over at Yoshimo, who stood, arms akimbo, a few feet away.

“What the hell you say, runt?” Biff said, making a point of looking down his nose at the smaller man. Yoshimo merely smiled, making a point of waving away the smell of Biff’s whiskey breath.

Biff snarled and grabbed Yoshimo by the shirt. Before he could draw back his fist, Yoshimo had grasped the offending paw in his fingers. Biff cried out and winced as Yoshimo squeezed the fleshy part between his thumb and forefinger in a vise-like grip.

“Aggh, goddammit” cursed Biff. “Let me go, ya bastard!” In a rage, he grabbed for his pistol with his off hand. Yoshimo smoothly withdrew one of his own pistols and stuck it in Biff’s face. A gasp went through the crowd. Biff’s eyes grew enormous and sweat poured down his face as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

“Now, I believe you owe the young woman an apology?”

“Ah, y-yeah. I’m uh, sorry, miss Imoen. Really, REALLY sorry.”

Yoshimo looked over at Imoen, who nervously nodded her agreement.

“Okay, it’s settled now, mister” the barkeeper said. “I don’t want no killin’ here.”

Yoshimo gave the bartender a faint smile and looked down on Biff, who was cross-eyed from staring at the barrel of Yoshimo’s pistol. With a flick of his wrist, Yoshimo reversed the pistol and whacked Biff over the head with the revolver’s steel butt. The big man fell to the ground, unconscious.

“How fortunate it is that I am in no mood for killing, then.”

Yoshimo returned to his table, aware of the eyes on his back. He doubted there would be any further trouble, but he had intended to keep a low profile. From across the room, he could see his intended marks looking over at him nervously, some of them finishing their drinks and making haste for the door. The lost opportunity fouled his mood, and he chided himself.

“Heya.”

Yoshimo looked up at Imoen, who was holding a large mug of beer.

“I didn’t order that” he frowned.

“I know, it’s on the house” she replied. “Well, it’s on me, really. I just wanted to say thanks for teaching that creep a lesson.”

“I was only trying to see that my drinks were delivered” grumbled Yoshimo.

Imoen gave him a quizzical look. “Okay, then. Is there anything else ya want?”

Yoshimo looked up at her. Oh, so that is what this is about . With a sour face, he said “I am in no mood for companionship tonight. Ply your trade elsewhere, girl.”

“Ply my trade –?” Imoen sputtered. “You think I’m – just because I -? Ooooh!!!”

Imoen grabbed the beer off the table and dumped it over Yoshimo’s head. She stomped off, leaving a very surprised Yoshimo behind.

“Ah, I’m real sorry about that, mister” said the bartender, who came running over with a towel. “She’s headstrong, that one.”

Yoshimo toweled himself off, not really listening to the barkeep’s litany of apologies. He stared after where the girl had stormed off to.

After a long moment, Yoshimo found himself chuckling.



*

Nashkel, Aldeth Sashenstar’s Manor


Cap’n Aldeth, as his servants called him, was in rare form tonight.


“So I looked the tree-hugging bastard right in the eye and said ‘Nobody tells me what to hunt on my own land!”

“I daresay that told him what for” fawned one man, an ore merchant by trade. Several other guests, businessmen all, quickly added their praise.

Aldeth accepted their praise with feigned modesty. In truth, Aldeth didn’t really care what his guests thought of him. That they showed him the proper respect was what mattered. He enjoyed seeing them try to curry his favor in hopes of landing a lucrative deal with the Sashenstar trading coster.

After several hours of backslapping and tale swapping, the party at last broke up. Cap’n Aldeth saw to each guest’s departure before retiring to his study.

He sat in his favorite chair by the fireplace, enjoying the crackling flames and the snifter of brandy his butler had thoughtfully poured for him. Aldeth massaged his throbbing left leg and propped it up on a padded footstool.

“Damned gimp leg” he cursed, rubbing at the old war wound. The elf that had shot him had been quite the marksman, Cap’n Aldeth had often joked. Tonight the joke didn’t seem so funny to him.

Aldeth swallowed a bit of the brandy and began shuffling through the business proposals before him. After a time, he became aware of chilly breeze.

“What the-?” Aldeth looked over to see the glass doors to his private garden were open.

Damnit, Marketh, how many times have I told you to be sure to lock those?

Aldeth got to his feet and started to limp over to the doors. He heard a shifting noise coming from the gardens outside and stopped.

Aldeth scowled. Something was wrong here. He went over to his desk and withdrew a pistol. Gun in hand, he made his way across the room.

“Who’s out there?” he called from just inside the doors. “Whoever you are, you’d better move on.”

Silence.

Aldeth scowled again, and carefully closed the doors, making sure to draw the bolt on them. He limped back to his chair and sat down. He downed the rest of his brandy and set the pistol down, keeping it within easy reach.

Another chilly breeze.

Aldeth was out of the chair more swiftly than one would have thought possible, pistol in hand. He fired a quick shot in the direction of the doors. The bullet found only the empty night air.

A knock came at the study door. “Cap’n Aldeth?” It was the voice of Marketh, Sashenstar’s butler. “Cap’n, is everything all right?”


“Everything’s all right” replied Aldeth. “I…everything’s fine.”

“Okay, Cap’n, if you say so” Marketh said reluctantly. After a moment of dithering about, his footsteps echoed down the hall.

Aldeth took out a handkerchief and mopped the sweat from his brow. “What a crazy damned night.” He turned to close the windows yet again and saw the hulking figure in the shadows.

Aldeth brought his pistol up, but the stranger’s throwing knife sank deep into his wrist before he could fire. Sashenstar’s pistol slipped from his nerveless fingers as the figure in the shadows, and his tiny companion, stepped forth.

Cap’n Aldeth paled and managed to croak out “You? But it can’t be…” before the stranger fired two shots into his heart.