Fires of Prophecy_ Book Two of the Morcyth Saga - Brian Pratt [60]
“I assume you wanted whatever it is that we’ve been smelling?” Roland asks him once the server had left.
“Absolutely,” James replies.
“Good, that’s what I did,” he says.
They sit back and relax while they wait for their food to arrive. The people here, aside from their different language and attire, are really the same as those he encountered back in Cardri. Just people. People are people no matter where you go, that’s what his grandmother had always said.
He sees their server coming toward them with two plates, topped with several skewers containing meat and vegetables along with two mugs. As their server places the plates in front of them, he can still hear sizzle coming from the meats. Once the mugs are on the table, their server says something and Roland gives him a reply before going over to another table with two gentlemen.
Keeping his voice low, Roland says, “You guys don’t seem much like merchants to me.”
James looks at him with a mouth full of food and doesn’t reply.
“What is a,” lowering his voice to a whisper, he asks, “mage, doing running a caravan?”
“It’s rather complicated,” James replies and then takes another bite.
“I think I have the right to know what is going on,” he asserts quietly. “If for no other reason than I’ve brought my wife and child along. I mean, you guys take out a Commander of Ten like he was nothing!”
James glances around but no one seems to care about their conversation. Turning back to Roland he says, “We’re looking for someone.”
“Who?” Roland asks.
“A friend of mine who was taken captive at the fall of the City of Light,” he explains in a hushed tone. “As well as Jiron’s sister, who was taken at the same time.”
“How?” he asks, incredulously.
“We’ve reason to believe they’re being taken to the slave markets at Korazan,” he explains. “We mean to go there and find them, buy them if possible, rescue them if not.”
Roland sits back in his chair and just stares at James, as if he is unsure if he actually just heard what he did.
“You’re welcome to leave at any time if you think it’s too dangerous for your family,” James tells him.
“I don’t know,” he replies. He continues to eat, thinking about what James told him.
“A man back where we rescued you said that you made things?” James asks him.
Blushing slightly, Roland says, “Nothing, really.”
“What?” he asks again.
“Well, I had this idea that if you filled a bag with hot air, you can make it float,” he explains then sets himself as if he expects to be ridiculed.
“You would probably need an air tight bag of little weight,” James suggests.
Surprised at someone finally taking him seriously, Roland says, “Exactly! But I haven’t been able to find anyone able to make what I would require. All the cloth I’ve been able to afford has been too heavy.”
“That could be a problem,” James agrees. “What do you hope to do with it?”
“Do?” Roland asks as if the question had never even occurred to him.
“Yeah, do,” he says.
“I’ve never really thought past getting it done, actually” he admits.
“I’m sure you could come up with something,” James says hopefully. Could think of several applications, mostly military ones in this society, he muses to himself.
Finishing the last bite of his meal, James sits back in his chair, stomach gurgling most contentedly. Once Roland is done, they leave the inn and head over to where they’ve been told they can acquire some barrels and possibly a wagon.
They come to a building with an adjacent large open courtyard containing wagons, barrels and several other various items constructed of wood. A sign outside the door shows a wagon with two barrels.
“This must be the place,” James says to Roland.
“Looks like it,” he agrees as they go up three steps and open the door.
They enter a fair sized room, with dozens of barrels of varying sizes stacked against the walls. A man is busily stacking small buckets upon a table and turns around to greet them when he hears the door open. He