Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

own Dezrel, and I figured you just another…”
    “That’s fine,” Laurie said, interrupting him. “What is your name, soldier?”
    “Jess. Jess Brown, milord.”
    “Well, Jess, before I bring my convoy through the gate, I’d like to know what is going on. I take it there is some sort of tax or toll?”
    “There is,” Jess said, glancing once at Torgar. “Though you might not like it. King Vaelor, Ashhur bless his name, passed the laws not two days ago. There’s some fines involving mercenaries, which you’ll learn about soon enough. The short of it is taxes, though, on all goods and services traveling into the city.”
    “On
all
goods?” asked Laurie. He grabbed his long green cloak and wrapped it tighter around his shoulders, as if a bit of his heat had escaped him. “What nonsense. Tell me the taxes.”
    Jess did. As he ran through a memorized list, Laurie’s face turned darker and darker. Torgar could see him mentally counting with the mention of each item of food and clothing, each servant and animal. By the time Jess was done, Laurie’s neck had turned a deep crimson. Even Torgar could tell that such taxes would amount to a small fortune.
    “All this just to enter?” Laurie asked, his quiet voice poorly hiding his anger.
    “Forgive me, milord,” said Jess. “Gerand Crold has been most insistent about enforcement. He’s ordered any man caught turning a blind eye or accepting a bribe to be strung up from the wall by his thumbs and left to the ravens.”
    “I can’t blame you for your orders, nor for enforcing them with such threats hanging over your head,” Laurie said. He took out a single silver coin and handed it to Torgar, who then passed it on to the soldier.
    “Thank you, milord. You are most generous.”
    “And thank you for your time,” Laurie said. With a quick nod to Torgar, the two pushed their way out of the crowd and back to their horses.
    “The thieves must have gotten to the king,” Laurie said as he mounted his horse. “Either that or his advisor, Crold.”
    “More likely the advisor,” Torgar said. “He’s been around awhile, if my meager memory serves me well. How many kings has he seen die? Probably views himself as one. Might not be the thieves involved either, just greedy hearts knowing you was coming.”
    As they rode back toward their caravan, Torgar raised an eyebrow at his master.
    “So … how much did it all come to, anyway?”
    “Twenty times the normal fare,” Laurie said with a sigh. “I know you’re not the best with big numbers, so let me keep it simple. I’d be paying an entire month’s worth of income just to walk through their bloody gate.”
    “Huh,” Torgar said, guiding his horse around a giant rut in the road. “Almost makes you think twice about entering, eh?”
    Laurie stopped his horse. Torgar slowed his own and then looped around, his hand on his sword.
    “Something amiss?” he asked.
    “Nothing,” Laurie said. “But what you said, it might make a bit of sense. Look there, at the two hills we just rode beside. Couldn’t we set up camp on their peaks?”
    Torgar scratched the stubble on his jaw, thinking.
    “Could put yours and Madelyn’s things on the big hill, surround the lower parts with the wagons so it’ll be easier to guard. Wouldn’t be too tough to put our men in the gaps. That smaller hill could be for your servants and soldiers, ring the lower parts with tents and then build fires at the top.”
    “Could you guard it as well as you could our estate?” Laurie asked.
    “As well?” Torgar asked. “Course not. Your mansion’s got spiked fences and more traps than even I know about. Out here we’ll have men and wagons. Wagons can be climbed, burned, and cut through. Men can be bought, confused, and killed. But if you’re asking if you think anything could happen out here, I say no. With as many men as we’ll have ringing the camp, you’ll be safer than the king.”
    “Come then,” Laurie said. “Let us tell my wife and son.”
    With its master gone to the gates, the rest of the caravan slowed its approach, which Madelyn Keenan was greatly thankful for. She sat in the back of the largest of the covered wagons, which was pulled by six gray oxen. Far too quickly, though, her husband returned, his vulgar sellsword captain at his side. The two followed after her wagon so they might talk.
    “How did things fare at the gate?” Madelyn Keenan asked from her cushioned seat. She wore what she considered