Aram the actor

Jason watched Aram amble along the pier toward the Valiant. As he approached the ship, a soldier came to the top of the gangplank. “You there,” the sentry called in a raised voice, “state your business.”

Aram shouted his reply. “Some seamen at the Broken Barge were bragging about sailing aboard an interceptor. Never seen one up close.” He started up the gangplank, swaying unsteadily.

“Now you’ve seen one,” the soldier said. “I must ask you to come no closer.”

Still walking, Aram waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t spoil a beautiful night! I just want a peek.”

“Turn around, sir. At once. This vessel is imperial property.” Three other soldiers had joined the first one at the top of the gangplank.

Aram kept coming, taking his time as if the steepness of the gangplank were tiring him. “Don’t be sour just because your mates are out having a good time. I wore your colors for a season, in service of the emperor. Never aboard a ship like this, mind you.”

All four of the soldiers drew swords. “I’m in command here,” a different soldier said, his voice stern. “If you wore our colors, you know our duty. You’ve been out too late, friend. You’re not thinking right. Go on home. Don’t make us remove you.”

Aram was now three-quarters of the way up the gangplank. He stumbled and fell forward. After lying still for a moment, he rolled onto his side. “More comfortable than it looks,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take a breather.”

“You will not,” the lead soldier said, sounding exasperated. “Get on your feet and shove off. Last warning.”

Aram let out a long moan. “I may have overdone it tonight, lads. Something I ate wants back out. I don’t think it means to come quietly.”

The lead soldier gestured for two of the others to approach Aram. They sheathed their swords and started down the gangway.

Aram began to sing, the words strained, halting, and somewhat off-key. “Old Ingrim was a man of the sea, the sort you’d hope to know. He’d buy you a drink if you shot him a wink, then tell you—”

Retching sounds interrupted his tune.

The two soldiers had reached Aram, but they paused, looking at each other. They spoke to Aram too quietly to be heard. Crouching, each grabbed an arm, grunting as they helped the huge man stand. Once they had Aram on his feet, they gazed up at him, clearly impressed by his size. One of them kept a hand on the hilt of his sword. The other kept a hand on Aram, steadying him.

“Don’t tell my wife about this,” Aram blustered. “The woman is hard enough to stomach when I mind my manners. Don’t send me home. I’d be safer in a nice cozy cell. Hear my advice, lads—if you’re ever tempted by marriage, get a dog instead. You’ll thank me.”

Aram took little wobbly steps without going anywhere, as if struggling to maintain his balance. He hunched, leaning from one side to the other, a hand on each of the soldiers for support. Then he doubled over, making retching sounds again.

Figures began to appear on the opposite side of the Valiant from the gangplank. They stealthily advanced on the soldiers from behind.

“This is disgraceful,” the lead soldier complained. “Walk him down to—”

His words were cut off as he was blindsided by attackers.

Chapter 8