real."
Ben
said nothing. He just shook his head in disbelief and turned away.
Vincent
wilted in frustration. "Now, you must understand—"
Kyla
playfully scolded her father, "That's enough for now, don't badger
him."
"But
Kyla, they're real... people must be told."
"Father,
people will come to believe at their own pace. Ben has not ridiculed
you like the others, give him a chance."
Vincent
flinched. "Yes, Kyla, you're right. I'm sorry Ben, I abused your
trust on our first meeting."
Ben
was quick to downplay the apology. "No offense taken, I should
apologize for mocking you. I understand it's been stressful with the
killings on the roads and all. Sometimes we grasp at superstition to
explain what we don't understand."
Vincent
welled up angrily, prepared to spit forth a rebuttal, but Kyla spoke
first. "Please forgive my father's overzealous manner. He can be
too forceful at times."
Ben
saw the hurt on Kyla's face and changed his tone, "I'll try to keep
an open mind."
She
smiled sincerely, "That is more than I can ask for now. You are a
kind man to give my father your time."
A
figure approached from the road. His long shadow preceded him as the
silhouette ambled toward the inn. Ben looked more closely and
recognized the familiar shuffle of heavy feet. Mason carried a large
sack over his shoulder like a desperate peddler in search of someone
to relieve him of his wares. He sported a fresh set of clothing but,
beneath a recognizable dirty tabard, it was almost for naught. He
climbed the steps up to the veranda and dropped the sack in front of
Ben. "I was thinking that some new clothes would be appropriate."
"I
thought you were still sleeping," Ben grinned. He was surprised to
see his friend not only awake, but washed and shaved. Even his
normally bushy mustache had been trimmed and tamed.
"Me?
No, not at all. I've been up for hours. I even rode with one of the
teams out toward the North Torn." He pointed over his shoulder
toward the distant trees. "It looks closer than it really is."
Kyla
said, "The road east is getting too dangerous. Did they have enough
men?"
Mason
shook his head, "They were a few men short when they left this
morning. It seems desertions are not uncommon these days, so I rode
with them for a while to see the manner of the men. They were a bit
scared, but they'll be alright I think."
Vincent
said, "When are these people going to learn? The roads are not
safe, especially at night when the Murg come out of the shadows to
hunt."
Ben
halted Mason's inevitable comment with a forceful stare and kept the
conversation where it belonged. "Looks like you found a nice way to
spend your morning."
"The
countryside is pleasant enough," Mason agreed, "but the roads are
damned rough."
Vincent
mumbled, "They get even rougher at night..."
Ben
turned to Vincent and tried to keep his tone in check. "There's
nothing to be gained from wild speculations. I'm sure there is a
perfectly natural explanation for what has been happening."
Vincent
lowered his voice to a near whisper and grumbled, "...says the man
with unnatural talents."
Ben
had intended to ignore the ramblings of the man, but stopped short,
"What?"
Vincent
said, "I saw what you did last night. Everyone is talking about it.
How did you learn to fight like that?"
"I've
always been good with my hands. There is nothing unnatural about it."
Mason
huffed, "I wouldn't go so far as to call it unnatural, but I've
always thought your speed was uncanny."
"No!"
Vincent stubbornly shook his head. "That feat required more than
simple skill with your hands. I never saw anyone who could catch a
knife right out of the air. And to do it blind—"
"Blind?"
Ben asked.
Vincent
gave him a blank look. "Yes, blind. You know... with your eyes
closed."
Mason
erupted into a deep laugh. He swatted Ben on his back and said,
"That's a good way to get yourself killed, but I'd pay good coin to
see you try."
Ben
also laughed. "You're obviously mistaken, maybe the poor
Ben
said nothing. He just shook his head in disbelief and turned away.
Vincent
wilted in frustration. "Now, you must understand—"
Kyla
playfully scolded her father, "That's enough for now, don't badger
him."
"But
Kyla, they're real... people must be told."
"Father,
people will come to believe at their own pace. Ben has not ridiculed
you like the others, give him a chance."
Vincent
flinched. "Yes, Kyla, you're right. I'm sorry Ben, I abused your
trust on our first meeting."
Ben
was quick to downplay the apology. "No offense taken, I should
apologize for mocking you. I understand it's been stressful with the
killings on the roads and all. Sometimes we grasp at superstition to
explain what we don't understand."
Vincent
welled up angrily, prepared to spit forth a rebuttal, but Kyla spoke
first. "Please forgive my father's overzealous manner. He can be
too forceful at times."
Ben
saw the hurt on Kyla's face and changed his tone, "I'll try to keep
an open mind."
She
smiled sincerely, "That is more than I can ask for now. You are a
kind man to give my father your time."
A
figure approached from the road. His long shadow preceded him as the
silhouette ambled toward the inn. Ben looked more closely and
recognized the familiar shuffle of heavy feet. Mason carried a large
sack over his shoulder like a desperate peddler in search of someone
to relieve him of his wares. He sported a fresh set of clothing but,
beneath a recognizable dirty tabard, it was almost for naught. He
climbed the steps up to the veranda and dropped the sack in front of
Ben. "I was thinking that some new clothes would be appropriate."
"I
thought you were still sleeping," Ben grinned. He was surprised to
see his friend not only awake, but washed and shaved. Even his
normally bushy mustache had been trimmed and tamed.
"Me?
No, not at all. I've been up for hours. I even rode with one of the
teams out toward the North Torn." He pointed over his shoulder
toward the distant trees. "It looks closer than it really is."
Kyla
said, "The road east is getting too dangerous. Did they have enough
men?"
Mason
shook his head, "They were a few men short when they left this
morning. It seems desertions are not uncommon these days, so I rode
with them for a while to see the manner of the men. They were a bit
scared, but they'll be alright I think."
Vincent
said, "When are these people going to learn? The roads are not
safe, especially at night when the Murg come out of the shadows to
hunt."
Ben
halted Mason's inevitable comment with a forceful stare and kept the
conversation where it belonged. "Looks like you found a nice way to
spend your morning."
"The
countryside is pleasant enough," Mason agreed, "but the roads are
damned rough."
Vincent
mumbled, "They get even rougher at night..."
Ben
turned to Vincent and tried to keep his tone in check. "There's
nothing to be gained from wild speculations. I'm sure there is a
perfectly natural explanation for what has been happening."
Vincent
lowered his voice to a near whisper and grumbled, "...says the man
with unnatural talents."
Ben
had intended to ignore the ramblings of the man, but stopped short,
"What?"
Vincent
said, "I saw what you did last night. Everyone is talking about it.
How did you learn to fight like that?"
"I've
always been good with my hands. There is nothing unnatural about it."
Mason
huffed, "I wouldn't go so far as to call it unnatural, but I've
always thought your speed was uncanny."
"No!"
Vincent stubbornly shook his head. "That feat required more than
simple skill with your hands. I never saw anyone who could catch a
knife right out of the air. And to do it blind—"
"Blind?"
Ben asked.
Vincent
gave him a blank look. "Yes, blind. You know... with your eyes
closed."
Mason
erupted into a deep laugh. He swatted Ben on his back and said,
"That's a good way to get yourself killed, but I'd pay good coin to
see you try."
Ben
also laughed. "You're obviously mistaken, maybe the poor
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