The sun had burned off the morning fog, our horses had spring in their step, and we sat tall in our saddles. We had not discussed what would happen when we reached the store, but I assumed Elizabeth would inform us before reaching it. From the description the innkeeper provided, the ride was short.
It came as no surprise when the smoke from a hundred chimneys spread a pall over the buildings in the distance. Elizabeth continued riding without pause. Her back was almost as stiff as Tater’s.
As we passed a man repairing a fencepost, she pulled up and asked directions. The question seemed to upset the farmer, but he answered briefly and quickly went back to his repairs as if we had ridden on past without stopping.
My impression was the farmer was intimidated, not by Elizabeth but by the store owner in some unknown manner. However, what I knew, and the farmer didn’t, was that Elizabeth was a princess. She wielded immense power when she chose. If we survived the coming encounter, I suspected she had already made up her mind to use those powers to punish the owner of the store who accepted stolen goods in trade and threatened the locals.
I waited for her to slow and express her wishes and explain our course of action. She continued riding. Dayton was large enough to have several cross streets, paved roads, and an intersection where two large roads intersected. On one corner of that intersection stood a two-story building, the lower half constructed of tan, almost brown colored stone. It gave the appearance of solidity.
The few windows were high up on the walls, the front door massive. At one time the store must have had another purpose, but now a pair of roughly dressed men lounged near the door, their eyes on anything that moved. Intuitively, we all knew they were employees of the strong-arm variety.
Their unfriendly eyes rested on us as we approached. Just because it felt right, I suggested to the nearer one with a bit of magic that a mosquito was biting the back of his neck. As he swatted it, I grinned.
However, it was not simply a game I played. My magic might be required to help us, and that had been my test to ensure it worked on them. It also told me they were not magical beings like Stata. We pulled to a stop in front of the door.
Elizabeth climbed down and pointed to one of the pair watching her. “You there. Be a good boy and hold our horses while we go inside.”
Her tone held utter contempt and superiority. The rest of us dismounted, too. I wished for my sword or crossbow, or both.
He finally gathered enough wits about himself to growl, “I don’t hold no horses for nobody.”
“Then, what do you do? Stand there all day with your finger up your nose looking stupid?” She said it loud enough for all of us to hear, as well as two local women hurrying by. Both giggled. The guard took a step closer to Elizabeth while puffing out his chest.
A burst of small magic pushed his left foot aside his step, so it caught behind his right calf. He tripped, stumbled forward a few steps and recovered. By then she had her hand on the door and called to us, “Come quickly, we have business inside.”
We left the horses standing in the street. I wished for a spell that would keep them there but only knew how to send them into a panicked run. We’d each tied our reins to another horse, so wherever one would go, so would the others.
The inside of the store was dim, cluttered, and smelled like the underside of an old boot, combined with a damp and musty undertone. A new wagon wheel blocked the access to a pile of furs, and barrels were stacked, each clearly branded with the king’s crest for the Royal Army. I doubted if the army had sold them—or what they had once contained.
In one corner were coils of hemp string, rope, cable, and braids of leather. Nearby were pots, buckets, plates, and farm tools, not all new. Shelves held hinges, clasps, nails, and other ironwork, so there was a method and organization to the storage other than general use. A stairway near the center led to a balcony with what appeared to be offices and perhaps sleeping quarters.
At the top of the balcony stood a huge man. He was as big around as he was tall yet didn’t give the impression of being fat. He faked a smile and lumbered down the stairs as he called, “What can I sell you today, or are you doing the selling?”
Another man, a small weasel of a character stood behind a counter and observed. The innkeeper had said to watch him, not the big one.
Elizabeth moved in front of us. She extended her hand to shake and waited until he accepted it before speaking, a ploy Kendra and I knew well. She was establishing who was in charge. “Good afternoon, good sir.”
“And to you,” he smiled, trying to be gracious to the beautiful woman.
She said, “I have a small problem you can help us resolve.”
His amused smile slipped into one for bargaining. “Tell me.”
“Two days ago, we were set upon by thieves in the mountains. They stole from us and brought those things here, where you purchased them. We want them back.”
He threw his arms wide, and the smile became amused again. “It seems to me that you have a problem with your thieves, not me. Take it up with them.”
Elizabeth waited, which is usually best before cutting the knees from under an opponent. In a calm, sweet voice, she said, “We did take it up with the twelve of them. They are all dead.”
His smile slipped. “Who killed them?” His eyes swept the other three of us as if seeing us for the first time. Tater and his broken arm and bruises covering his face, Kendra looking intentionally girlish, and me without a weapon.
“You?”
“Sir, we will leave here with our belongings. You should make sure your sellers are also owners.”
It was made as a statement of fact, and concern showed in his confused expression. He stood a head taller than me, weighed twice what I did, and he had two men outside ready to rush in and join any fight. I casually turned and lowered the bar across the door. His help could enter through another door, but that would take time.
“Hey, there. You can’t do that.”
I didn’t respond.
The small man hadn’t said a word but watched all.
Elizabeth said, “There are now four of us and only one of you. Yes, your men will arrive here sooner or later when you shout for them, but if that happens, you will not be alive to see that, sir.”
His eyes swept past us. “You have no weapons.”
“And you are betting your life on what you do not see. You will lose, as did the twelve who stole from us. Do you have a list of what you purchased from two men early yesterday morning?”
He reached for a knife with a blade so long it was almost a short sword. I pulled heat from his sweating body and concentrated it on the handle. As he raised it to threaten us, his fingers reflexively opened at the intense heat, and the knife fell to the floor in a clatter of iron on wood.
He shouted, “What the hell?”
“You dropped your knife, sir,” Elizabeth said. “Now, do you have a list of our belongings, or shall we decide what to take?”
I watched the smaller man.
He’d had enough of her insolent talk. He charged her. I kicked an empty keg in front of him. He leaped over it, arms extended to grab Elizabeth, but she had already dived to one side. He spun, quick as a cat. He faced her again, in a crouch, ready to grab her before she darted away again. In his anger, he’d forgotten about us three because he stood directly in front of Tater. But faced Elizabeth and ignored him. Tater’s hand held an iron hinge suitable for a large gate, a hinge as long as my forearm.
He didn’t hesitate. Tater slashed it across the back of the storekeeper’s head. The big man crumpled. Elizabeth looked at me briefly. “Tie him up, please.”