Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,48
were lit well enough, even at night, to fuel the unlikely dreams of one scraping out a meager existence on the pay of a city guard. His assignment tonight was the southernmost stretch of the eastern wall, however, and it had little to recommend it these days. To be sure, the broad vistas were scenic in the light of day, but they palled to tedium with enough viewings, and after nightfall they dissolved into broad gulfs of impenetrable darkness.
Eskaras dropped his gaze to the flagstone path stretching away before him, fancying he could see a shallow furrow worn into the herringbone pattern from the countless booted feet that had trod this path before him. He wondered how many times he himself had walked this lonely circuit, and his mood darkened. Wall-watch was a duty desired by very few; it was monotonous, too secure to draw additional hazard pay, and too remote to catch the eye of a more generous private employer. Eskaras rapped the next crenellation harder with his crossbow as he wondered what he had done to merit selection for this duty yet again; he had his suspicions that it was guilt by association.
He stopped and peered over the edge to see the stone recede downward into darkness. He could not see to the ground, over one hundred feet below, but he glimpsed the periodic torches in wall sconces, each a tiny nimbus striving to hold back the gloom. There were tales among the city watch of strange and terrible things reaching the walls from time to time, and it seemed every morning a few of the sconces were found torn from their moorings and had to be replaced, but Eskaras had never witnessed such events himself. Even if something did reach the city’s perimeter, what primitive forces could dream of scaling or penetrating this sheer stone giant? It was far too high and impregnable to even require a patrol, in his opinion; even one as thin as a mere two guards per wall.
One of the squat bastions punctuating the battlement loomed ahead. He stepped inside, leaning his crossbow against the interior wall to check the oil supply in its hanging lamp. He glanced over the large brass alarm bell hanging from the aperture that overlooked the city. Satisfied, he was reaching for his crossbow when a stealthy shuffling sound upon the flagstones outside the bastion brought him about with a sharp oath. His fingers curled about the solid wooden stock and he lifted the weapon against him, drawing the string back and latching it into place. He was fumbling for a bolt when a helmed head peered around the edge of the stone doorway. A roguish grin split the bearded face. Eskaras sagged against the bastion wall, exhaling in relief even as he glared at the newcomer.
“Brek, you thick-skulled lummox!” he said. “You could be sucking breath through a new hole right now.”
“I have seen you shoot. I had little to fear,” the other laughed, stepping forward into full view. “You are as likely to castrate yourself with that thing as you are to hit your target.”
“It is you I should castrate,” Eskaras said with a scowl. Pointing his weapon at Brek’s groin, he pulled the trigger. The unloaded crossbow string snapped to with a sharp report, and he took great pleasure in the height of the man’s startled jump.
“Do not even jest so,” Brek said in mock horror. “Can you imagine the grief-stricken maidens across our fair city, faced with such a cruel twist of fate?”
Eskaras snorted. “I can imagine how many husbands across our fair city would shake my hand in thanks for the deed, not to mention the legions of maidens you’ve not yet met whose virtue I would be defending.”
Brek’s grin drooped into his reddish beard, and he hung his head in a passable imitation of injury. “You wound me, my friend, you really do.”
Eskaras arched an eyebrow at the other man, and the impish grin emerged once more. Wall duty seemed a perpetual assignment for Brek; he was always getting caught at one mischief or another, and Eskaras knew quite well that for every ill-advised endeavor at which the scoundrel was caught, a dozen more went undiscovered. The rogue’s charm was undeniable, however, and his golden tongue had deflected severe punishment and even termination on more than a few occasions. And, Eskaras was forced to admit, he was a fair hand at arms and a competent guard, when he was not distracted by