An Oath of Brothers by Morgan Rice Page A

beneath the water, and finally, they all seemed to agree.
    One by one, they each leaned forward, held out a sack, and dropped it.
    Godfrey watched as they all sank. Then, suddenly, the brilliant sunlight shifted, hidden behind a cloud, and the waters became murky again. There was no visibility whatsoever.
    “What if we can’t find it?” Akorth asked, suddenly panicked.
    Godfrey turned and looked over, and they all followed his glance to the towering statue of the ox on the street beside them.
    “Look for the ox,” he replied.
    Godfrey nodded to Merek, and they continued rowing, and soon they turned a bend, and the waters brought them right to the tavern, straight ahead, the noise from the patrons audible even from here.
    “Keep your heads down and your hoods lowered,” Godfrey directed. “Stay close together. Do as I say.”
    “And what of drink?” Akorth said, panicked. “We’ve just hidden away all our gold. How are we supposed to buy a drink?”
    Godfrey smiled and held out a coin.
    “I’m not stupid,” he said. “I saved one.”
    The boat docked, and they all jumped out, quickly abandoning it, and merged into the bustling crowd. The noise grew as they approached the bar, the men rougher here, the Empire soldiers and patrons clearly all drunk, scores of them bustling outside, laughing and shoving each other. A few of them smoked a strange pipe Godfrey had not seen before, and the heavy odor hung in the air.
    Godfrey felt at home, finally, felt as he would outside any bar in the world. These people might all be miscreants, they might all have different colored skin than he, but they were drunk, carefree, and they were his people.
    Godfrey led the way, his men following as he pushed his way through the crowd, lowering his head, and entered the tavern.
    He was met by a rush of sounds and smells, similar to what he might find in any tavern anywhere: stale beer, old wine, men sweating the day away indoors. It was a familiar and strangely comforting smell. It was louder in here, the voices blending, people speaking multiple languages he did not recognize. The patrons seemed like a rough crowd, a mix of delinquent soldiers and the lower strata of the population. None of them, Godfrey was relieved to see, turned his way as he entered; they were all preoccupied with drink.
    Godfrey kept his head down and cut his way through the crowd, the others on his heels, until he made his way to the bar. It was an old weathered bar, the kind he might have found back in the Ring.
    He leaned an elbow against it, squeezing in between several patrons, reached out, and put the gold coin on the bar, hoping the bartender would accept it. It might be struck differently, but after all, gold was gold. As he saw mugs of ale being served, he began to salivate; he hadn’t realized how badly he craved a drink.
    “I’ll take five,” Godfrey said, as the bartender, a towering, humorless Empire man, approached.
    “I don’t drink,” Merek said.
    Godfrey looked at Merek in surprise.
    “Then four,” Godfrey corrected.
    “Make it five,” Fulton chimed in. “I’ll drink yours.”
    “None for me, either,” Ario said. “I never drank before.”
    Godfrey, Akorth and Fulton looked at him in astonishment.
    “Never drank!?” Fulton said.
    “Then today’s your lucky day,” Akorth said. “You will drink with us. Keep it at five,” he said to the bartender. “In fact, make it six. I want double, too.”
    The bartender stood there, annoyed, then picked up the piece of gold and examined it, suspicious. Godfrey’s heart pounded as he looked down at him, scrutinizing him.
    “What gold is this?” he asked.
    Godfrey felt himself sweating under his hood. He thought quick, and decided to act indignant.
    “Should I take back my gold then!?” Godfrey demanded, gambling.
    The bartender stared him down, then finally, to Godfrey’s great relief, he must have decided that gold was gold. He placed it in his pocket, and shortly thereafter