The Hidden City

always seem to know about everything that’s going on around you. When we were on that log-boom, you knew instantly when there was the slightest change in the way it was moving.’
    ‘It’s called “paying attention”, my Lord. The world around you is screaming at you all the time, but most people can’t seem to hear it. That really baffles me. I can’t understand how you can miss so many things.’
    Berit was just slightly offended by that. ‘All right, what’s the world screaming at you right now that I can’t hear?’
    ‘It’s telling me that we’re going to need some fairly substantial shelter tonight. We’ve got bad weather coming.’
    ‘How did you arrive at that?’
    Khalad pointed. ‘You see those seagulls?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes. What’s that got to do with it?’
    Khalad sighed. ‘What do seagulls eat, my Lord?’
    ‘Just about everything—fish mostly, I suppose.’
    ‘Then why are they flying inland? They aren’t going to find very many fish on dry land, are they? They’ve seen something they don’t like out there in the gulf and they’re running away from it. Just about the only thing that frightens a seagull is wind—and the high seas that go with it. There’s a storm out to sea, and it’s coming this way. That’s what the world’s screaming at me right now.’
    ‘It’s just common sense then, isn’t it?’
    ‘Most things are, Sparhawk—common sense and experience.’ Khalad smiled slightly. ‘I can still feel Krager’s Styric out there watching us. If he isn’t paying any more attention than you were just now, he’s probably going to spend a very miserable night.’
    Berit grinned just a bit viciously. ‘Somehow that information fails to disquiet me,’ he said.
    It was more than a village, but not quite a town. It had three streets, for one thing, and at least six buildings of more than one story, for another. The streets were muddy, and pigs roamed freely. The buildings were made primarily of wood and they were roofed with thatch. There was an inn on what purported to be the main street. It was a substantial-looking building, and there were a pair of rickety wagons with dispirited mules in their traces out front.
    Ulath reined in the weary old horse he had bought in the fishing village. ‘What do you think?’ he said to his friend.
    ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ Tynian replied.
    ‘Let’s go ahead and take a room as well,’ Ulath suggested. ‘The afternoon’s wearing on anyway, and I’m getting tired of sleeping on the ground. Besides, I’m a little overdue for a bath.’
    Tynian looked toward the starkly outlined peaks of the Tamul Mountains lying some leagues to the west. ‘I’d really hate to keep the Trolls waiting, Ulath,’ he said with mock seriousness.
    ‘It’s not as if we had a definite appointment with them. Trolls wouldn’t notice anyway. They’ve got a very imprecise notion of time.’
    They rode on into the innyard, tied their horses to a rail outside the stable and went on into the inn.
    ‘We need a room,’ Ulath told the innkeeper in heavily accented Tamul.
    The innkeeper was a small, furtive-looking man. He gave them a quick, appraising glance, noting the bits and pieces of army uniform that made up most of their dress. His expression hardened with distaste. Soldiers are frequently unwelcome in rural communities for any number of very good reasons. ‘Well,’ he replied in a whining, sing-song sort of voice, ‘I don’t know. It’s our busy season—’
    ‘Late autumn?’ Tynian broke in skeptically. ‘That’s your busy season?’
    ‘Well—there are all the wagoneers who can come by at any time, you know.’
    Ulath looked beyond the innkeeper’s shoulder into the low, smoky taproom. ‘I count three,’ he said flatly.
    ‘There are bound to be more along shortly,’ the fellow replied just a bit too quickly.
    ‘Of course there are,’ Tynian said sarcastically. ‘But we’re here now, and we’ve got money. Are you going to gamble a sure thing against the remote possibility that some wagon might stop here along about midnight?’
    ‘He doesn’t want to do business with a couple of pensioned-off veterans, Corporal,’ Ulath said. ‘Let’s go talk with the local commissioner. I’m sure he’ll be very interested in the way this fellow treats his Imperial Majesty’s soldiers.’
    ‘I’m his Imperial Majesty’s loyal subject,’ the innkeeper said quickly ‘and I’ll be honored to have brave veterans of his