Crusade - James Lowder [43]
"Tell your master that this is the finest bread I have," Azoun heard the baker tell a young serving girl who'd come to pick up part of her master's evening meal. The girl smiled as if she'd made a special deal with the merchant, then ran off. In a few minutes, another girl in the low-cut blouse of a serving wench came to the shop. The baker told her the same thing he'd told the last customer.
Across the narrow, rocky street from the bakery, a weapons crafter kept shop. At the same time the second serving girl was passing by him, the king watched as a small, even scrawny man stormed up to the smith across the way and unwrapped a sword.
"This weapon isn't balanced correctly!" the man bellowed. "I was guarding a caravan in the Stonelands. When we got attacked by goblins, I used the sword and nearly cut off my own leg!"
When the weaponsmith didn't reply, the warrior smashed the heavy pommel of the claymore against the store's weather-beaten counter.
The dark-skinned crafter looked up at last, contempt in his eyes. "I warned you when you bought it, Yugar. That sword's just too damn heavy for you to wield correctly."
"Ha!" the overzealous warrior cried, snatching up the monstrous twohanded sword again. "I can use any weapon that'll fit in my hand. I'm Yugar the Brave!" He said the last as if it should mean something to anyone who heard it. No one passing by so much as took a second glance at the young braggart.
The smith dropped the whetstone he was using to sharpen a tiny, jewelhandled dagger and stepped out of the shop. He grabbed Yugar's arm and wrested the claymore from his grasp. "If you're so brave, why aren't you signing on for the crusade?"
Without pausing, Yugar picked up a slightly smaller sword from the smith's display-rather awkwardly, Azoun thought-and said, "I am… I think. I've heard there's good money to be had if I sign on as a mercenary."
The king winced. Traveling through the city, he'd heard many people discussing the crusade. Most of the merchants were complaining about the new taxes that were being levied to defray the cost of the expedition. Azoun had heard only two craftsmen talking about the crusade with any enthusiasm.
However, one of these men was an armorer, the other a weaponsmith. They had far too much to gain from a war to be considered fair representatives of the people.
The king had also overheard many warriors like Yugar, hungry only for money, and a few who only wanted adventure. Still, the guards and churches had reported early that day that over a thousand people had already signed on for the crusade. Azoun had spent much of the morning dispatching letters to the various nobles who had promised armies, asking them to gather in Suzail as soon as possible. The crusade was, without a doubt, going to become a reality very shortly.
Despite this, the trapper's attack still plagued the king. And before he could leave Filfaeril in command of Cormyr, he needed to know that he went with his subjects' blessing. Few people seemed willing to talk about the guilds in detail, though the assassination attempt was the subject of much idle speculation.
Azoun hoped that the adventurers and guildsmen who frequented the same tavern would prove a greater source of information about the Trappers' Guild and public sentiment about the crusade than the merchants he had encountered so far. At the very least, a visit to the Black Rat would provide an excellent escape from the court, if only for one night. He had, after all, frequented the Black Rat in his days with the King's Men.
As the king was remembering a few of those happy hours, the baker came out of his shop, scowled at the loiterer again, and slammed the awning closed. Azoun took the hint and headed for the docks.
By the time the king got to the tavern, the sun had set and a bright moon hung over the city. The air was very chill, and Azoun could see his breath as he hurried along. Occasionally a lantern or candle flickered in an open