Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

a hand grabbing the back of his head, pulling his hood down over his shoulders.

“Get that damned thing off you,” Aeson whispered, his annoyance evident even in his hushed tone. “How do you think the city guard will react to a hooded rider with an elven blade strapped to his hip? Think with your head, not your ass.”

With that said, he trotted on, bringing his horse to the front of the group. He didn’t think the others had noticed, or at least they pretended not to. Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, Calen drew his cloak up around his sword. The last thing his father gave him.

The city guards barely even noticed them as they rode in through the massive arched gateway. They rode just far enough apart from each other so as not to entice any questions. On their own, none of them drew even half the attention that the mercenaries or cutthroats would draw, with their battered armour and motley collection of scars and war wounds.

As they passed through the gate, the road widened to over twice its original size. There was a split in the middle, occupied by a long row of peddlers’ stalls, interspersed with large elm trees, carefully pruned to allow just the right amount of shade. On either side, the street was framed by large stone buildings and an ever-flowing network of side streets and stairways as the city fanned out and upwards.

It was even more spectacular a sight than Calen remembered. Up close, he felt like an ant next to the giant buildings.

Calen had always thought that nothing could match the buzz and grandeur of the Moon Market, no matter how far he travelled. In Camylin, it was as if the Moon Market took place at every corner, at all times, and this was not even a day of note.

“The inn is just up ahead,” Aeson said. “We will bring our horses around the back, to the stable yard, and arrange some rooms for the night. I will be meeting our acquaintance there in an hour or so. It would be best to be settled in by then. Also, no names when we’re inside.”

Aeson pulled his horse to the right to avoid stepping on a small child, who tottered about aimlessly, oblivious to the fact that he had nearly become paint on the bottom of the gelding’s shoe.

The stable yard of the Traveller’s Rest was reasonably small, with only three or four horses tethered up outside. It was to be expected. With the size of the city, there was not much room to spare for extravagant stables.

The inside of the inn was a different story altogether. The common room was enormous. It was easily three times the size of The Gilded Dragon’s, and it smelled of wine, incense and tabbac smoke. Private booths were built into all the walls except the wall behind the bar, which was fronted by large casks of wine and ale. All the furniture was made of the most exotic wood and the finest velvet and leather that Calen had ever seen. The bar was a long slab of oak, ornately carved to such a degree that it easily matched the craftsmanship of the two dragons that sat atop the staircase of Lasch’s inn.

Calen couldn’t help but tap his foot along to the tune the bard was playing on his flute. It seemed familiar, though he didn’t recognise the words that the other patrons were singing.

The clientele were the oddest mix he had ever seen. There were merchants dressed in fine silks of audacious reds, golds, and greens; shifty, weasel-like men with circles under their eyes and dirt melted into their clothes – cutpurses and pickpockets, by the look of them – and grizzled men in heavy leather armour, with more scars on their face than hairs on their head. There were even some women – ladies, by the cut of their clothing. Calen really wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Not one of them looked like they should be there, yet not one of them looked out of place.

“What is this place?” Calen whispered to Erik.

“It’s a… private meeting area?” Erik said, as if he were not quite sure himself. “Father often uses it to meet acquaintances.”

Calen nodded as he looked around the common room. He could see why Aeson used it to meet acquaintances. Which he figured was a nice way of saying, “anybody he didn’t want to be seen meeting.”

It didn’t take long for the rooms to be sorted. The innkeeper had only two left, each with three beds. Calen, Rist, and Dann would take one, and Aeson, Erik, and Dahlen the other.

“Five minutes,” Dahlen said as they separated. “We’ll see you in the common room.”

It was clear to Calen that the room they had been given was only intended for a single occupant. All three beds were so closely jammed together that there was not enough space between them to stand sideways. The room was sparse besides. The only form of decoration on the wall was a badly patched hole, and an oil lamp that looked as though it had long since broken.

“Remind me again, why are we here?” Rist said, tossing his bag onto the bed on the far right of the cramped room.

“We don’t exactly have much choice,” Dann said with a shrug, running his hand along the damaged patch of wall.

Calen dropped his bag on the floor beside his bed and turned back towards the doorway. “Come on, it’s been a long few nights. Let’s just get a drink.”

We’re here because I’m going to find the men who took my family from me.

Erik and Dahlen had already secured a large circular table in the western corner of the room by the time Calen, Rist, and Dann got down the stairs.

“Where’s… you know?” Dann asked as they approached the table. His voice trailed off when he registered the sharp look from Dahlen. Aeson had warned them not to use names in