"Again with the elite guard." Liam didn't understand any of this. "Why are you doing this to me? What is so special about me?"
"You have passion. You genuinely believe in what you are doing, and you care about the well-being of the citizens of Ahlarkham. I could use a man like that."
"How?"
"Well, for one thing, if you were to join us it would add a lot of legitimacy to the guard that is currently lacking. You and the Awl have done a pretty good job convincing the people of Duhlnarim that we're a no-good bunch of despots."
Liam couldn't help but feel a small amount of pride swelling in his chest. To hear from the baron's own mouth that his work had made some impact was a heartwarming thing.
"And you want me to switch sides and tell my friends and family that I was wrong all this time. Is that it?"
Purdun nodded. "The people listen to you. If they see you-a man they look to for leadership, a man they trust-put his own faith in me and the elite guard, then I believe they will follow suit."
"Well," responded Liam, "thanks to you, they no longer believe I'm on their side."
"Your reputation has been called into question with the compromised leadership of the Crimson Awl, not with the people at large."
"You stand here and tell me incredible stories about a vampire who wants you out of power, saying that I don't understand the forces at work. But it is you who don't understand." Liam shook his head. "The Crimson Awl is the people at large. This isn't some bought-and-paid-for group of thugs or mercenaries. The members of the Awl are the people who suffer daily under your heavy-handed taxation and your brutal guardsmen. They are one and the same."
"Fine, say what you will. There are other reasons I want you to join the elite guard."
"Like?"
"Of all the members of the Awl I could approach, you are the only one I am completely convinced is not in cahoots with Shyressa."
"What makes you so sure?" Liam shot back. "Your story is starting to come apart. If the Awl really are being manipulated, why would you think you could trust me?"
"Simply put, it's because no man fights as hard as you do unless he truly believes he's right. If you were in the vampire's employ, you wouldn't carry so much conviction."
Liam stood up. "I fight you as hard as I do because I find you despicable."
"Calm down." The baron made a gesture with his hands like he was pushing a cloud toward the floor. "Don't you see a compliment when it's given to you?"
"Your words are poison. No matter what you say, you will never convince me that you are a good man."
Purdun threw his hands in the air. "Why won't you listen to reason?"
"Because I refuse to believe that the man who killed my brother can be reasonable."
Purdun's face turned very serious. "It was not my blade that killed your brother."
"It might as well have been," Liam raised his voice. "It was your fault we were out there that morning. It was your order that put those men inside the carriage. And it was your money that paid for the steel that cut him through the gut. You are as guilty as any one of your murderous guards."
Purdun stood up. His fair skin was flushed red. His fists were clenched so tight they shook, and the skin on his knuckles had turned white.
"Your brother attacked one of my carriages. He killed five of my men. Men who had families. Men whose lives were at least as precious as his own." Purdun glared at Liam. "In my opinion, your brother got what he deserved."
Liam lunged at Purdun. This was the second time he'd tried to attack the feudal lord inside his own private chambers. It was also the second time he found himself dangling from his tunic, held off the ground by one of the baron's half-giant bodyguards.
Purdun shook his head as he looked up at Liam. Then he turned toward the door and shouted, "Captain Beetlestone."
The doors flew open, and the guard captain came into the room. "Yes, my lord."
"Take this man to the dungeon." He glared one last time at Liam, then turned and walked toward the door on the other side of the room. "Maybe the rats can talk some sense into him."
Ryder marched up the steep-walled canyon that lead into the Giant's Run Mountains, limping the entire way. Every step seemed another lesson in agony. They were escorted by the bandits on horseback, none of whom talked during the trip. The carriage that Purdun's guard had been protecting was packed full of the wounded and the freed prisoners who simply couldn't walk any farther.
Beside Ryder, just as when they had marched from Duhlnarim, walked the tattooed Nazeem. There were no chains binding them together, but they traveled side by side nonetheless.
As they walked, Ryder tried to think about things other than the pain that sank through his flesh and seeped into his bones. If he focused too much on the bruises and wounds, they became unbearable, so he thought about his home and his family. He longed to be back there with his lovely wife. He could see her long dark hair and those beautiful blue eyes. It pained him to think of her alone. He knew that Liam would look after her, and there was a small consolation in that. He vowed as he traveled that as soon as he was able, he would find a way to get home.
"Ryder." Nazeem's voice brought him out of his daydreaming and back to the painful reality of climbing up the mountain pass.
"Yes."
"Why do you think the guards were carrying so much treasure?"
Ryder hadn't thought about it until the tattooed man pointed it out. "I'm not sure. Perhaps they intended to trade for something in Westgate."
Nazeem nodded. "Yes, but they had all of us to trade. Had we made it there, they could have easily auctioned us for several thousand gold apiece."
"So, they could have gotten a lot of money for us," said Ryder, tugging at his torn pants, trying to make his journey just a little more comfortable. "Maybe they wanted something even more valuable than slaves."
Nazeem shook his head. "In the Pirate Isles, few things are more valuable. The merchants in Westgate know this. It's just a short trip out to the islands from their port. No, with that kind of money, Purdun could have purchased the fastest warship in the Shining Sea." Nazeem chuckled. "In some places, he could have bought himself a small castle-or an army of mercenaries."
Ryder looked at his companion. "How do you know all this?"
Nazeem smiled. "I am a criminal," he said pointing at the tattoo on his forehead. "I know this sort of thing."
Ryder pointed to his own forehead. "What does this mean?"
Nazeem rubbed the blue triangle with his index finger. "This is the mark they give you in Mezro when you break the law."
"Mezro? You are Chultan then?"
Nazeem nodded. "Born and bred."
"What were you doing all the way out in Erlkazar?"
Nazeem smiled. "I have told you this already. I was a smuggler."
Ryder chuckled. "Yes, I know. But why did you leave Chult? Why go so far from home?"
"Mezro is a peaceful city. No one there even carries a weapon. If the undying Chosen of Ubtao catch you breaking the law, they brand you with this tattoo and throw you out of the city." Nazeem's smile faded. "I had to leave the Chultan peninsula in order to survive. No one will deal with you if you have been shamed by this mark. So I decided to go someplace where nobody knew or cared what it meant."
The two men walked on for a while in silence. Then Ryder spoke up. "Nazeem?"
"Yes?"
"What was your crime?"
Nazeem seemed to think about the question for a moment. Then, "I killed a man."