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Turning to Gunnar, Kerzi asked, "Do you really believe that the Borundans will pose as bandits to attack you?"

"They already have once," answered Gunnar. "A band of fifty bandits attacked my party in Capri a week before I met you. What Horst said, Kerzi, is the truth. These six men may have indeed been bandits, or they may have been something else. I do know that none of the bandits bothered to bend down to pick up your pouch of gold."

"They were waiting for Gunnar to drop his sword," interjected Horst. "They may very well have run you two through even if it was just to eliminate witnesses to their foul deeds. We will never know for sure, but we are alive only because we reacted properly to their threat."

"Fifty bandits?" Kerzi said in amazement. "I heard about a slaughter in the woods west of Koar. Were you involved in that?"

"It was me they were after," nodded Gunnar. "They were indeed bandits, but they were not attacking to steal from us. The Borundans hired the bandits to attack. Fortunately, my party was highly skilled and prepared to defend themselves."

"Then I apologize," Kerzi said with his head hung low. "I do not know what the world is turning into, but it no longer resembles the world I once knew. I thank you both for saving my life. I am fortunate to have such highly skilled warriors as my escorts."

"And for only a silver a day," chuckled Horst.

"Seriously, Kerzi," Gunnar said softly, "I have never meant to bring this kind of trouble into your life. When we get to Caxon, you must hire a new warrior. I do not want to be responsible for getting you hurt."

Turning to Horst, the Arin prince continued, "I think we should keep a sentry tonight and every night until we reach Caxon. I have already had some sleep, so I will take my watch now. Get some rest."

The rest of the night passed without incident. As they packed up in the morning, Horst created a line to tow the bandits' horses, which were found tied to a tree not far away from the campsite. As they pulled out of the campsite and regained the road to Caxon, Gunnar shook his head as he saw Horst run his hand up to the back of his head where his ponytail used to hang. It reminded the Arin prince of how their lives were changing, and it made him angry that the Borundans were the ones forcing the change.

The forests of Caroom were dense and dark, and game was plentiful. Horst had brought a bow with him, and the meals on the trip to Caxon grew more varied than the dried-meat stews that Kerzi usually made. Horst's beard grew in quickly, and it was indeed full by the time they saw the walls of Caxon rising in the distance.

Their last night on the road before reaching Caxon was spent on a hill overlooking the river valley and the city below. Horst immediately went out hunting for something to eat while Gunnar tended to the horses. Kerzi busied himself with the campfire and checking the wagon to see how it was holding up on the long journey. Horst came into the campsite with a grin on his face. He carried a large turkey, and Kerzi's eyes lit up. The old man slid out from under the wagon and eagerly took the turkey from Horst.

"This will be a treat," grinned the old man. "I have a special recipe for turkey, one that my wife taught me."

Horst paid no attention to the old man's words. He washed up and proceeded to turn his attention to training Gunnar's horse.

"You still miss her, don't you?" Gunnar said softly as he moved to help the merchant clean the turkey.

"Aye," Kerzi nodded sadly. "It was a long time ago, and you would think the memories would have faded over the years, but it doesn't work that way. I can still remember her as if it were just yesterday that the sickness took her away from me. Life can be torture at times."

"A man once told me," Gunnar smiled thinly, "that good memories are treasures to be savored over the years."

"He was a wise man who spoke those words," Kerzi nodded. "Those are the true treasures of life, and no bandit can ever steal them from you. I suppose that is why I am so easily detached from my gold. It holds a lesser significance in my eyes. Still, you and Horst have shown me that the world is now changing. I will not be so quick to give into bandits in the future, but it still will not be because of the gold. I do not wish to give up the real treasures."

"What is our plan for Caxon?" asked Gunnar. "Will I have time to stroll the marketplace?"

"I think we will spend the entire day in the city," nodded Kerzi. "I want to see if I can find someone to look at the wagon's axels. I'm a little fearful of the rear one. The wheels seem to be at an angle, and I do not wish to break down on the road. Normally I like to have repair work done in Capri where I know the men with skills I require, but I don't think this can wait."

"That works out well with my desires then," replied Gunnar. "I want to pick up a decent bow so that I can join the hunt with Horst each evening."

"Do you know how to use one?" ask Kerzi. "It has been some time since I used one, but I could give you some pointers."

"I am a fair shot with a bow," smiled the Arin prince. "When I set out to join up with a merchant in Capri, I did not wish to carry many belongings, so I did not bring mine along with me."

"And now you feel more at home wandering with a merchant?" laughed the old man.

"I do," smiled Gunnar. "You are more than a merchant, Kerzi. You have become a friend."

"And you have become like a son to me," Kerzi replied with the glint of a tear in his eye. "I know that you spoke of leaving me in Caxon when we arrived, and I have done a lot of thinking about that over the last week. I don't want to see you leave."

"Nor do I wish to leave," Gunnar frowned sadly, "but it is probably for the best. As time goes on, trouble will follow me closer and closer. It is no longer safe for me to assume that I can hide as a merchant's warrior, and my presence will only endanger your life."

"I know that," nodded Kerzi, "but I do not care. You still have some measure of disguise posing as my warrior, and I would like you to continue on."

"Despite the danger?" questioned Gunnar. "You did not react well to our killing the six bandits last week."

"No, I didn't," admitted the merchant, "but I was wrong, and you and Horst were right. I know that now. Will you two guard me as I carry the wine to Salacia?"

"Wood," replied Gunnar.

"Wood?" echoed the merchant.

"I told you before that the wines in Caxon are too high-priced to demand a decent profit in Kyland," grinned Gunnar, "but I do happen to know that there are certain hardwoods in Caroom that are highly prized in Salacia. There will not be a huge market for the woods, but the load will generate some healthy profits."

"I most certainly want to have the axels looked at then," Kerzi nodded thoughtfully. "Does this mean that you will come with me?"

"I signed on for a round trip to Capri," smiled Gunnar. "If you want me to continue with the journey despite the danger to yourself, I am obligated to do so."

"I would never hold you to that obligation," Kerzi shook his head. "Surely, you know that?"

"I do," nodded Gunnar as he felt his bushy beard, "but I want to make a trip through Anatar in any event, so I will accompany you back to Capri."

The capital of Caroom was an ancient city, and some say it was the birthplace of civilization. The city of Caxon rested on the banks of the upper Vine River. It's ancient wall stood forty feet tall, but unlike the other walled cities of the Land of the Nine Kingdoms, most of the people in Caxon lived outside the wall. The part of the city inside the wall was called the Old City, and it was there that the Royal Palace, marketplace, and many of the shops resided. As people moved to take up residence in Caxon, they were forced to build outside the wall. Over the years the city spread greatly, until less than a third of the inhabitants of the city lived behind the defensive wall.

Two great roads fed into Caxon. The Kyland-Caxon Road which led to the capital of Salacia and the west coast of the Land of the Nine Kingdoms, and the Caxon-Laborg Road that followed the Vine River to Laborg and the east coast. The Vine River marked the border between Caroom and Vineland, and the Caxon-Laborg Road crossed over it just outside of Caxon. The marketplace was also different from the ones in other cities. A large park bordered it on one side, and the other three sides were lined with inns and taverns. For those who wished to spend the night, or tip a mug of ale in Caxon, the marketplace is where they would have to go. Neither inns nor taverns were allowed anywhere else in the city.

Kerzi could not utilize his normal pattern of getting to the marketplace by avoiding the city center, because the marketplace was in the city center. The ancient streets of the Old City were also too narrow for the wagon to navigate easily, so Kerzi suffered a straight entrance into the city.

"There is no place in the Old City to leave a wagon without tying up traffic," Kerzi sighed, "unless we use the stable areas of an inn, so I am going to check us into an inn before we unload."

"We could return outside the city after we unload if you wish to save your coppers," suggested Gunnar.

"No," the merchant shook his head. "The wood will be heavier than what I am used to carrying in this old wagon, and I need to have the axels looked at anyway. Spending the night in an inn will be well worth the bother of navigating these streets, and the axel can be checked in the stable yard."

"The Palace Arms is a fairly decent inn," Horst offered with a wry smile.

"I think not," chuckled Kerzi. "The Palace Arms would be akin to giving our gold to the bandits. You were pampered too much in your youth, Horst. I am going to introduce you to the world as most people see it. We will stay at the Rose and Thorn."

"Nice try," laughed Gunnar as Horst made a face at the merchant's selection. "You could, of course, use all those silver pieces you have earned so far to stay at a different inn than Kerzi and me."

"We will stay together," Kerzi shook his head, not realizing that Gunnar was joking. "If there is trouble in this city, I want to be ready to leave quickly."

"The Rose and Thorn will do," Horst conceded with a grin. "It's been a long time since I was in a drunken brawl."

Kerzi turned to admonish the Odessian prince, but Gunnar intervened.

"He is trying to get your goat," laughed Gunnar. "Pay no mind to his words. I have it on good advice that he often sleeps in a small shack in the middle of Odessia."

"They are called yurts," Horst frowned with mock offense, "and I can ensure you that nothing is as cozy in the winter as a warm yurt."

The Rose and Thorn was a rather inexpensive inn, and it was located as far from the park as possible, but still adjoining the marketplace. Gunnar and Horst had to dismount to guide the wagon into the narrow alleyway that ran between buildings to the common stable yard that was used by six inns. Kerzi climbed off the wagon and disappeared into the rear door of the Rose and Thorn while Gunnar and Horst stabled their horses as well as the six bandits' horses.

"Are you going to sell them?" asked Gunnar.

"Of course," nodded Horst. "They won't bring in much, but it would be a shame for them to starve to death when the winter comes. Once we get rid of the grain, I will go in search of a buyer."

"I am going to find a bow," declared Gunnar.

"Are those silver pieces burning a hole in your pouch?" laughed Horst.

"I really feel poorly taking the old man's money," frowned Gunnar. "I signed up with him to hide from the Borundans, not to earn silver. Instead of getting a simple warrior, he has ended up in an intrigue that may well cost him his life."

"We are all mortal," shrugged the Odessian prince. "I will not let anyone harm him, but we all must die sometime. You would be wise not to dwell on the subject."

Kerzi returned from the Rose and Thorn and climbed onto the seat of the wagon.

"I suspect that I will only need one of you to help me unload," he announced. "You two can choose between yourselves."

"I will help you," offered Gunnar. "Horst can use the time to sell the horses."

"Agreed," nodded Horst. "I will meet you in the common room around sunset."

Gunnar climbed onto the seat, and Horst guided the wagon through the narrow alleyway. Progress was slow through the narrow streets of the Old City, and it took several hours before the grain was sold and unloaded. After they had returned to the stable yard behind the Rose and Thorn, Gunnar hurried out to the stalls of the marketplace. The sun was already beginning to sink by the time Gunnar found a bowyer with a suitably wide selection. He was surprised to see a man around his age manning the stall, as most of the merchants were older men, but the variety of bows and arrows showed promise.

"A longbow, sir?" asked the young merchant.

"No," Gunnar shook his head, "I am more interested in a good recurve. You seem to have a fine selection."

"The best in Caxon," smiled the merchant. "As bold a statement as it might be, I would wager that we have the best selection of the finest bows in all the Land of the Nine Kingdoms."

"That is a bold statement," Gunnar replied as his eyes scanned the array of bows. "Aren't you rather young to be the world's greatest bowyer?"

"The stall is not mine," smiled the merchant. "It belongs to my father, but he spends his days creating the masterpieces that you see before you. Besides, I am twenty years tomorrow. Today is my last day of tending the stall. My younger brother will take over tomorrow, so if you want a decent bargain, today is your day."

"You do seem adept at tending a stall in the marketplace," Gunnar chuckled as he picked up a bow and weighed its feel in his hand.

"A nice looking bow that," commented the merchant as he reached behind him and selected a different bow, "but you might consider this one instead. The draw weight is high, but you look as though you could handle it. It would be excellent for bagging a bear or a large boar. Try the feel of it."

Gunnar accepted the offered bow. He held it in his hand, and a smile formed on his lips. The merchant moved closer to inspect Gunnar's hold on the bow.

"Your grip is larger than I thought," mused the merchant. "Let me have you try a different one."

The merchant moved to the back of the stall and brought out another bow. He handed it to Gunnar and put the other bow back where it belonged. He then returned to examine Gunnar's grip.

"A much better fit," the merchant nodded appreciatively. How does it feel to you?"

"As if it belongs in my hand," grinned Gunnar. "May I try it?"

"Certainly," smiled the merchant as he plucked three arrows from the shelf. "I would not let you buy it without trying it."

"You probably say that to all of your customers," Gunnar chuckled as he thought the merchant was merely trying to say something pleasing.

"I do," laughed the merchant, "but I mean it. My father's stall has been in the family for hundreds of years. I would not want anyone to besmirch our reputation. A short term gain in gold is never worth the loss that a dissatisfied customer can bring when he talks ill of his transaction."

"You are an unusual merchant," noted Gunnar. "I have never met one who would turn away a customer."

"It is how my father raised me," shrugged the merchant as he waved to someone distant.

Gunnar turned to see a slightly younger man running through the crowd towards the stand. He had a remarkable resemblance to the merchant.

"Do you need me, Monte?" asked the younger man.

"Watch the stall for a moment please," replied the merchant. "We need to test a bow."

Monte led Gunnar around the side of the stall and into the park. Small flags marked off a long lane, and three archery targets sat at varying distances along the lane.

"My brother will watch the stall, so there is no need for you to hurry," Monte declared as he handed Gunnar a bowstring. "Take as much time as you need to make sure that the bow is right for you."

Gunnar took the string and strung the bow. Monte handed him an arrow, and Gunnar nocked it and pulled the bowstring as he aimed at the closest target. He released the bowstring and the arrow sailed through the air. It flew over the target and landed halfway to the next target.

"You are stronger than you appear," chuckled Monte.

"I must be out of practice," frowned Gunnar. "I thought I was a fair shot."

"It is the bow," offered Monte as he handed Gunnar another arrow. "Father uses a compound of selected hardwoods in his recurves. You will find that you can achieve greater distances with less effort. Try again."

Gunnar nocked the arrow and pulled back on the bowstring. He mentally gauged his degree of error from the first attempt and then released the string. The arrow sailed into the first target a hand's width above the bull's-eye.

"Try again," suggested Monte as he handed Gunnar the last arrow. "I will go get some more shafts."

Monte dashed off and returned with a full quiver of arrows. Gunnar had released the third arrow and scored a bull's-eye on the first target.

"Now you are getting the feel of the bow," nodded Monte. "Try the second target."

Gunnar shot three arrows at the second target. The first two were slightly high, but the third hit the bull's-eye. None of the shots had wavered left or right of center.

"I think your claim to be a fair shot was a humble one," remarked Monte. "You have done this before."

"A few times," grinned Gunnar as he grabbed another arrow.

"Try for the farthest target," instructed Monte, "but do not be dismayed at missing it. I purposely place that one far off to discourage braggarts from using the lane all day. I will move it forward if you wish."

"Are you saying that this bow is not capable of reaching such a distance?" Gunnar joked, expecting to see Monte revert from an instructor to a merchant anxious to hawk his wares.

"The bow is capable," Monte replied seriously. "I was merely trying to temper your expectations. Shall I demonstrate?"

Gunnar's eyebrow rose as he turned to gaze at the merchant. Slowly, he nodded and handed the bow to Monte. The young merchant grinned broadly and accepted the bow. He plucked an arrow from the quiver and nocked it. Drawing the bowstring back and releasing it almost appeared to be one fluid motion. The arrow sailed into the bull's-eye of the third target. With swift smooth motions, Monte plucked two more arrows from the quiver and sent them sailing into the bull's-eye as well. He grinned broadly and handed the bow back to Gunnar.

"My father always taught me never to do that in front of a prospective customer," he laughed, "but I somehow thought you might appreciate it."

"Appreciate it?" gawked Gunnar. "I have never seen such skill in all my life, and I have seen many a fine bowman. You should not be selling wares in a marketplace. Your skills are wasted here."

"I feel the same," nodded Monte. "I am not sure what I want to do in life, but I have already informed my father that today is my last day."

"That's right," replied Gunnar as he remembered the merchant's words from earlier. "Tomorrow is your birthday. I would like to buy you an ale in celebration if you will allow me to."

Monte hesitated as he looked at the scarlet sky. Finally, he nodded and smiled, "This day is done as far as the marketplace goes. I would not mind ending it up with a bit of celebrating. My brother will not mind taking over the stall for the last few minutes of the day."

"As long as he doesn't close the stall," chuckled Gunnar. "I want some time to haggle over the price of this bow."

"You want it then?" inquired Monte.

"I cannot leave Caxon without it," grinned Gunnar.

"You have just diminished your bargaining position," laughed Monte, "but I like you. I will give you our best price as long as you allow me to overcharge you on the arrows and quiver that you will need."

"Done," laughed Gunnar.

Monte led Gunnar back to the stall where they completed the deal. By the time they were done, Monte's brother merely had the task of closing up the stall, and he offered to do so. Monte led Gunnar to the nearest tavern where the merchant slid across the bench farthest from the door until he was next to the wall.

"A favorite seat?" Gunnar questioned as he looked around the nearly empty room and slid across the bench to sit next to Monte.

"Not really," Monte shook his head. "You appear to be a man of some traveling, certainly not a Caroomite. I want to talk to you privately about the places that you have been so that I can get some type of idea where I should go. I am not eager to have anyone hear the conversation."

"Why not?" Gunnar asked with suspicion.

"My father knows that I am leaving Caxon tomorrow," answered Monte, "but he does not know that I plan to travel farther than the borders of Caroom. I am not sure that he would approve. He thinks leaving Caroom is merely looking for trouble."

"There is some wisdom in your father's words," frowned Gunnar. "The world can be an unsafe place at times, and it is not getting any safer. I think that war will come to the Land of the Nine Kingdoms rather soon. Why don't you stay in Caroom? It is a large country and I am sure that you can find adventure within its boundaries. "

"I have been manning my father's stall for five years," answered Monte. "Over those years, I have seen many strange and interesting people come through Caxon. Each time I met an interesting person, I would end up daydreaming about what those foreign places must be like. I don't know if I can explain it, but I must travel the world. I cannot be satisfied until I have seen it all, but I do not know where to begin. Where are you from?"