The Bowyer's Tale

What the fuck? I had no idea. Like in Savásias we'd heard about that fountain place, but it sounded just like all the wishing wells and talking trees and shit. The real one's always in the next village. But I mean, we still believed in the gods even if the priests were wrong sometimes. At least I did till what happened with the snowreader. I shrugged.

"Well there's a sorcerer-"

"No fucking way." Gods did magic, not men. Maybe we had old stories of the witch-kings or Stalanan slaying the giants and shit like that, but no one believed them.

"Yes, there is! There's one left and -ugh. Nevermind. Forget the blackguard." That was the first I heard of him. "What matters is Zhendry'll come for you next. You either fight alongside the League, Tir Lindran, Elbelé, Istvikir, the northmen, and maybe Washtan today or you fight alone before you're thirty. And it won't just be Zhendry and a few mercenary tribes then; you'll be fighting what's left of the Republics and Istvikir too."

"Tir Lindran?" I hadn't heard they were involved, but I guess they border the League too, yeah?

"Raim and Vashto," the equerry answered.

"I just came from there. I don't like King Pirthran, but at least I knew where I stood at his court."

"Where was that?" I watched her pull on her smallclothes. At least she wasn't talking sorcerers.

"One word from the dungeons for a whore like me." She sounded more tired than angry. "Pirthran's one of the men who hates women who like screwing. But clever. He sees Zhendry couldn't be stopped if they conquered the League. He pledged Tir Lindran would fight, but only if Davasan did too."

"So... you just came here to get us into the war so the Tir Lindrani would fight?"

"That's only half right." She slid on her red dress and sat back down to button it. "I also want Davasan in the war so you Davasaners will fight. This is a rich, fertile country; your armies are huge and I've heard there're no finer archers. I hope it's true. So that's what it was all about. We couldn't get half the Grandmoot to vote for war --not when lots of the ones on our side were too far west for even their envoys to get here in time- so we arranged for some of them not to vote at all."

I finally got it. I think. She came to me because I'm the kind of man the snowreader liked and she wanted me to distract him from the meeting. Asdan couldn't since he had to be there to vote for war. And the snowreader couldn't cry foul about it since he's the one who blew me instead of voting against Asdan- after lying and saying the gods were against the war. What a fucking coward. Honestly, I still didn't get how all the pieces fit. Hell, I still get confused thinking about it. Even if a lot of shit does make more sense now.

She'd laced on her boots and combed her hair while I was trying to think it through. "So. Do you hate me now?"

Sarasa stood; his huge shadow danced behind him as he paced and gestured.

I knew I should. Or I thought I knew I should? She was starting a war! This wasn't fighting slavers; lots of us were gonna go get killed fighting people we'd never heard of. Didn't that make her evil?

I guess not if Zhendry really was gonna hit us next anyway, but how could I trust her about that? Like, she'd used me, you know? Used my whole country! And there was that bullshit about a sorcerer.

But what if she actually believed that? And I guess I'd kinda used her too, you know? And she'd been fair with me. And I'd sure take the steward over the snowreader. And she hadn't just killed him or something. And she treated the servants good. And even if she sounded airy, I felt like she really cared what I thought about her then.

The lodge flashed white, then shook from the roar after the closest bolt of lightning yet. The bowyer stumbled and sat again, silent for a moment as he finally put down his well-used mug.

Arsalin backed up when I came toward her and flinched when I put my hands on her shoulders. But she didn't try to run. Or knife me. I looked down at her big, sad eyes and thought about it all again. And I said, "No. I think you're fucking hot. Just tell me what you want next time you need my help."

You ever feel a bow when you loose a perfect shot? Just feel all the strain vanish and know the arrow's gonna hit before you even see it? No? Well it was like that.

She laughed, kissed me goodbye, and walked out smiling with her stuff bundled under one arm.

I never saw Arsalin again, but I knew I was right about her even before I saw what we fought at the fords. So I don't understand what she's doing, but I trust her. And I'll help her if you can tell me how.

The tanner smirked craftily. "Were you so sure before they asked you what to name the bridge?"

Sarasa grinned. "Maybe not. I hadn't had much time to think about it though."

That last day was busy. Suddenly everyone was saying they knew there'd be war all along. And we had to gear up, start learning more Taldrish, and get the real muster started.

I didn't get my chance to look through the rest of the castle, but all that stuff is too rich for my blood anyway. I want to see the world, but I'm still a simple man, you know? Give me a girl in my arms, a bow in my hands, ale in my flagon, wind in my hair, deer in the meadows, views from the mountains, and sun in the treetops. Keep the rest and welcome to it.

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Author's Note: I love hearing from readers, so by all means leave comments or send me your feedback. If you enjoyed this story, it will eventually be continued in "The Fisherman's Tale."