Выбрать главу

Jerdren shrugged. “Really? He impressed me. Think how long those bugbears held him, and somehow he kept himself fit and fed, ready to fight his way out if he got the chance.”

“I hope he will work off his rage against his captors, if he comes here,” M’Baddah said. “But against so many orcs—”

“Wasn’t so many as all that.” Hebold’s voice boomed out.

Eddis snarled a wordless curse as the man strode into the firelight.

“Lost most of my allies, worse luck, but I did all right myself. Just look here!”

He hauled a length of rope from his belt. Eddis peered at his hand, realized what she was looking at, and thrust Flerys behind her. Severed orc hands were strung on the rope.

The “hero” grinned at her proudly, then looked at Jerdren, his chest expanding.

“Jerdren, isn’t it?” Hebold asked. “Thought you might be camped hereabouts—this was the safest spot we found, anyway.” He brandished his trophy. “Proof of my kills.”

Eddis glared at him, her eyes narrow slits. “Get that mess out of this camp. Now!”

He stared at her blankly.

Eddis freed up a dagger and bared her teeth. “Far, far out of camp! Or you can take yourself back to that bugbear cell and lock yourself in, for all of me, but you won’t stay here!”

He took a step forward and scowled. Eddis held her ground, jaw set, and freed up another dagger.

“Woman,” he snarled, “where I come from, your kind tend fires, provide pleasure, and nurse babes.”

“Go back there, then,” Eddis overrode him. “In this company, Jerdren and I are equals. Captains. If you’re thinking of fighting with us, or even staying here the night, you’d better remember that.”

Hebold gazed down at her for a long, utterly still moment, then turned and strode from camp.

“Nice going, Eddis,” her co-captain said mildly. “He’s big and tough, a good fighter, and he knows more about these caves than we do. And you’ve alienated him.”

Blorys caught hold of her shoulders. “Are you mad, woman? He’s big enough to break you in half!”

“He won’t, Blor. Don’t you know? The gods protect the mad,” Eddis replied.

Blorys laughed quietly. Jerdren shook his head and went off after Hebold.

She sighed faintly. “I’m just glad we got all that silver out of sight before he showed up. I don’t trust him.”

She looked up as Jerdren laughed aloud He and the big man were standing together at the edge of the clearing, talking quietly. Trading exploits, no doubt. So long as they don’t trade stories where I have to listen to them, she thought. Or Flerys. She turned to look for the child and found her waiting quietly.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” she said. “I didn’t want you to see what he had.”

“Didn’t hurt,” Flerys replied. “I saw, but bandits took hands sometimes.” She shrugged. “Is just hands, not anything messy.” She shivered into her cloak as a cool breeze sprang up and went back to the fire.

Eddis glanced at Blorys. “Gods. That poor child. You think regular guard’ll be enough to keep an eye on that Hebold tonight—if he stays?”

“Oh, he’ll stay, all right,” Blorys said glumly. “But Jers’ll probably be up half the night, trading war stories with him.”

Near dawn Eddis was wakened by men shouting and a dash of weapons. She snatched up her sword, but Jerdren and two of the Keep spearmen were already on their way back to the fire. Jerdren grinned and wiped his bloody sword.

“Orcs,” he said as Eddis looked at him. “We killed three, and Hebold went after the last two.”

“Great,” she muttered and tugged the cloak around her shoulders. “They’ve found us.”

“If they were a scouting party, there won’t be any of ’em left to report what they found,” Jerdren replied. “It’s early, Eddis. Go back to sleep.”

When she woke again, it was full day. We’re waiting for the men from the Keep, she remembered. No fighting today—unless more orcs or other things come looking for us. Just as well, she thought as she sat up. Everything ached at the moment.

Jerdren had posted guards. She could see a spearman out there, pacing the road. A few others sat together talking quietly and honing their blades, and Flerys was getting another archery lesson from M’Baddah.

Across the firepit from where she lay, Jerdren and Blorys had Zebos’ map out. Hebold was looking over their shoulders.

“First place we went was there. Rumor had it the worst and toughest creatures were as far from the road as they could be, and that seemed a likely start. Turned out to be gnolls. Handful of coins, no gems that we found, and a pack of cowardly dog-monsters aren’t worth fighting.” He shrugged. “Next place we went was that hobgoblin lair, worse luck. Couple of my men were full of ’emselves for killing off gnolls, got too loud, and drew down an ambush on us. Lousy hobgoblins must’ve been lurking while we went in for the prisoners. They were waiting just short of the door when we came back.”

“Heard about that,” Jerdren said. “Still a bunch of ’em left, if you want to finish ’em off.” It wasn’t quite a question.

Hebold grinned. “May not have to bother. That hobgoblin—the one I shared a cage with, I told ’im the bugbear lair’s empty, and that their chief kept his treasure in chests, lots of ’em in the secret passage behind his bedroom. Fool creature believed me, too. That minotaur’ll do for ’em.”

“Could work.” Jerdren grinned.

“So—” Hebold stretched long and hard. “You find much trove so far?”

“Oh, you know. Few coins here and a few there. We sent most of it back to the Keep, of course.”

“Sounds foolish.” Hebold squatted on his heels next to the fire.

“Some fools we’d be if we buried it here and came back to find it gone.” Jerdren turned back to the map. “So… you’ve emptied that cave, and that one’s where the orcs were. And the small one here. Bugbears—here. Gnolls are gone, or as good as, and so’re the orcs, and your goblins are done for. We wiped out the kobolds, first day. What’s it leave us, then?”

The big man shook his head. “Didn’t get much chance to look around. Still… while back, late one night, I was trying to sleep, and I could hear one of the bugbears challenging someone. Then he backed away, and all of ’em looked flatout scared. Here comes this—figure. Black hood, cloak the color of dried blood. Never saw its face, but its voice gave me an unpleasant feeling. Said something in Common about sacrifices. Went to the other cage, looked in and said, ‘That one and that.’ Bugbears dragged out two of my men and hauled ’em up the stairs, and that hooded thing went off behind ’em.”

“A priest,” Panev murmured. He had come up quietly behind Eddis. “A black hood and red cloak, you’re sure of that, man?”

Hebold nodded.

“The curate may be right after all. He has heard rumor these past years—disquieting tales of men and women who travel along this road from the east, but they do not seek the Keep. He questioned the man Zebos, who said he had seen strangers who passed through his town, and all of them wore dark red cloaks. They did no business with the local merchants, he said, and never spoke to any but their own kind. The curate asked that I serve as priest in this company, rather than either of his acolytes, because he fears the red-cloaked ones to be part of a cult of the undead.”

“Undead?” Jerdren asked. “Why didn’t we hear of this before now?”

“Because it seemed unlikely to us that such a temple would be here—so far from any town. But if this man has seen the priest he describes, then I believe the temple must be nearby. Of the priests in the Keep, only the curate and I can turn powerful undead.”

“Turn?” Blorys asked. He looked bewildered.

“You cannot stab a skeleton to the heart—it has none. I have spells to force them away from me. From us. Or to unmake them.”