Serialized Pulp Novel: The Rogue and the Merchants (Part 15)

Here is serial 15 of my pulp novel, The Rogue and the Merchants. As usual, here is a link to the full transcription, thus far, if you want to know more about the project, the source of the manuscript, or the story of the novel's genesis. Also, all of the illustrations I've been composing are there as well: Pulp Novel Project: The Rogue and the Merchants


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The Rogue finished his meal and felt satisfied when the girl took his wastes away. She tossed the dregs out of the door and scrubbed his plate with hot water, saying nothing. And then she went to leave. As she turned to go, a realization dawned in the Rogue's mind: "I do not know your name, little one," he said timidly. He fell idly into a pile of cushions and furs. "Gods! It is wonderful to be fed and warm and to speak in a language that is understood! To come to know strangers!"

The girl chuckled lightly. But following quickly upon this she frowned gravely and sighed. "Call me Asha, though that is not my name."

The Rogue nodded, and she left.

He sat there for moment, listening to the fire crackling, contemplating her parting words.

He then began to fall asleep, having been made drowsy by the delicious food and the warmth of the fire. Just before the darkness took him--after he gripped his blade firmly to his chest--he thought of his companions, shivering in the cold of their tents, subsisting on bitter-root tea and trail bread. He could not help a merciless smile from spanning his lips.

He awoke to the murmuring voices of about three of the villager-men. Pale light rays slanted in through some tiny window slits had had not noticed during the night. He was not completely sure of his safety, and so he pulled his blade close, ready to strike if he needed to.

His eyes were half open when the cloth at the portal of his dwelling place was thrown aside, and he perceived the man from the previous, the man wearing the wolf cloak. He held a spear in his hand, but it was not ready for battle.

He woke the Rogue up with a clacking noise, and stood there, casually leaning on his spear. He motioned to the door flap where the rogue saw mustered three other warriors with spears and furs. The Rogue assumed they were ready for him to go and find his friends, but he was concerned that there were none in this party who he could communicate with. Throwing on his leather jerkin, buckling it rapidly, and then securing his curving dagger, he rose to meet them.