Page 17 of The Tricksters Deception

“Uh, we don’t have a King, not in my country.”

“Then who makes the rules?”

“It’s a little complicated.” I probably could have spent time explaining it, but there were other things I want to talk about.

“Why don’t you know how to saddle a horse? Or fight? I mean I assumed you were some kind of maid but even maids can saddle a horse.” If I wasn’t already feeling quite useless, I certainly was now.

“No one really knows how to saddle up a horse in the city, no one owns horses. Or donkeys, or whatever else you use for travel. We have cars that use an engine, not horses. I can’t fight with a sword because the last time people carried a sword around was probably well over a century ago! You can’t pick on me for that, I’m completely average in my world, I’m normal.” The statement made me feel a little pathetic. I really wasn’t anything special, if anything I’m just a typical orphan. Most of my time is spent busking with poor magic tricks and night shifts at a convenience store, writing happily-ever-after fantasy fiction that is read by a bunch of people that spend all their time on the internet. Who was I kidding?

“Okay.” Corvu responds. And that’s all he says. I don’t know how to respond in this kind of situation. My only choice was to get to the capital city as fast as I could, I just hoped we were nearly there.

“So with horses now we should make it in no time, right?” I ask,

“Well, faster than by foot at least.”

“How long till we get to the capital anyway? Are we at least halfway there?” He laughs at that, so hard in fact his hood falls backward.

“Unless you want to travel all day and night, even with horses we will still take another couple weeks or so to get there.” What did he just say?

“Weeks? Like multiple? Are weeks different here or are they usually seven days for you as well? Like are you kidding me?”

“Do you count the days where the sun rises and the sut sets?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, weeks.”

“I’m stuck here for weeks?” I exclaim. I can feel my mouth gaping open and yet for some reason I wasn’t closing it. “I’m not going to have a proper shower or use an actual bathroom for another month? What if I catch an infection and die. I don’t think my body can take this. I’m more fragile than I look!”

“You look pretty fragile to me.” Corvu mumbles beneath his breath.

“I’m not ready to die! You guys probably still have plagues and killing people just seems second nature to you - no one would think twice about killing me-”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He interjects. I stop for a moment and look at him. “Okay, before you continue your rant, no one that knows you have the amulet will try and kill you. The amulet won’t grant its power to someone who takes it from you. So as long as you don’t give it up, no one will kill you.” When I hear this I let out the biggest sigh of relief. I might die from an infection but at least no one will try and cut my head off. “They may torture you and kill your travelling party though. So at the moment Gecko and I will likely be the only ones to die on this adventure. Should you give up the amulet to try and save us, though heroic, would be stupid.”

“Why would that be stupid?”

“Because an Orc would never keep their word and spare us in trade for the amulet, as soon as you hand it to one, you’re as good as dead.” That didn’t make me feel any better.

“Why don’t I just give it to you and then travel with you up to the capital to figure out how to use it. You’d be better at protecting it.” Although I didn't plan on it, I'm interested in his answer in being offered the amulet.

“Because it was given to you and to be honest I wouldn’t want that kind of bounty on my head.”

“Well,” I sigh, “, as long as you’re honest.” At this point he smiles at me, this time much gentler than his usual cocky grin. My stomach rumbles as the sun grows hotter, unfortunately it wasn’t very quiet.

“Really? We just ate last night.” He sighs, leaning over to the other side of his horse where I was unable to see, and pulls out what looks to be one of those mystery oranges I tried yesterday. I accept it without a second thought.

“Thanks.”

“Do you eat frequently where you’re from too?”

“Just the usual three times a day.” I grumble. As I start to open the orange he looks at me strangely. “What? Breakfast, lunch and dinner, that’s three times a day.”

“Oh, I think I got it.” He snaps his fingers, as if a puzzle he’d been trying to work on was finally complete in his mind. “Are you some kind of royal where you’re from? That would probably explain a few things, including the habit of eating breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

I almost roll my eyes at the thought. “I’m not royal, I’m an orphan, I don’t even know who my parents are.” I finish pulling apart the orange and take a bite. With a chunk sitting in my cheek I respond, “I just work hard and earn money, I make my own way in life and eat like a proper young lady.”

“Proper young ladies talk with food in their mouth where you’re from?”

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