The city was filthy, but Jeb already knew that. He had seen Raul’s back at one point but decided to let the man be alone. It took Jeb a while to get over this whole “training” thing. He was blind to the city, except for the smell and the immediate dirty urchin running by. Those were hard to miss.

  But as his mood improved and he started looking at things, he began to see more. And all was not well. He’d given the order to his A.I. to not report anything except danger, which it had only done once, and the mugger was easily avoided.

  No, this city was not well. It wasn’t just physically dirty. There was a tone to it, like a music vid with a bad band and an ugly melody. He felt more and more repulsed by it. He almost decided to go back to the inn several times.

  Eventually, he found himself in front of that tall, massive palace—well, the gates. The palace was still several hundred feet beyond the gates. The guards wore black armor and long swords, with helms that covered their faces.

  How could they stand the heat in those things? Black and in this sunlight, he thought to himself.

  Rhetorical question? Jeebz asked.

  Yeah. I guess so, Jeb replied, shaking his head and continuing on. He followed the wall around the palace until he came to an alley with a small tavern built into one of the walls. The entrance to the tavern was just that, a hole in an otherwise normal wall of mortar and stone. Inside, there was laughter and candlelight. The sun was edging over the horizon and would soon be dark.

  Checking his sword, making sure the makeshift cover was blocking any glimmer—something he’d made after his last experience of being in a town and the locals wanting his priceless artifact—he entered the tavern, ducking through the hole.

  Inside were several small groups of people: women, men, and a few kids running around. The barmaids, the two of them, were bustling between the groups with trays of food and drink. A man in a corner was playing some instrument, a stick with strings attached to some kind of bowl in the middle. It wasn’t a synth, but it was pleasant enough.

  “Wherever you like, dear. I’ll be right with you,” one of the barmaids said as she passed by, off serving other patrons.

  Jeb found a table in a corner near the window next to the “door,” a position where he could watch the opening. A few minutes later, the barmaid was back.

  “What do you want?” She was a younger lady, not heavyset but not a twig. Her hair was twirled down around the left side of her face, the rest in a bun atop her head. Her smile was inviting. It was her eyes that caught him. She had big, beautiful brown eyes. Odd he would think that. But they were. Large and beautiful, but sad too.

  After a moment that was longer than expected, he cleared his throat. “Actually, sorry. I don’t have coin at the moment. I was just walking and saw this place. I have been walking for hours. I just wanted a place to sit.” He smiled back at her. “I don’t suppose water is free?”

  She squinted her big beautiful eyes at him, gauging him. “A man with a sword, dressed as you, with no coin?” She clearly didn’t believe him.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go.” But right then, trouble entered the room. Three guards and a small man who appeared to have a face that was almost sunken in on itself. He was covered in what would pass for rich men’s clothing, but they were dirty, much like the rest of the population in this city. His long beak of a nose pointed along with his finger, right at the barmaid.

  Her gasp alerted him to further trouble. She whispered a prayer to some deity he did not recognize and began to back away, but it was too late. The guards were already walking this way.

  Jeb glanced back at the man and then at the three guards, each wearing heavy armor and helms, with long swords strapped to their hilts.

  FUCK! Jeb exclaimed into his head.

  Indeed, Jeebz replied.

  Do I have to get involved? he asked.

  No, Jeebz answered. In fact, I recommend against it.

  But Jeb knew it was too late. As soon as she’d looked at him with those big brown eyes, he’d known it was too late.

  The guards were closing in on his table, the lady had backed further away. He made his chair shift as though to get out of the way, but it was really to give his arm and sword room. Just before the first guard, the one in the front of the other two in wedge formation, Jeb slid his blade clean out and clean through the first guard’s head, straight through armor and bone. The motion was so smooth the two guards behind actually stepped into the flailing man’s body and tripped, their heavy armor carrying their momentum forward and down.

  Jeb’s eyes flicked to the lady who stood there stunned, looking at the dead man on the ground. The squeak made his eyes flick the other way, and the dirty, shriveled man had fled out the hole.

  Two quick motions and the guards on the ground stopped moving. Jeb eyed their armor and weapons, then noticed three small bags attached to their belts, just under some armor. He snatched them up, felt the coin inside, and then looked at the lady.

  “Not guards. Assassins dressed as guards.” He watched her reaction and then recognition lit her face. She looked at the bags of coin, then to the men, and back to Jeb.

  “And you are not?” she asked. The room was silent. The music had stopped. If he strained, he was sure he could hear the rapid beat of many people’s hearts without any attunement to his hearing with Jeebz’s help.

  “No. Just a man. In the wrong place, at the wrong time. As usual.” He hefted the coin. Significant amount for a barmaid. “I think you should come with me. At least for now. It’s not safe here.” He said, wiping the little blood on his sword on the cape of the top guard.

  She nodded in agreement, unwrapped her apron from her waist, and left it on the table next to her—in a patron’s plate of food, who hadn’t noticed it yet. He was still stiff from fright, the men on the floor, and the scary man with the sword on his hip.

  They both quietly left through the hole and began to walk quickly down a nearby alley. Twisting and turning, they found themselves on another street a ways away from the tavern.

  “I’m Jeb, by the way,” he said as he glanced down the street, trying to get his bearings. Okay Jeebz, you can start operating normally now.

  You are approximately one mile from the tavern. Left forty paces, then right down the small street. Will update you as we go along, Jeebz began triangulating their position based on memory of previous positions.

  “Sarla,” she said, rubbing her arms. The dark had come, and with it, the cold. “Where are we going?”

  “To safety, I hope. I have a room—well, kinda. Anyway, we have friends there,” he said. He indicated the direction they were to go and began walking at an even pace.

  Some guards walked across the hard-packed dirt but did not see them.

  “Why were those guards after you, or at least that little weasel of a man?” he asked as they turned the next corner at Jeebz's direction.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  She didn’t answer at first, as though she was forming a story or plot. “I ran away.”

  “From what?” he asked, turning the next corner.

  “I was to be betrothed.” It seemed hard for her to say.

  “And so, you chose not to, and now they have assassins after you?” He wasn’t sure he fully believed this story.

  She eyed him. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

  He shook his head as they passed another alley, half his attention on her, the other half on his surroundings. “Pretty far, actually. I’ve been traveling for almost two months now, from the south and west.”

  She frowned at that. “There’s nothing but sand that way.”

  “You’re telling me.” Some guards stepped into the road almost right in front of them. They looked like they were looking for someone. He casually angled away while grabbing her hand and went into the storefront right next to him.

  It was a bridal store. How ironic, he thought to himself.

  Sarla flinched once she recognized the theme of the store. She eyed him suspiciously.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not like that.” He looked around and saw many rings, dresses, and flowers, all on display. “Guards were looking for someone right in front of us,” he whispered to her as they looked at some flowers.

  She nodded her head and then leaned over and smelled the plant and its petals. She seemed to smile at its scent.

  What is that strange sensation? he asked himself.

  Your hormones seem to be malfunctioning, Jeebz said. One moment. Jeb could feel a heat build-up, and then a few moments later, it began to abate. There, should be balanced now.

  “I don’t think this was the store he was talking about,” Jeb said to Sarla, just loud enough for the shopkeeper, who was coming up front, to hear. With slumped shoulders, the keeper turned and headed back to her chair. Sorry, lady, wasn’t trying to get your hopes up.

  They left the shop and stood on the front step. There were no guards in sight. How much further, Jeebz?

  Approximately twenty minutes at this rate. Five if you run. But I doubt she could keep up, Jeebz reported back.

  Fine, keep us going.

  Twenty minutes later, they came through the front door of the tavern where he’d left the monk. Raul was sitting at a table, a plate of food under a knife and fork, and a mug of some kind of dark drink. He had a big grin on his face. The barmaid didn’t seem all that thrilled.

  “Jeb! You’re back!” He began to stand, but Jeb motioned him quickly to remain seated. His smile faded as he placed his weight back into the chair. “What’s wrong?” he asked as Jeb began to sit, with the door in clear view.

  “Trouble, as usual,” Jeb said. The lady sat next to him, quiet, eyes darting around.

  Raul glanced at Jeb’s sword and saw that it was still there. “No, not that.” Then he thought about it. “Well, kind of that.”

  He quickly explained what happened. Raul’s eyes seemed comfortable with the dead but glanced at the girl when the part about her leaving was brought up. He was clearly surprised.

  “Why? What?” Jeb asked.

  “I keep forgetting you are not from this area,” Raul said. “I used to be from here, at least a few towns over, not far.” He clicked his tongue. “I’m sorry, lady.” She shrugged. “It’s a crime to abandon a betrothal. Severe penalty.”

  “What penalty? Crime?” Jeb asked them.

  The lady seemed to slump as though she’d been caught. She began to weep and leaned down onto the table, arms folded under her head so she could cry into her small cavern of arms.

  Jeb was a bit shaken. “Okay. So, it’s a crime? Penalty severe. So what? So, I committed a crime by stopping justice for a crime already committed?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” Raul said, the last bit of food on a fork going into his mouth.

  Jeb looked at the girl for a moment. “Why?”

  She looked up at him. “Why?”

  “What are you? A record player?” The comment slipped out. They probably did not have record players. The look on her face indicated as much. She mouthed “Record Player” and it felt weird in her mouth. “Yeah, why did you abandon the betrothal?”

  “Oh.” She seemed to get a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden.

  “Excuse me. I beg your pardon, but your master asked to have you sent up to his rooms. All three of you,” the barmaid interjected.

  With a glance and a shrug, Raul stood and then so did Jeb. Sarla was last to stand. “Well, I get you don’t want to explain. But you’ll have to. I’m sorry. But I just… did what I did. I think I deserve an answer.” Jeb held her arm gently and guided her up the stairs in the back of the tavern.

  He could feel her let him guide her. Soon they were at the monk’s room. “Come, come,” a voice came from the other side.

  What does he have, infrared vision or something? he grumbled to himself.

  Unlikely, Jeebz replied.

  It was rhetorical, Jeebz.

  Jeb opened the door and ushered everyone in first. With a quick glance down the stairs, stopping to listen for any heavy armor entering the inn downstairs, he decided it was safe and closed the door behind him.

  “Good! Excellent. You are here, and with company. Most welcome, my lady,” the monk addressed them all with a smiling glance at each in turn.

  “Now, first. What did you discover?” He was looking at Jeb, who in turn looked at Sarla.

  “I’m not quite sure.” He looked back at the monk. “I will find out soon enough.”

  The monk waved her away. “No, not that. Everything else. What did you see?” he said with a slight emphasis.

  Jeb rubbed the back of his head where his hair was tied into a ponytail. “Well. It’s dirty. People are unhealthy. And sad. Most of them are sad. Sad or scared.”

  “Uh-huh, go on.” He egged Jeb on.

  “I don’t know what else to tell you,” Jeb said with a sigh.

  “Not your conclusions or your assumptions. Just tell me what you saw, nothing more.” He seemed to sit back on his bed, comfortable, calm, serene.

  “I saw children with dirty faces. Gaunt and frail. I saw women crying and dead men in the alleys.” As he began to recount his walk, he began to pick up more and more detail. Little nuances that he had taken for granted. Just random data that was not yet analyzed, could not be analyzed until compared with another piece of data, comparable data. “The guards. The guards wear black armor, but I can’t see their faces. Their height is all the exact same. The sound they make when they walk is muffled.” And then it dawned on him. It wasn’t until after dark that what he had seen really registered. Oh, it was there now during the day as well, now that he knew what to look for. “Light seems to dim around the guards.” Yes, the torchlight on the corner next to the guards that walked right in front of them at the bridal store. The light seemed to not touch them the same, like they were in a very slight blur in a picture from a camera. Dimmed down.

  “Good.” The monk was clearly pleased. “Good. Now, I can tell you about this lady here.” He looked over at her, his smile pleasant. “She was to be married to the regent of this area. The palace was to be her home.”

  Sarla flinched at the mention of the marriage and the palace. Jeb eyed her, scrutinizing every detail. But all he could see were her eyes. And her sadness.

  “Raul was out looking for things as well.” Raul’s head came up when he was mentioned.

  “Oh, yeah. Here you go.” He pulled a small tethered sack from his larger shoulder bag. “I hope it’s right.” He gave it to the monk.

  “Thank you.” The monk began to pluck the strings open that tied the sack shut. He pulled out clothes. “This should help you fit in better.” He handed them to Jeb.

  Jeb stared at the clothes and then down at his own. There was blood on his. The spray was not avoidable.

  “I can wash mine,” he said.

  “As you wish. But you stand out like a flare.” There was a slip from the monk; he’d almost said solar flare. “Not only will you be recognized by,” he pointed, “that, but you need to merge yourself into society. Being an outsider, not allowing yourself to be part of the group will keep you from perceiving everything.”

  Jeb took the clothes.

  “Now, for the rest of the story. Yes, it’s ‘illegal’ to abandon a marriage.” The first scorn he’d heard pass through the monk’s lips. “But I believe she can tell you more.”

  Sarla notably stiffened. She didn’t move her head, but her eyes darted to the door. “Raul, the door, please,” Jeb gently commanded. Raul stood and leaned on the door. The room was small, not far for Raul.

  Jeb turned his full attention to the would-be bride. “I think it’s time now,” he said, gentler than he thought he had in him.

  She slumped again. “I ran away.” She looked at the door, but there was no energy in it. “I ran away because they were going to sacrifice me. So I stabbed the priest and fled.”

  Jeb, being who he was, found this absolutely preposterous and began to laugh.

  Sarla looked up at him, fire in her eyes. “What is so funny?”

  It took a moment. “It’s illegal to flee from being sacrificed?” The words left quivering lips. He couldn’t retain the absurdity of it.

  “The religion here is quite serious. It’s worse than a flesh crime. It’s a crime against God.” Raul seemed to be mildly upset. Sarla glanced at him and bowed her head away.

  The monk seemed to take all this in without any reaction whatsoever.

  After a moment, Jeb composed himself. “Okay. Sorry.” He looked around the room. Everyone was staring at him, Sarla’s head still bowed, looking through her hair. “Okay, fine. I don’t come from a religious place. So, I am not used to this.”

  Sacrifice for a god? What are they thinking! It’s backwards, inverted. Hell, it’s PERVERTED, Jeb thought to himself.

  Some primitive cultures have deities. All responsibility is laid at the ‘creator’s’ feet. There are records of these. Few. But they exist, Jeebz replied.

  “Be that as it may. The girl fled,” Raul said quietly.

  “From being sacrificed. Yes. We know,” Jeb said bitterly. More defensive than he should have. “Sorry.” He looked over at the monk.

  “I believe we have our in,” the monk said, looking at the girl.

  “Huh? Who, me?” She squeaked. “What do you mean?”

  “I believe that this has been going on too long.” He looked back at Jeb. “What do you think about this, Jeb?”

  Jeb met his eyes and it began to dawn on him that this monk was more, far more than he knew. All the little things he’d said and done seemed to really form into a concept of who this being was. A dangerous one.

  The monk continued to smile serenely, eyes flickering in the candlelight.

  Oh yes. Dangerous.

  Indeed, replied Jeebz.