The Bear Star was settled at the top of the hill beside the main road leading inland and overlooking the harbor. Only the lighthouse stood on higher ground. The common room included a deck and large windows facing south out to sea to take advantage of the impressive view. Further inland on the premises, the stables and wagon house even dwarfed the inn, itself not small.
In short, this handsome establishment was one of, if not the, finest of its kind in Fairbanks. Able ran his fingers around his purse as though he didn't already know how many were in there. He stopped himself, pulled his hand from his pocket, and took a deep breath. At least take a look inside and ask. He'd be getting twelve cees tomorrow, so one night here could be manageable.
Inside, the ale was already flowing. About twenty men had gathered at the tables near the windows laughing about something while watching the sun set. A smaller group of women clustered around one table in a corner with their heads close together to hear each other over the ruckus. Able caught himself staring before he'd been at it too long, hopefully. Men and women didn't share the same public spaces like this in Blueport.
Able could smell but not see any food, so dinner must be forthcoming. He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder then made his way over to the solid wood counter, where he found a charming copper bell and rang it.
"Be right there!" or something similar to that came muffled from behind the door.
Able ran a finger over the grains in the shiny wooden counter, found it smooth as tile, and wondered at the material. He set his bag down and focused on the conversation behind him. It seemed that most of the men were wagoneers chatting about the state of the roads.
Soon enough a young woman came through a side door and hurried over while wiping her hands on her apron. Her dress fell to a modest ankle-length, while her eye-catching golden hair was pinned up in a way that accentuated her long neck.
This inn girl explained to him that not only were the rooms fifteen cees for a night, nearly half less than expected, but the price would be further reduced if he booked multiple nights at a time. He was left floored and awkwardly staving off the girl's apologies that the price didn't include meals. To keep his plans open, he asked for only the single night and was pleased they had a room with an east-facing window available. He signed in the book where she pointed and then she handed him a key with a "3" on it.
"Dinner should be served in twenty minutes," she informed, closing her book. "Would you like me to show you to your room?"
"Sure," Able agreed and tried to think of questions he might ask her as he followed her up the stairs.
She beat him to it. "So what're you here for, Larbander?"
"I...is my accent really thick or something? You're not the first to know right away."
"It's not...thin." She raised a dubious eyebrow at him.
"All right, then, what do you mean by that?"
"You're as brown as a beechnut." Both eyebrows were up now.
Able glanced down at his hand. Was this a local expression? "What's a beechnut?"
"It's...it's a nut? From a beech tree?"
"That is brown?" Able mimicked her upward inflection then chuckled to let it go. Most mainland peoples still looked much the same as they had in their historic kingdoms before the present age of shipping empires, but populations in the ports had since begun to look much the same one to another. Strange that this port would still have that much distinction.
"First time in Fairbanks, yeah?" The inn girl was not hiding her smile very well if that's what she was trying to do.
"First time in all of Borealund, actually."
She nodded like she expected that. "I hope you didn't come looking for work in Adeptsby," she remarked as she stopped at a door with a helpful "3" on it and gestured to it. "Seen many turned away disappointed. They've got so many indentured men working up there that they don't need to hire free men."
"Well, I'm not looking for employment." Able found the key opened a charming, cozy room with a full bed and area rug under it, a dresser, and washstand that would have easily run twenty-five cees back in Blueport, if not more. He belatedly added, attempting to be charming himself, "not from the count, least-aways."
Her eyebrow quirked, and her smile seemed warmer. "What's your trade, then?"
"Scholar and writer, actually," he replied as he set his things on the bed. "I've come to Fairbanks to chronicle your recent happenings."
"Huhn." The inn girl set a hand on her hip and looked him up and down.
Oh...was she interested? Able tried to remain cool, but his track record with impressing girls was abysmal. In fact, already there was an awkward pause underway.
But she ended it. "So, when you say 'recent happenings'...?"
"All this stuff about the Shadow Warrior. It'd make a pretty good story, don't you think?"
"You should talk to Lackaday...forget his real name, everyone just calls him Lackaday. Scraggly gray-haired fellow. I'll point him out to you. He saw the Shadow in person. Hasn't been the same guy since. Pretty soon we might not call him Lackaday anymore."
"He's downstairs?"
"Yeah."
"I'm going to bring my notebook, then."
Dinner was being served, so Able had to wait until people were seated and eating to try to get close to Lackaday, as he was one boisterous wagoneer surrounded by many more. It was simple fare and subpar at that with the ale being watered, the stew thin, and the bread flat. Actually—the bread was tasty, especially once it soaked up the stew. Perhaps the Borealunders habitually made do without yeast, instead of it being in shortage.
The discussions had, perhaps because of Able's brown-skinned presence, shifted from the roads and weather to heated accounts of town members who had recently been arrested on suspicions of aiding the Resistance. It seemed that Nightwatch's secretary wasn't the only public figure to have been rounded up. Able was therefore nervous when he took the opportunity to approach Lackaday about his encounter with the Shadow Warrior.
The tone of the room shifted immediately with other folks second and thirding Able's request. He found himself crowded in by eager Fairbanks residents and travelers alike. This might have eased his own mood had they not all towered overhead. He'd never thought of himself as a small man before, but his height might be lacking in this land and contributing to marking him so efficiently as a Larbant.
He put the thought aside to focus on Lackaday and his audience. The graying wagoneer had settled back in his chair and was scratching his beard thoughtfully.
"Well, let me see, it were 'least six months ago now. I never been good with dates."
"That's why my shipments are always late, is it?" put in a fellow three seats down.
"Ah, quiet, you," Lackaday replied with a hand wave and good-natured grin. "Now then. I was bringing a load of lumber from Oak Ridge on up to Aimsby, and I was maybe an hour outside Heathwaite when this group of rundown folk come out of the woods and are asking me if I have room. Crossed me mind that they might be 'dentureds on the run, but I figured that's none of m'nevermind, so I didn't ask.
"There were seven of them, five men and two women, and so thin all that there was not much to give me ponies a strain, so I welcomed them aboard. Well, we'd gone maybe three hours on when I hears hoofbeats, and the quickest of me new passengers have jumped and run for it. I think she got away, like a little cat darting through the trees, but the man who tried follow her got run down by the first horseman."
His casual manner slipped as his face darkened. "Ugly business, that, the fellow's laid out with his chest a ruin, but legs still pushing the ground and he's making this horrid rattle, like he'd scream if only he still could. What kind of horse tramples someone? Me ponies'll shy away and dance about to avoid a squirrel! Bander horses are as evil as the men atop them, begging your pardon."
"I take no offense," Able hurriedly replied. "I also think that a vile thing to do." He wasn't offended, no, but he was almost too nervous to glance at the people around him.
"Right you are," Lackaday agreed and was satisfied to continue his tale. "So there's ten of them surrounding us—" He shot a glance at the man seated beside him who was rolling his eyes and insisted, "It were ten! I counted! They surround us and I'm asking them what they've done this for; what anyone could have done to deserve this, but they arrest me along with the others and say they're going to confiscate me ponies and me wagon and me lumber too, though I told them it weren't mine and I was delivering it for someone else.
"They started asking me that person's name so they can arrest him too, and I'm nothing doing. Damn Bander took his riding whip to me face, but I was still nothing doing. I'd done nothing wrong and they's doing this to me, so no way was I selling out so they could do the same to me client."
"Is that scar from that?" Able asked of the long scratch on Lackaday's cheek.
"Oh, aye, yes indeed." He ran his finger along it. "Tend to forget it's there now, as I can't see it meself. Anyway, they start putting us in a rope line to walk behind them, and that's when he showed up.
"He shouts, 'Senior Deputy Tanner!' and the bloke in charge who had been whipping me turns around. 'I know it haunts you that your mommy had to break it to you that your daddy wasn't your real daddy, but don't you think it's about time you grew into the bigger man and moved past all that?'"
"He did not say that," said the same killjoy from before. The others around him hissed for him to be quiet and stop ruining the good part.
"He did too!" Lackaday protested, and Able believed him for this was well outside of Lackaday's own speech patterns. "I'll never forget that, as long as I live! That bloke Tanner, he turned purple in the face! 'You!' he said, and you know, I thought he had been angry when he was hitting me, but that was nothing, 'parently.
"And the Shadow, he ups and says 'Oh, you remember me! I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me with the new hood. What do you think? Pretty sporting, right?'
"And the Tanner bloke, he shouts something like 'Guard the prisoners! He's mine!' and out with his sword, he charges up the hill—did I mention he had shown up at the top of the hill? It's the one overlooking the bend just before the ford at Tinker Creek."
Able of course had no idea where this was, but several of the people around him indicated they knew the place.
"Up the hill he's a-scrambling and no sooner does he take a swing at the Shadow than he's kicked out his legs from under him and the bloke's gone tumbling down to the bottom. He's screaming bloody murder at this point, and up he goes again only to be knocked down again. And I guess Tanner doesn't want to risk a third embarrassment, 'cause he calls his men and they go on up after him, well, five of them do. The other four stay to guard us.
"So there's six Bander dogs and one Shadow. And we can see them, plain as day up on that hill. And he's holding them all off. Even though he doesn't have a sword, he's taking theirs, and knocking them into each other, and just...just fighting like a..."
"Demon?" Able suggested as the old man searched for words.
"Not at all!" Lackaday scowled. "I don't know much about Larbantry, but you say demon and I think of something ripping people's heads off and eating babies. The Shadow's more...he was more fighting like a...an angel. Just...otherworldly. That's the word I was looking for. Otherworldly, like he was in a different...world or something. From the Banders. He was just dodging everything they threw at him without ever looking in a rush. And he kept knocking them down and they had a harder and harder time getting back up, until two more went up to help. And that's when the Resistance came."
At this, several people clapped and one even whooped. Able just blinked. He'd expected the tale was going to end with the Shadow Warrior taking out all ten men down singlehandedly, which was unfair to Lackaday. At what point had Able started assuming this was the same manner of tale as he'd first heard?
"Five of them in masks, they took the two remaining soldiers by surprise and started scaring all the horses off and cutting us free. Then the lot of them, the Resistance men and the six 'dentureds, all escaped into the woods. Even took the dead man with them. They tried to get me to go too, but I weren't leaving me ponies and me client's cargo.
"And I said as much when the Shadow called down to me, asking why I didn't go with the others. I guess I were making a mess of their plans, as the two guards who'd been tied up were getting untied and some of the Banders were chasing the horses, and others the Resistance, and their leader and a couple others still trying to take him down. And then he says to me, 'Fair enough.' And then offers to stop resisting if they let me go!"
"Did they take him up on that?" Able asked, curious or maybe a little concerned.
"No, no! I was the one saying 'You can't do that! Don't let 'em catch you! People need you!' And so I slapped the reins and spurred me ponies into motion. They're stout-hearted beasts, me ponies, and they picked up their feet and went, even with a couple Banders hanging on to them and me wagon trying to stop me from leaving.
"And the Shadow—wish you could have seen this—he slides on down the hill like it's nothing and vaults off a fallen tree onto the back of me wagon and knocks the two buggers off. And then he hops off after them and tells me to take care!" Here Lackaday broke off laughing with joy. "I rather wish I had stayed to see what he did next, but whatever it was, he escaped, because he's still out there helping other people."
"If there's a whole Resistance," Able started gingerly, not sure that injecting reason into this atmosphere would have a peaceful effect, "with a whole bunch of people fighting while wearing masks, how can you be sure it's the same man?"
"Didn't you listen to me tale at all? You can tell. There's no mistaking the Shadow, even if he weren't the only one in black."
"The others don't wear black?"
"Naw, this kinda brownish gray that blends into the woods better." And was probably cheaper to come by. Black was not an expensive dye, but it was still dye.
"Has anyone else here seen him?" Able looked around. "Does this seem a regular Resistance strategy? Send the Shadow Warrior out to make a scene and distract the L—the Banters while the others carry out their objectives?"
No one else at the table confessed to having seen the Shadow Warrior themselves, but a couple had heard of stories of a similar nature that suggested Able might be on to something with his theory. Encouragingly, no tale suggested the man in black ever worked alone.
Encouragingly, as Able was sitting with his inclination to believe Lackaday. This wasn't a man who liked attention, no, this was a man who saw what he saw and was...perhaps changed by it. The inn girl had mentioned something to this effect, so Able stayed as it grew late and the common room emptied out to ask her about it. Also...maybe she liked him?
However, while Able was nursing his watered-down ale, a different woman sat down across the table from him. She was maybe thirty, fairly mousy, and silently staring at the table. Was it normal around here to just sit with a stranger without saying a word?
And then she murmured, "The Shadow helped me too."
"Oh?" Able let his anxiety over missing the inn girl go.
The woman turned her head to ensure that her hair obscured her face. "...I was indentured."
"And I'm not going to tell anyone that," he decided. "I'm completely neutral in this conflict, and I won't do anything that will endanger anyone. I only want to know the truth, so I can write it down for future generations to read." He hadn't thought about this issue until now, but it wasn't an issue that needed thinking about, really. He would never endanger someone.
Her gray-green eyes, still somewhat obscured by her faded brown hair, watched him awhile before she accepted this with a nod. "We couldn't pay, so they were going to take our house. I signed a contract instead, so that my husband could keep working our fields and feeding our children, so that they'd still have a place to live. I washed dishes at Adeptsby for a year..." She slowly turned her hands over, all red and cracked and withered.
She folded them into her sleeves again and looked up past the ceiling and into further recollections. "I had three more left in my contract. My hands got worse every day, and I had constant headaches, and I rarely got to go outside and see the sun. I thought I'd go mad.
"Until one night, there was this knocking at my window, and when I opened it, this man in black handed me my contract and some other papers. He told me that if I wanted, I could burn them and go home. That he would give me coin to pay off the next collection if I did. I won't be dramatic and say he saved my life or anything. I might have worked off the other three years and been fine. But...I am very grateful I didn't have to." And she peered at him again through her curtain of hair.
"Thank you for telling me that," Able managed despite the weight settling on him.
"I needed to see the look in your eyes." She stood and showed her hands once more. "I needed to know that a Bander could find this appalling."
She folded her hands into her sleeves again and slipped between the tables and out the door. Able watched the door close and stared a moment longer. He had no presence of mind to ask the inn girl any questions now, so he returned his empty mug to the tray and padded up the stairs. Quite predictably, he lay awake and stared at the shadows the moon made through his window. The only way to know if he had bitten off more than he could chew was to start working his jaws.