Chapter Eleven

Ryland had a problem.

It didn’t taste right.

He had wanted to let Minerva taste a griddle crepe like they had in the capital, and even found someone who was selling them, but when they’d tried it…

“This is awful,” Ryland stared down at the wrapped crepe with yogurt and fruit in the middle.

“Really?” Minerva asked, her mouth half full. “Tastes pretty good to me.”

“No, this is completely wrong.” Ryland put the crepe wrapped in leaves back on the stall counter, much to the surprise of the seller. Then he turned to the man and said, “What are the ingredients you used to make this crepe?”

The surprised stall owner said he’d used flour and then added eggs, milk, and butter to make the dish, following his old family recipe.

“Can I see your flour?” Ryland asked, and then stuck his finger in the flour and tasted it as the stall owner and Minerva watched. Then he nodded. “Wait here.”

After two minutes, Ryland re-appeared with a small bundle of leaves.

“May I?” He asked the stall seller, gesturing at the mini-kitchen inside the stall. When the seller was hesitant, Ryland showed him a silver coin and the seller became all smiles and handed him the apron he was wearing.

As Minerva and the stall owner watched, Ryland set to work. First he whisked the wet ingredients together thoroughly, and then he unfolded the broad leaves to reveal flour that looked much the same as what the seller had used before. He began slowly whisking that flour into the wet mix a little at a time, and then when it was ready he oiled the crepe pan and put on a very thin layer of it that he cooked before brushing on more butter, fruit and yogurt and then wrapped it and served it piping hot with a little cut strawberry on top to Minerva and the owner.

When they tried it, their eyes popped open.

“This...this…” The owner was acting like he’d never tasted crepes before.

“What did you do?” Minerva looked at him in shock. “It’s totally different.”

Ryland smiled.

“He just needed to make two small changes.” Ryland picked up the broad leaves with the flour he’d bought and rubbed a little together between his fingers. “The first, was he was using a coarse ground of flour sorghum flour when he needed to be using wheat flour. Probably because sorghum flour is cheaper here, right?”

The seller nodded. “Half the price.”

“Which would be fine with savory crepes, but with sweet ones finely ground wheat flour tastes better. And the other was that he was adding wet ingredients to dry, which is why it was so thick and lumpy.”

“Oh!” Minerva snapped her fingers. “That’s why you added the dry to the wet in small amounts like that.”

“Exactly.” Ryland nodded. “Sometimes it’s not what you do, but how you do it. He’s doing it fine for griddle cakes, but when making crepes, the batter needs to be as thin as possible and without lumps. This lets it cook more evenly and be more crisp.” Then he walked around, and handed the apron to the stall owner, who was so appreciative he tried to hand back the silver, but Ryland wouldn’t accept it. “Use it to buy better flour,” he told the man.

“How did you know to cook like that?” Minerva asked him as they moved on.

Ryland shrugged. “If I cooked my own food, I had more money for books. I snuck out and apprenticed to some of the street sellers in the capital on weekends and they taught me the basics.”

“You know, if you just opened your own shop here in Northport, I bet you could make a lot of money.”

Ryland shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And...I’d be your backer?”

Ryland looked at Minerva, who was watching him closely. “Are you trying to make money off me?”

Minerva smiled. “I know a good investment when I see one.”

“Are you sure you’re not going blind?” He grinned.

“I can see just fine.”

She didn’t take her eyes off him, and Ryland felt the blood start to rush into his face. He became aware she was just as beautiful in her maid’s outfit as she was the night before in the fancy dress. His mouth going dry, he turned away and pointed at a tent ahead where they had big signs declaring the “Come See Real Dragons!”

“We should go…” He started, and then felt something sharp poke into his back. Stopping, he looked at Minerva, who now had a panicked look in her eyes that said she was feeling the same thing he was.

There were four men around them now, one behind each of them and one to each side in the crowd. They were rough looking types who looked more like they belonged in the outer city than the inner one.

Were they being robbed?

Ryland was sure that did happen, but they seemed an odd pair to rob. Maybe someone had seen him slip the silver to the stall owner and figured they had more?

The man behind him with the knife pressed against his back leaned in. “Come with us, or your girl gets it first.”

Ryland nodded and said he would, but his mind was speeding through his options so quickly that the world seemed to slow down around him.

Fight? Not an option.

Run? They were bracketed in and the crowd worked against them here.

Call for help? Odds of help- low. Odds of getting stabbed- high.

The city militia? Any in sight? No.

Bargain? Possible, but not here.

They were now being hustled along towards the edge of the market, and once they were out of the sight of crowds anything can and could happen. None of it would be pretty.

“Let her go,” Ryland told the men. “I’ll come with you and give you what you want.”

That got him a laugh.

“No, I think we’ll enjoy both of you,” came the reply from the one next to him. Then he leered at Minerva and gave a wink.

Ryland didn’t want to think about what he meant by that, but it made him think of ways to escape even harder. Time was running out.

Then he saw Koamalu walking the other direction just ahead of them and his heart leapt. His big friend seemed to looking around for something, probably him, and he just needed to signal to him and they’d be able to get help.

But, just as he was about to try to signal to his friend, he felt the knife press deeper into his back and their captors hustled them to the side towards a stall. At first, Ryland thought maybe they’d seen Koamalu too, and were trying to avoid him, but then, Ryland saw that behind Koamalu were a pair of city militia men on patrol.

“Stand here and don’t say a word.” One of their captors hissed, and Ryland heard Minerva let out a faint squeak of pain and fear as her knife was pressed deeper. All he could do was stand facing a collection of hanging rugs while his best chances for help walked right past them, and he didn’t dare make any noise.

After what seemed like an eternity, they were hustled away from the stall.

With the market edge in sight, Ryland’s heart sunk.

They weren’t going to get out of his.

But suddenly, he saw a child eating shaved ice with sweet sauce on top, and an idea came to him.

There was a stall ahead at the edge of the market selling the treats, with a long line of people waiting for them while others streamed in with the cool snack. The people streaming in were mostly families and groups with children snacking on the ice treats.

He watched the families, and when he saw one that looked suitable he made his choice.

Just as a little boy was passing next to him, he suddenly took a step to the side and to everyone’s surprise snatched up the child’s ice and took a big bite from it.

Then he threw the ice at the face of the boy’s father.

The father looked to be a farmer in for the day to see the market, a very big farmer, with six very big friends or brothers (Ryland wasn’t sure, but they were definitely big) who immediately reacted by leaping to the defense of the little boy and confronting Ryland.

“What in the hells?!?”

“What’s wrong with you!?!”

Assaulted with angry shouts, Ryland reached out and punched the nearest of the men in the face.

The reaction was immediate and brutal.

Ryland saw a fist the size of a ham coming at him.

He took it straight on the nose.

Minerva screamed.

The world went black.

Koamalu had tried to find Ryland without any luck.

He hoped his friend had already left, or better yet, had nothing to do with the men who’d been following him, but he couldn’t escape the uneasy feeling he had.

So, he kept looking.

But then, as he turned a corner he heard a shout and turned around.

“Get him!”

Three of the men who’d been following him earlier rushed from the crowd at him, knives in hand and attacked him. Koamalu saw the men’s movements and stepped back, avoiding their attacks as he shifted his mesh bags with the spicy pots in them so that he had one in either hand and began swinging them around to give them momentum.

In an instant, the two clay pots in bags transformed into weapons that his people used called poi - weighted rocks tried at the end of ropes that were used in battle as both close-in and throwing weapons. This was a way of fighting he’d practiced with many times, and he knew how to use the poi with devastating effect.

In an instant, one of the pots smashed one attacker in the side of the face, sending him sprawling, while another attacker took a hit to the jaw, sending him flying back. While the third attacker was stunned by the turn of events, Koamalu swung a now-shattered jar of pepper compote in his direction. The sticky-spicy liquid contents of the jar splashing across the man’s face and leaving him clawing at his eyes as his whole face felt like it was on fire.

It brought a grin to Koamalu’s face seeing the men writhing before him.

Then, five more men emerged from the crowd and came at him…

Ryland came around to find himself being dragged down a back alley.

He left his body limp, trying to make sense of what was happening as his senses were returning him. There was one man on either side of him, holding him under the arms as they dragged his feet along like a sack of grain. Opening his eyes, he could see the legs of others - three more men, and Minerva, also being brought along with him.

My plan failed.

He had hoped that starting a fight between the child’s guardians and his captors would let them escape, or even bring the attention of the city militia. It had been a desperate gamble, but he hadn’t counted on being knocked out before he could direct the events into something more helpful.

Now they were away from the market, and at the mercy of their captors.

The group came to a stop at the end of the alley and one of the group members rushed forward before returning a moment later.

“All clear.” He heard the man say.

The captors pulled him out of the alleyway and onto a sandy road in what looked to be a secluded part of the inner city. But, instead of going up the road, they took him across it, and Ryland’s heart skipped when he saw why.

There was a ledge and then trench that dropped down to a fast-moving waste-water stream that ran along the roadside and out into the river.

They’re going to kill me and dispose of my body in the river.

He had only moments to live.