Title: A Quarter South (3/5)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Pairing: pre-Kirk/Spock/McCoy
Summary: AU; there’s something strange about the prince’s new bodyguards.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2
A/N: It looks like this is going to be longer than expected. After all, am I supposed to end this before we have hints of mcspirk? I don’t think so! But I do apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.

Demon was the fastest horse; but to the prince’s great misfortune, it also seemed Demon had been bewitched by Kirk’s odious dog. The stallion literally would not stand for another rider to mount him. He tried kicking Leonard in the teeth for his trouble.

“That varlet,” the prince seethed as he rubbed at his bruised skin. He would repay Spock ten-fold for his sorcerous ways!

He took the mare instead. She, at least, seemed to have no particular allegiance to the scoundrels currently drowsing within the inn. Barely able to resist kissing the top of the horse’s head for not rejecting him, Leonard coaxed her out of the low-roofed stable and into the cobblestone courtyard. There they turned in the direction of the bridge.

He bit into his bottom lip, knowing in his heart that his options were limited. If he returned home, he would have to pretend he knew nothing of the circumstances behind his kidnapping. Furthermore, he would have to act ignorant of his stepfather’s duplicitous nature.

And his stepfather would never believe it of him.

Who, then, would be hired to end Leonard’s life next?

On the other hand, he could always appeal to one of the neighboring kingdoms for sanctuary; unfortunately that would also serve as a declaration of war against his own king, and the people—not the man—would suffer for it.

No, there was nowhere to go but onward, following the path set before him by two men he felt he could not trust. He had no idea where they had intended to take him before his escape, and he didn’t care. He would decide his own fate now rather than live at their mercy.

The grim-faced prince fixed his gaze on the road leading south and softly, calmly, urged the mare to take it.

She was content to obey him and he, never more grateful to have someone on his side.

~~~

They traveled under the sleepy eye of the moon and until the sun reached the center of the sky before the prince’s ill fortune caught up to him. He had hardly intended to stop his journey toward the coastline so soon but fate saw to it that he did when his mare developed a lameness. One of her shoes, of a suspiciously ill-fit, had loosened to the point of nearly detaching from the hoof. Upon inspecting the remaining hooves, he discovered the other horseshoes fared little better. It infuriated him that someone could pay so little attention and have so little skill that a horse from a king’s stable would be shoed improperly.

He only hoped her lameness was not an indication of pain.

He did not mount her again and instead led her towards the tiny pinpoint of a village beyond the hills in hopes that he could quickly locate a farrier to replace the shoes. Only at the halfway mark to the valley did it occur to Leonard he had no coin for payment of such services.

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised the mare, thinking briefly of the small gold brooch which had been the clasp of his finely made cloak. What had happened to that cloak he had no idea. His captors had likely left it behind in the alleyway since it bore the coat of arms of his kingdom and could have identified him as a lord of significant rank.

He wished now he had had sense enough to look for the purse Jim had pilfered from him; escape had been foremost on his mind then, which served him little now.

The prince sighed in resignation and continued the descent.

~~~

What at a distance seemed a village was in fact an estate. Not the seat of a kingdom, Leonard determined upon closer inspection, but perhaps the summer home of the royal family who ruled this countryside. The town, appearing small in size, was closely packed around the estate itself and, to Leonard’s surprise, was also heavily populated. He had no trouble navigating to its central market, for an exuberant flow of people practically carried him there.

The prince felt both at home and apprehensive in the crowded thoroughfare. He knew he had the air of stranger, not just in his dusty clothes or tired countenance but in the way his eyes darted hither-and-fro and his mare, although obviously lame, acted ill-at-ease like her master.

But he could not help himself: he had the uncanny sense he was being followed. Twice the prince stopped and turned around to peruse the people at his back, and twice he was disappointed.

They couldn’t have caught up to him so quickly unless they had stolen an extra horse and ridden hard to catch him. Surely they would have assumed he had fled back to his people, thinking he could deal with his stepfather on his own terms.

No, Leonard figured he was only paranoid, having not yet put enough distance between himself and his kidnappers to believe he was safe from them.

Besides, he had more pressing problems and one of them right by his side.

Even as he quickened his pace through the busy street, the mare slowed with each step. She was limping very badly.

“C’mon, gal,” he tried coaxing her. “I know it hurts, and I’m so sorry. Just a bit farther.”

Catching someone by the sleeve, he asked after the local blacksmith. The man gave him an abrupt gesture in one direction before pulling out of his grasp with a harried noise and disappearing back into the mung.

Leonard’s mouth formed a thin line as he rubbed soothingly at the mare’s neck where sweat had dampened her coat. They slipped off the main street to a narrower one.

He was at the point of shouting at random would someone just please direct him to the nearest horseshoer? when he caught sight of the blacksmith’s sign. Drawing nearer, he heard the distinct sounds of hammer on metal among the chatter of the street sellers. Relief washed over him.

The air around the shop was sweltering hot and, as Leonard tied the reins of the mare to a standing post, a youth bearing smudges of black soot came out to greet him.

“She’s gone lame,” he told the boy.

The young man nodded wordlessly and slipped back inside. A moment later, a burlier man—evidently the smithy—stepped into the street, wiping his hands on a rag. His assessing look took in Leonard and the mare at the same time. “Good day, milord.”

Leonard returned the greeting, then cleared his throat. “I need this horse looked at.”

“Threw a shoe, did she?” The blacksmith moved around Leonard and picked up one of her forelegs.

“Almost,” replied the prince. “I’m afraid it was set wrong.”

“Sized wrong, too.” The man pressed on different parts of the hoof.

The mare jerked and whinnied.

Leonard tried to soothe her, voicing his fear. “Has there been a puncture?”

“Afraid it seems so. There’s some swelling. If it gets any worse, it may need to be lanced.” The man lowered the hoof gently to the ground and eyed Leonard. “It’d be better if you left her stabled a few days. Once she’s on the mend, she can be shod… unless you’ve a need of her now.” He shrugged. “Not my decision, ‘course.”

Leonard released a breath and flushed, hating what he was about to admit. “I wish I could but… I don’t have the funds at the moment.”

The man shrugged again. “I’ll need half up front, and the rest when I’m done. How you earn the coin is your business.”

Leonard didn’t know that he could.

He made to protest but the blacksmith just patted the mare on the shoulder and said, “I’ll stable her one night. If you don’t turn up in the morn… she’s mine. Fair enough?”

It was a risk.

Leonard decided to take it. He extended his hand, and they shook to acknowledge the deal. Giving the mare a final quiet murmur of comfort, he turned away and headed back to the market.

There had to be some way to earn enough for the payment.

~~~

First he tried selling his boots.

“They’re deerskin!” he argued when the stall-keeper clucked over their muddy state.

“Deerskin or fairy gold, they ain’t worth nothing now.”

“Then this,” Leonard said, thrusting the hilt of Jim’s dagger under the man’s nose.

The man took it from him. “Eh, I ain’t sure.” His black eyes gleamed, though, as he ran a thumb along the flat of the blade.

Leonard snatched it back and made as if to tuck it away, saying haughtily, “Never mind. There’re other buyers at this market.”

“Now, now!” the stall-keeper called, rounding his table to catch a hold of Leonard’s sleeve. “Let me see that pigstick again.”

They haggled over the price for a while. Leonard had a moment to regret the selling of an object which didn’t originally belong to him, but the sum of silver coins he pocketed did ease his mind about the mare. He returned quickly to the blacksmith, paid him the promised half, and went to find a bit of food for himself and, if he was lucky, a place to sleep.

There was a tavern tucked away between a baker’s shop and a cobbler which had a dancing flounder on its sign. Leonard puzzled over that for some seconds since the sea was beyond miles of pastureland and a ring of mountains.

For midday the tavern was busy. Leonard took a seat at a table occupied by three laughing men and one older fellow already deep in his cups.

A woman appeared not long after and set a tankard in front of him.

“Dinner too,” Leonard told her.

She gave him a curt nod and walked away, skirt swishing.

“Hey there!” said the drunkard to Leonard’s right. “A young gentle man! Hum’s good ‘ere.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Leonard muttered. He casually leaned in the opposite direction as the smell of the man’s breath reached him.

The man was the kind of jolly drunk who enjoyed hearing himself talk. Leonard grimaced and nodded politely at the appropriate parts of the one-sided conversation. He was very grateful for the distraction of eating when his pie arrived.

One of the men at the end of the table leaned forward and winked at Leonard as the prince shoveled food into his mouth, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was.

“He’s a dringler,” the fellow said, indicating Leonard’s self-appointed conversation partner who was currently half-standing in his seat, trying to get the attention of the tavern-owner so he could order another round of brew. “In here morning, noon, and night souring his organs with drink. His wife’ll show up ‘fore long and drag him home. You from the North?”

Leonard nodded. After a moment, as the men stared at him, he realized they were waiting on him to share news from his travels.

He took a swallow from his tankard and faced them. “Crop season is good.”

One of them snorted. “Do we look like the kind to care about the crops? What of that prince?”

Anything else Leonard might have said dried up in his throat. Had word of his disappearance traveled this far, this fast? He shook his head.

They looked disappointed and turned back to talk amongst themselves. Leonard tried not to listen too closely.

The man next to him leaned in, breath somehow sourer than before. “I don’t like it neither, all that hen gossip.” He raised his eyebrows. “So, you ain’t heard?”

“No,” Leonard murmured.

“There’s this northerner prince set his kingdom on its ear. Took clean off, sudden-like,” the man snapped his fingers to show just how quickly he meant. “I say he’s dead ’cause that’s the way it always is.”

Leonard lowered his head and didn’t reply. He was nudged by the man’s elbow, whose ruddy face bore a new expression. It might have been concern.

“You’re a quiet one. What’s the matter?”

“I suppose I’m tired,” the prince admitted. “Been on the horse all day.”

“Ah.” It surprised Leonard when the man gave him a shrewd look. “Travelin’ lightens the purse too.” He pointed across the room. “If it’s chinkers you need, there’s your table.”

Leonard took one look at the unsavory crowd there and their dice and shook his head. “I don’t gamble.”

“And I don’t drink!” The man let out a belly laugh at that, having amused himself.

Though his pie was only half-eaten, Leonard stood up and abandoned it. The woman who had served him came after him as if she thought he was about to walk out without settling his bill, but he waited for her and gave her a grim smile, pressing enough coppers into her hand that more than covered the cost of his hasty meal.

He left the tavern behind without uttering a single word.

~~~

He didn’t realize how angry he was until he bumped into a person on accident and nearly started a brawl in the middle of the thoroughfare.

People had stopped milling about and backed up like Leonard had caught fire as he spat something vitriolic at the man’s feet.

A moment later Leonard realized why: he’d offended the largest killbuck in the square.

A meaty fist grabbed the wide-eyed prince by the front of his shirt and drew him forward.

Leonard feigned an apology, then kicked the man in the shin and ran for his life. Hearing the outraged roar behind him, he knew he was in serious trouble. He imagined the fellow wouldn’t care in the least if he claimed to be of royal blood and would proceed to grind his bones into dust.

The prince had a smaller stature and speed and made use of both, dodging wayfarers, carts and richly dressed women like he was a young child again and had been caught sneaking frogs into the kitchen with which to woo the pretty scullery maids. There was a second wherein he thought he would surely get away, that the bull of a man behind him was steadily losing ground.

Then Leonard tripped.

His pursuer was on him before he could think to right himself. A boot caught him in the gullet, sending a blast of pain through him that he hadn’t felt since Spock struck him on the back of the head.

Maybe that was why he suddenly thought he saw that exact person standing among the crowd.

And that definitely had to be why the person who took the flying leap over his head and kicked his attacker dead-center in the chest looked like Jim.

“No,” Leonard denied the truth, “no, no, no!”

“Spock,” Jim tossed the name over his shoulder, and abruptly Leonard was being hauled to his feet by a strong set of hands under his arms.

He lashed out but couldn’t force Spock to let him go.

“You beslubbering malt-worm! You vile canker! Release me at once!”

That was the point at which he ended up over his ex-bodyguard’s shoulder and, much to his horror, was unceremoniously toted down the street. His face filled with color, and that lent his cursing a vicious edge.

Jim, the prince was able to note from his upside-down position, didn’t appear to have any trouble dodging the big man’s fists.

Leonard tried another tactic. “Are you just going to leave him?” he demanded.

“Jim will dispatch your assailant shortly and join us.”

Leonard couldn’t think of anything to say except “I hate you.”

“Indeed,” the man carrying him murmured. “You vex me as well, Sir McCoy.” After a pause, Spock added, “It was our mistake, however, to underestimate your wily nature. We will take better care in the future.”

Leonard sucked in a breath and fisted his hands in the back of Spock’s jersey. “You can’t do this. This is wrong, and you know it!”

To the prince’s shock, Spock stopped walking and set him down. Then, peering down his nose at Leonard, he said bluntly, “What better option do you have?”

“B-Better?!” Leonard sputtered. He shoved a hand into Spock’s chest but a stone would have been easier to move. “Anything is better than being held hostage!”

Spock only raised an eyebrow. “What if we agreed you would no longer be a hostage?”

The prince opened and closed his mouth.

“Would it not seem fairer to you then?” pressed the man.

“Are you mad?” Leonard questioned, completely at a loss to understand how this man drew his own logic.

“Hey!” a voice cut in. It was Jim, who slowed his pace as he came abreast of them in the street, one of his fists grazed but otherwise looking none-the-worse for his encounter with a large brutish man. He exchanged a look with Spock before switching his gaze to McCoy.

Leonard’s knees weakened for no discernable reason.

Jim’s mouth curved. “We caught you, Prince.”

Leonard straightened his spine, speaking with a bravado he didn’t feel. “I wasn’t aware you considered me a challenge.”

“I’m beginning to think of you as a menace, actually.”

Leonard mustered a smile but it wasn’t at all sweet in nature. “Then why not let me go?”

“Too easy,” replied the man cheerfully. “Say, have you eaten?” He rubbed at his stomach. “I’m starved!”

Leonard clenched his fists.

Jim cut his eyes at him. “Fistfights always improve my appetite.”

Leonard clenched his teeth next and bared them.

Spock prudently removed his hands from the prince’s person and remarked, “Jim, I believe you are rousing his anger.”

“Good,” Jim said and did an abrupt about-face. “Where was that tavern we tracked him to? The pie looked good.”

“You were spying on me!”

Jim shrugged, not bothering to turn around at the lash of Leonard’s accusation. “We were waiting for the perfect opportunity, although… you could have picked a fight with someone who wasn’t part bull.” Leonard heard him sniff. “I’m not being paid enough for this.”

The prince burst out with “YOU’RE NOT GETTING PAID AT ALL!” and launched himself at the fool.

Spock caught the back of his shirt and prevented him from tearing Jim limb-from-limb. “Enough,” the man said. Oddly it seemed like he was not speaking to Leonard.

Jim cocked his head at them, his mouth slightly pursed. Then, saying nothing else, he started walking.

Spock, gripping Leonard’s elbow, urged the prince to follow.

~~~

“This pie is good.”

“I hope you choke on it and die.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet. Spock, try this pie.”

“You are aware I do not consume meat, Jim.”

“Frankly I’m not certain you eat at all.”

Hunched over on his section of bench, Leonard couldn’t resist the jab, “He probably feasts on the blood of virgins. Devil spawn do that, you know.”

Jim made a choking noise.

Leonard glared at him. “Quit your snirtling, you child.”

Jim reached across the table and tugged on a lock of the prince’s hair. “If I’m a child, does that make you an infant?”

Leonard batted the hand away and determinedly fixed his gaze elsewhere. The dice game on the other side of the room was the cause of much of the noise around them.

Jim’s eyes had dropped back to his food in the meantime. He rotated the wooden spoon in his fingers before resuming the consumption of the meat pie. “How’s my horse?”

Leonard propped an elbow on the table and put his chin in his hand.

“I said,” Jim repeated when the prince didn’t reply, “how’s my horse.”

“Regardless of the fact that horse is not yours, if I give her back, will you let me go?”

“No.”

Leonard sighed heavily through his nose and turned to stare at the infuriating man, dropping his arm back to the table. “I’m at the limit of my patience with you, Jim. Why is it so difficult for you to leave me alone if you don’t intend to harm me, as you so repeatedly insist is the truth?”

“Where would you go?”

“Why should that matter to you?”

Jim started to speak but stopped, jaw working, and looked down at the pie. “I saved you,” he said.

Leonard smacked his hand against the tabletop, a sharp sound which garnered the attention of a few people near them. “That’s a poor excuse!”

Jim’s fingers noticeably tightened on the handle of his spoon but his voice remained calm, if somewhat flat in tone. “It’s not an excuse. It’s a responsibility.”

Leonard stared at the man for a long time, trying to comprehend that.

Eventually Jim set his eating utensil down and sat back, regarding the prince with an equally measured stare. Neither of them spoke—not until someone sat down next to Leonard, startling both men.

Leonard studied him with interest.

Jim stiffened.

“Perhaps,” the man said to Leonard in a friendly tone, “you are seeking a travel companion?”

“No, he isn’t.”

Leonard’s first inclination was to decline the assumption but he changed his mind as soon as Jim answered for him. “Why not? What are your merits?”

“They’re boundless if you have the gold.”

Smiling, Leonard leaned across the table, stuck a hand inside Jim’s leather vest, and withdrew the purse he knew to be there. Jim seemed too shocked by the touch to stop him in time.

Leonard flicked aside the drawstring and slid a coin towards his neighbor. He didn’t lift his hand from it however. “While I could use a companion in my travels, there are a few questions I feel it necessary to ask. Then, at the termination of the contract, you’ll receive another one of these.”

“Seems fair. Ask, friend.”

“Are you a slaver?”

The man’s mouth quirked. “No.”

“A miscreant?”

“No.”

“A deviant?”

He outright grinned at the prince. “That one depends,” he said, flicking a glance first at Jim and then Spock. “Are you asking with respect to my mortal soul, or to whom I bed?”

For some reason, Jim looked furious.

Leonard didn’t understand why he should feel embarrassed, only that he did. “That was… an imprudent question. I apologize. I have no interest in the kind of person you fancy. As long as you don’t deal in deception, I believe I can abide your company.”

Jim reached out and grasped Leonard’s forearm. “Stop it,” he warned.

Leonard straightened and looked at Jim in a manner that was quite princely despite in his filthy attire. With clear reluctance, Jim withdrew his hand.

The prince turned back to the dark-haired man. “Please, ignore this fopdoodle. What he lacks in sense he unfortunately makes up for with his audacity. Your offer is quite magnanimous and well-timed. I accept it.”

“NO!” Jim practically shouted, standing up all at once and bracing his hands against the table. “Pr—”

Leonard instantly stiffened, thinking Jim was going to reveal his identity to the whole of the crowded tavern.

But Jim caught himself in time. “Leonard,” he spoke the prince’s given name grimly, lowering his voice. “If anyone is acting the fool at this moment, it’s you. Can’t you see this man is without scruple?”

Leonard swallowed and countered, “Like you?”

Jim’s mouth thinned in dismay.

“Do you understand now?” continued Leonard. He glanced at Spock, who was watching them both in silence. “You asked if I had a better option. Well now I do, because any option is better than going with you two.” He stood, wishing his heart was beating as calmly as he spoke. “I think I’ll take my leave now. Enjoy that pie.”

Jim didn’t stop him when he backed away from the table. He only said, “You’ll regret this.”

Leonard snorted softly. “That’s not a threat, right? Just a concern for my well-being. Too bad I can’t believe you.” He smiled down at his new benefactor, who had quietly pocketed the gold coin at some point during the conversation. “Are you coming?”

“Since I’ve been paid, I guess I am.” The stranger took a swallow from Leonard’s untouched tankard of ale and seemed prepared to follow him.

Jim cast a slash of a look at Spock, who also rose to his feet.

When Leonard circled the table, Jim blocked his path with an almost-plea of “Wait.“

But Leonard had had quite enough of Jim. He pushed the man aside, saying, “You don’t make my decisions for me. You were never given that right, despite that you seem to think otherwise.”

“Wait!” he heard again when he was at the door to the street. “Wait! It was my mistake!”

The unexpected apology caused Leonard’s chest to constrict but he refused to turn around. No good would come of forgiving a blackguard like Jim.

“Hm,” the prince’s newly hired friend said once they were in the open, “that was interesting. I take it you and the merc know each other well.”

“How did you know of his profession?”

“Everyone knows about Jim Kirk and his Companion. You looked like you needed a helping hand in getting rid of the two of them.”

“I…” Leonard began but didn’t finish. He looked away, feeling uncertain. “We met less than a week ago,” he settled on. “It makes no sense to trust him—or the other one.”

“Fair enough.” The man’s manner remained friendly. “So, your name is Leonard?”

Leonard nodded.

He placed a hand at the prince’s elbow. “Well met. Call me… Redjac.” A hint of a smile touched the corners of Redjac’s mouth. “Leonard, I do believe we shall be suitable companions for one another. Do you have a room for the night?”

“No.”

“Follow me then. There’s only one inn in this town worth its price.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when Leonard looked hesitant. “Don’t worry, it’s not a brothel.”

“I wasn’t concerned.”

“Excellent.” He moved ahead down the street, expecting Leonard to follow.

Leonard did.

~~~

The innskeeper insisted his establishment was the most respectable in town.

“We had the royal family stay here when their castle flooded!” he boasted.

Leonard assured him this fact made the place more than imminently suitable for a stray traveler such as himself and paid for his boarding as well as for Redjac’s.

He didn’t think anything of it when Redjac followed him to the staircase leading to the vacant lodgings of the upper floor.

“There’s wine available.”

Leonard blinked. “I’m fine, thank you, but I will decline.”

“As you wish,” said Redjac, who then paused briefly. “I’ll take a meal in the common room. Shall I come by after?”

“To what purpose?”

Redjac stared at the prince long enough that Leonard felt discomfited. Then the man said slowly, “You did accept me as a companion.”

It took him much too long to understand Redjac’s implication. When Leonard did, he felt simultaneously hot and cold. “No, you… you misunderstood! I’m in need of a protector—a guard, if you will—not, not a…” He choked on the word prostitute.

The man tilted his head as if in consideration of something. “And what prevents me from acting as both?”

“Me,” the prince answered promptly. He put out his hand in an earnest plea. “Do not think me deceitful, Redjac. I had no intention of securing pleasurable services when I made conversation with you. I only require your presence, and possibly your knife, until I reach my destination.” He added, somewhat embarrassed, “Is that all right?”

The man barked out a laugh. “You are an entertaining one, my gentle friend. I see why Kirk was loathe to give you up. It is all right,” he said agreeably and performed a perfunctory bow from the waist. “We’re of a proper accord now. I shall not warm your bed.”

Leonard had seen a flustered person turn beet-red once and wondered if that was how he appeared to Redjac.

“However,” the man went on to say, “do understand if you jilt me in terms of payment, I will be greatly offended.” He was still smiling when he warned the prince, “I am never as likable when I feel jilted.”

“Of course you’ll be paid!” Leonard was quick to assure him.

“Excellent.” Redjac glanced through the archway to the main room. “Assuming that is the sum of our conversation, I see someone who will be interested in my particular talents this night. If you’ll excuse me, friend…”

Leonard made an incomprehensible noise and waved him away. He sagged against the staircase once the man was gone.

This affair had not turned out at all like he expected.

“By Christ’s blood,” Leonard muttered to himself as he ascended the stairs.

Could his life become any more eventful?

~~~

A clutter on a shelf caught Leonard’s eye as he opened the door. Closing it, he smelled a mingling of beeswax, dusty cloth, and old leather. While his eyes adjusted to the dark, he let his mind wander back to the tavern he had long since vacated, where Jim would still be sitting nursing ale with Spock playing guard.

Why, after knowing they had lost him, did they continue to haunt his steps? What was it Jim and Spock truly wanted of him?

And what made him Jim’s responsibility?

Answers continued to elude Leonard. He sighed softly and used the strike of a stone flint to light a candle wick. The wax had nearly melted to the bottom of its holder but it would have to do to hold the shadows at bay. He sat on the edge of a blanket-covered mattress—once again made of that damnably itchy and bug-infested straw—the light of the flame on the door.

His mind would not settle, and his heart leaped each time the sound of footfalls came and went along the hall. He was waiting and he knew why. The feeling ended when someone finally stopped by his door and lingered there.

His breath caught when the door began to move inward.

“Don’t,” the prince said, voice cracking, one hand gripping a knee. “I told you, you haven’t the right.”

It seemed like an interminable amount of time that the door hung suspended between the acts of opening and closing, until at last it quietly and slowly eased shut again.

He released his breath and slept fitfully that night.

~~~

For two days Leonard lingered inside the inn, afraid of who might be lurking outside of it. On the third day, he went to visit the blacksmith with Redjac at his side and found his horse ready to ride.

They left town early that morning and rode deeper into the southland. Redjac turned out to be a fairly likeable man with a penchant for gossip, changing topics of conversation frequently enough that Leonard didn’t have time to dwell on his suspicion that they were being followed.

They stopped to break fast, then again later on to let the horses rest. Leonard found himself pleased with the shoes the smithy had cast for his horse. She appeared content too.

In the afternoon, a wagon pulled by a team of two horses came into sight along the road, heading the way the two men had come.

“Ho!” Redjac called to its driver.

Leonard could hear a tinkling sound and soon realized it came from the wagon itself, which sported an unusual arrangement of items, from household pans to cloth bundles and ironwork tools. Everything clinked and clanked together, making a steady chime of noise as the wagon lurched forward on rough-hewn wheels.

“Ho there!” the prince’s companion called again.

A rotund man with a long-whiskered mustache stuck his hand into the air and waved enthusiastically back at them. He cried, “Why, my friends, you’re a sight for these sore eyes!” Then specifically he identified Redjac by name as they came abreast of one another and halted.

Turning a twinkling gaze to Leonard, the wagon driver questioned, “And who’s this?”

Redjac laid an arm across his saddle bow. “His name is Leonard. Leonard, meet Harry Mudd.”

Mudd made a pleased noise, rubbing one end of his mustache between his forefinger and index finger. “Oh, it’s good to meet you, my boy—good to meet you! Any friend of Redjac’s is a friend of mine!”

This was a wagtail, Leonard thought. He’d met too many during his days at court to not recognize their ilk. Still, the prince remembered his manners and made a courtly, if stilted, bow. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Mudd.”

“Ah, a gentle man too!” Mudd crowed, sounded even more pleased.

Redjac grinned. “On your way to the fair, Harry?”

“You’re a merchant,” Leonard guessed.

“Yes, yes,” Mudd agreed, “a merchant! Harcourt Fenton Mudd, that’s me. Perhaps you’ve heard my name? I’m quite renowned in certain circles, you know.”

“Mayhap,” Leonard replied, seeing that an answer in the negative was not something the man would appreciate.

“Ah, of course you have! As I said, I am widely known, my boy—widely known for my travels into the most dangerous lands to procure the most exotic product! Here…” He twisted around on the wagon’s seat to lift a cloth from the back and dig around for something. Finally he held up a jar. “This is a rare powder from the Eastern Sands, made from the crushed scales of their desert dragon, which is a mystical creature indeed, hardly ever seen. A little of this—” He shook the jar. “—and you’ll never suffer pustules or boils again!”

Curious, Leonard moved forward for a better look. The mare whinnied as they came abreast of Mudd’s wagon but he gave her a comforting pat on the neck. “I have an interest in tonics,” he remarked. “It cures pustules, you say? May I inspect it?”

“Certainly, certainly,” Mudd agreed, puffing up with pride. He removed the leather ties around the top of the jar which held a cloth in place. Then, to Leonard’s surprise, the man stuck his fingers in the powder, and let it pour from his hand back into the jar like sand. “It’s very fine, you see.”

It had a strong, unusual smell, and the color was strangely iridescent. Leonard leaned in to study the coating of the powder—

—and Mudd smiled and blew a cloud of it straight into his face.

Leonard reared back, startled, and coughed. “What—?” His lungs tightened. He grabbed his chest and coughed again, nearly falling off his horse in the process. “What did you just do?” he demanded.

“Oh dear,” Mudd said, wiping at his fingers with a rag, “I think he’s going to fall. Try to catch him, Redjac. The last one nearly died from cracking his head.”

Leonard heard a sharp laugh and hunched forward to grip the horse, to stay on her; but he was already sliding precariously sideways, his head spinning from vertigo. That powder, in his nose, in his mouth, tasted vile. His eyes started to burn.

Then Leonard was falling for real, his limbs going lax without his brain having any part in the decision. Somebody did catch him, and he was unhooked from the stirrups and lowered to the ground.

Leonard saw Redjac looking down at him, his expression all-at-once amused and pitying.

“When I offered you a little entertainment, you should have accepted it,” the man said to the prince. “Where you’re going, no one is going to bother to give you a choice if they want your flesh.”

Leonard, stunned by the betrayal and paralyzed from the powder, couldn’t do anything except stare and panic inside his head where no one could hear him.

In the end, he was bound for enslavement after all.

This is why Prince McCoys should not wander about without their bodyguards, knavish as those bodyguards may be.

Also, if you recognized the character – er, myth – Redjac, kudos to you!

Next Part

Related Posts:

• A Quarter South (7/7) – from July 5, 2014
• A Quarter South (6/7) – from July 4, 2014
• A Quarter South (5/7) – from July 4, 2014
• A Quarter South (4/5) – from June 23, 2014
• A Quarter South (2/3) – from June 9, 2014

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