that greeted the mystic, with his identifying Jhesta Tu tan tunic and sash, were identical to the ones he had felt upon him in the previous village. Except for the Behrenese soldier; when that man took note of Pagonel, his dark eyes widened in obvious horror, and he ran headlong, even tripping to his knees once as he tried to scramble inside the town's common room.
Pagonel went in soon after, to find a dozen soldiers, all adorned in the white robes with the black leather chest straps, staring at him hard. The mystic nodded to them, then moved to the long table that served as a bar.
The scuffling of feet behind him told him that one of the soldiers had scrambled out of the room, no doubt to warn his superiors.
"Long way from your home," said the innkeeper, a broad-shouldered Ru with black stubble on his face that seemed to reach all the way up to his dark eyes.
"Not so long," Pagonel replied. ?A week's march and no more, if my pace is brisk."
"Them Behrenese dog-soldiers are going to think that you're far from home," said the innkeeper.
As he finished, Pagonel heard another scuffling, and he turned to see the soldier returning, glancing at him from over the shoulder of an older, stern-faced man who was dressed in Behrenese soldier robes, but with golden straps and not black, crossing his broad, muscled chest.
He stared hard at Pagonel, who took care not to match that look, but rather nodded deferentially and tipped his glass of water. Then the mystic turned back around, facing the bar, and placed his cup down on the table.
"What is your name?" came the question behind him, spoken in To-gai-ru, if a bit strained in dialect.
Pagonel sipped his water, making no move to answer.
"You, Jhesta Tu!" came a snarl. ?What is your name?"
Pagonel slowly turned to face the man, and the line of a dozen warriors nervously. The reputation standing behind him, most of them glancing about her tention of the Jhesta Tu preceded him, apparently.
"What is your name?" the leader asked yet again.
"I am called Pagonel. And what is yours?"
"I will ask, you will answer."
"I already have."
"Silence!" The man narrowed his eyes, his stare boring into the mystic. ?You mock me?"
"Hardly."
"I am Commander of the Square," the soldier said in haughty tones.
"And that is a source of pride? ?
"Should it not be?"
"Should it be?" Pagonel understood that he might be pushing a bit too hard, though all of his remarks had been offered in neutral, matter-of-fact tones, and all had been merely observations and not judgments. Or had they been? the mystic had to honestly ask himself. He reviewed his last few comments - while pointedly not locking stares with the infuriated Com-mander of the Square - and he had to admit that, while everything he said had been simple truth, it was also bait.
"I am Pagonel, Commander of the Square," he said calmly. ?I have jour-neyed from my home in search of wisdom and enlightenment, and with no desire for any trouble, I assure you." He lowered his eyes as he finished, which he believed that the prideful commander would surely view as a sign of peace and submission.
Like a shark smelling blood, the man moved to grab Pagonel's chin, to lift his head up that he could stare the sheepish mystic down. The com-mander's hand never got close to connecting, though. Reacting purely on instinct, Pagonel's own hand snapped across, slapping the commander's hand back to back, and with a lightning fast twist and pull, Pagonel rolled his hand back, caught the commander's thumb, and bent it back hard, throwing the commander off-balance, locking him low in pain.
Now the mystic did look up, into a face twisted with pain and outrage.
"I could have you killed for this!" the commander growled through teeth tightly clenched.
"I seek wisdom and enlightenment, not trouble," Pagonel calmly replied. ?But I am of the body, Jhesta Tu, and am sworn to protect that body." He released the hand as he explained, and the commander retreated a step and stood straight, rubbing his sore thumb and glaring at the mystic.
I am the voice of the Chezru Chieftain in this province," the com-mander growled, and Pagonel noted that many of the soldiers were collect-ing their weapons at that point. He wasn't afraid of them - not for his personal safety, at least - but he was very concerned at the implications of a confrontation here, before he had even really begun to