A World Apart The Jake Thomas Trilogy - By Steven A. Tolle Page 0,92

stable. They brushed him down, put in feed and water, and locked up the gear.

They made their way to the courtyard, moving at a leisurely pace. They were making small talk when Jake was suddenly struck by the feeling that someone was watching him. He was used to the occasional glances by now, but this felt different. He glanced around, looking at the faces in the usual late afternoon crowd, trying to see anyone looking at him. While he was scanning the crowd, he caught a glimpse of an older man with white hair staring at him. Startled, he looked back in that direction, but the man was gone, swallowed by the crowd. Jake stood looking around, trying to locate the man again. There was something vaguely familiar about that man, but Jake could not pin down why.

"What is it?" Hailyn asked, noticing Jake's movements and looking around.

"Nothing." Jake replied. "I just had a feeling that someone was watching me." He shrugged his shoulders. "It was probably just me imagining things."

...

Martis ducked into a tavern, cursing himself for being that clumsy. He had arrived at the city yesterday, having driven his team hard. It had taken him the better part of the day to locate the boy, asking subtle questions, trying to make sure that no one remembered him asking, only to almost give it all away. The boy saw him, he was sure, but he hoped that he did not recognize his face. He shivered as he imagined what would happen to him if he was found out. Of course, that paled in comparison to what he would experience if he failed his mission. It was not something he wanted to think about.

The tavern was packed, with the tables full of people eating, while the bar area only had a few open spots. He maneuvered into one of the empty spots, squeezing between a couple of soldiers, and ordered some ale. He took a large swallow to calm his nerves, taking a second to wipe the foam from his mustache, and looked around, studying the make-up of the crowd. He noticed a soldier, an officer from his uniform, sitting alone at one of the tables along the back wall, an empty plate in front of him. Martis made his way over to the table.

"Hello, friend." He said as he approached. "May I share your table? The place is full tonight." The soldier nodded and gestured to the empty chair.

"My name is Martis Natheris, a merchant by trade." Martis said as he sat down. "Can I buy you something to drink to thank you for your kindness?"

"Thank you, but no, friend merchant." The soldier said. "I have to report to duty shortly."

"The life of a soldier, duty at all hours." Martis said, smiling at the soldier. "May I have your name, friend?"

"Captain Walten Stradford." The soldier replied, extending his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Captain." Martis said, shaking the man's hand. "What duty do you have that will keep you out at night? A patrol, perhaps? I have always thought that had to be an exciting life, riding out, looking for trouble."

"No patrols for me. I am the night commander for the West Gate." Stradford said proudly.

"A prestigious command; you ensure the safety of the city." Martis said, effecting a look of awe. He could not believe his luck. "Such responsibility must weigh on someone so young."

"It is a serious command, but it is not as extreme as you make it sound." Stradford said modestly.

"If you have time, I would like to hear about it." Martis said as he signaled for a serving girl. "My father would not let me join the army, preferring me to learn the merchant trade, but I had always wanted to be a soldier."

As Stradford began talking, Martis smiled attentively while his mind was busy calculating his options, as he saw the opening needed to complete one of the tasks he was given.

...

The days began to blur together as Jake threw himself into his training schedule. As he grew more comfortable around the smithy, Norlan and Helman expanded his tasks, giving him small projects to complete. Under Helman's, and sometimes Norlan's, close supervision, he joined Dern and Almos working on a forge, banging away at the hot metal, trying to shape it into a something useful.

His training with Dominic remained intense, as he was pressed at every session. He began to see and feel fewer bruises as he became better at defending against the attacks.