Roar - A Wardstone Short Story

“Well, even though I can’t tell you, maybe you could watch me. Well... No, I swore not to reveal who the wager is on, so letting you watch me is breaking my word too. I’m no oath breaker.”

“But if I watched you without you knowing?” the trader grinned.

“Bah, Bolly Heath, just have the man place a wager for us,” the woman said as if the both of them were daft. “You’d bet a few coins for us wouldn’t you, sir?”

Loudin couldn’t believe his luck. Not the good luck he was having with these traders, but the bad luck being carried up the road toward him. If he stayed where he was, he’d probably be killed right there. At the very least, these good folk would want no more of him, not after Overlord Perrywyne reminded him of the sizable debt he still owed. If he could just avoid a conflict right here and now he might be able to make enough to clear his debt with Perrywyne, and settle the rest of what he owed as well.

He decided that he needed to go, and excused himself, almost rudely. “I’m late, it just slipped my mind,” Loudin feigned worry over displeasing someone as he turned his horse and shook his head. “I just have to tell her it slipped my mind. I’ll catch up to you on the morrow, Bolly Heath, I will.” He heeled his horse a heartbeat too late to avoid being seen by the large, opulently clad lord. Fortunately, one of the eight slaves carrying his divan stumbled, causing the fat slaver to whip his head around before he could recognize Loudin.

“We’ll be lookin’ for ya,’” the woman called as Bolly urged his horses back underway.

Loudin gave a wave and hurried to get across the road.

***

Overlord Perrywyne didn’t see Loudin Drake, but one of his men did. Loudin, didn’t run, but he did get himself, and the coming confrontation well away from the tinker trader’s wagon.

“STOP!” the Underlord called. Loudin didn’t feel he had a choice. The Underlord had two ornately decorated guards with him. They were wearing cleverly braided leather armor, and holding loaded crossbows. “I’ll have you shafted in the street, man.”

“I was hoping to run into M’Lord Perrywyne at the festival,” Loudin said, turning his horse and grinning. He gave the man a confident, knowing look. “After the Brawl,” he added.

“Ahhh, you’re betting on Ungol then? Who do you favor?” The Underlord was as eager as any wagering man to know what another thought on the Brawl.

“Ungol?” Loudin asked. “From O’Dakahn?” He’d seen the brute bash a few men in the pits there. He was a scrapper, but nothing like the Valleyan Stallion. Not even close.

“In fact, no,” Loudin chuckled as if betting on the pit fighter would be absurd. “I’d bet all I owe Perrywyne, against thrice that amount, that Ungol doesn’t even get to the actual Brawl.”

“Ungol doesn’t have to win the Brawl, just get there, to win your coin?” the Underlord asked.

“Yup,” Loudin regretted agreeing, because this man was about to make the bet for his lord, and Ungol had a fair chance of meeting the Valleyan in the final fighting event. The words were said though, and even though he had no idea where he would come up with four hundred gold pieces if he lost, he felt it was a good wager. It wasn’t like he could come up with the hundred he owed already.

“If you lose, and do not pay, Overlord Perrywyne will pay whatever it takes to have you captured. After that, we will work the full amount, plus the cost of your collection, and interest out of you in the pits. Is that clear?”

“It’s clear,” Loudin growled. “Now I have business to tend so that we might avoid such an outcome. Good day.”

“See you at the festival, Mister Drake,” the Underlord said. “Make certain we do.”