The Sword of Wisimir

Chapter 3: Contract (Part 2)

"You don't talk like a Southsider."

Jack froze and turned around. He'd been taken to his billet – a bunk with a box of clothes in a long room containing thirty other beds. The man with an eye-patch had brought him here and introduced himself as Malthus.

"I grew up in Ardal," Jack said. "Moved here recently."

"Funny, wouldn't said you were a farmer either."

Jack shrugged, trying to stay calm. "I can't help that."

Malthus smiled. "True enough, and you say, never used a sword before?"

"Never."

Malthus laughed. "Well I ain't ever seen someone pick it up like that before."

Jack unbuckled the scabbard and laid the weapon on his bed. It felt heavier than before and strangely awkward.

"Real antique that, you say it's your friend's?"

"Yeah."

"Any idea where he found it?"

"No." Jack felt Malthus at his shoulder, staring curiously at the weapon. "I thought anyone joining the Kingsmen needed a blade."

Malthus laughed again. "Yeah most of the farmers and scroats think that. They turn up with their plough handles and hatchets. Usually they get confiscated at the gate."

"Do I have to store this then?" Jack asked.

"Not if the duty sergeant's let it through," Malthus replied. "Chuck 'im under the mattress."

Jack took the advice and laid the weapon on the springs then re-made the bed. "Good as new. What happens now?"

"You sit here till they call you for drill. You'll meet all the greens then, there's eight of you."

"Okay."

"Don't hold that other stuff against Estorin, he ain't really a bastard."

Despite everything, Jack felt himself smiling. "It's all right," he said. "He lose his teeth picking on someone else?"

"No, he lost his teeth at Rat-gut Ridge against the Orcs, same place I lost this." Malthus tapped his eye-patch.

Jack sat down on the bed. "Must have been bad," he said.

"It was." Malthus sat down on the bed opposite. "But you learn to live with it. Least out there everything's clear cut - black and white. You know your enemy and your enemy knows you. This city's different; you can't trust the folk who're the people you're supposed to be fighting for."

"How long you been here?" Jack asked.

"Half a year, a full half too long," Malthus scratched his jaw. "There's talk of more trouble on the border, so perhaps won't be for much longer."

"That's why I joined up, to get away."

Malthus fixed him with a one eyed glare. "Every man has something he wants away from, but make sure it don't chase you."

Jack nodded. "Thanks, good advice."

Malthus stood up. "Best stay away from Est too till he's ready to talk. I'll tell you when."

Jack's thoughts turned to the money hidden under the city wall. "How long till they let me out with the rest of you?"

"Usually a week of drill, it'll be like a graveyard around here."

"Why?"

"Word is we're being ordered out to take over the curfew tonight," Malthus explained. "Some scummer from a tavern stole the city taxes."