Exiting the door past sleepy guards, Greenwillow swung unerringly toward the palace and river. "Do you know where you're going?" asked Sunbright.
"Not in particular. But fare and goods are usually simpler and cheaper the closer you get to the docks." They could see at least, for this far south, the late evening sky was luminous orange. The yellow moon showed gray blotches like distant mountain ranges. Sunbright had never seen it look so big. Lovers slipped by, kissing and giggling, and families strolled, and children played tag in the shadows. Prostitutes with red lanterns whistled to sailors, and watchmen called all was well. Greenwillow steered for a street lit by more torches above the doors than most.
"I expected more," the barbarian mused. "I thought the traders might be grateful we got them home safely, most of them at least. That their families would celebrate that they'd returned after so long, and we might be invited to recount some of the stories of how we saved their lives."
Greenwillow spat. "They'll remember only the bad, that several of their fellows died despite our efforts. We'll be lucky to get paid, and will probably have to camp on someone's doorstep to get anything at all." She peered over a bunch of revelers blocking a door. The tavern sign above showed a mighty arm clutching an axe. The elf sniffed and moved on.
Sunbright's stomach had growled at the smell of mutton and ale that wafted out in steamy clouds. "What was wrong with that place?"
"I prefer bars frequented by farmers or sailors, if I've a choice, but not one with a mix of patrons. Bring together carters and soldiers and sailors and porters and the insults fly and there's a fight and someone stumbles against your table and spills your broth and you have to break their heads before they'll buy you a new bowl. Trouble. Ah!"
In a short side street they found a place that held only six small tables and a short bar crowded with men and women in black robes with red and blue and yellow stripes around the sleeves. Sunbright found them oddly familiar, and Greenwillow explained, "Lawyers and clerks. They fight with words. And look you, decent women serving, which means none will be grabbed by the arse. Sit."
Although they collected curious glances, no one accosted them. Serving girls fetched them bowls of water and clean rags to wash their hands, then stale bread and ale to assuage their hunger until stew could be served. The warriors broke the bread and dunked it in their mugs. Sunbright relaxed so much he unslung his baldric and propped Harvester against the table. The clerks edged farther down the bar, but the barbarian didn't notice as he wolfed down his food. "So tell me again…"
"The short story is," recited Greenwillow, "that they cocked up, as Dorlas would put it. The delegation went to ask the Neth to stop the empire-building of the One King in Tinnainen. Which was stupid, you'll recall. That's like asking a lion to come amidst your flock and kill wolves. Since the Neth don't give a rat's ass whether groundling Dalekeva lives or dies, they fobbed the job back at the delegates, told them to go see the One King and order him to cease his depredations. Might as well stick your head in a noose and kick the bucket.
"Having limped back here and informed the council, the delegates whined that their job was done, they'd been through more than enough, and someone else should journey on to Tinnainen to bell the cat-see the One King and tell him to forget his dreams of empire. Naturally the council bounced it back, ordered the delegates to rest and continue on, but they refused, and no other fools volunteered, because no one wants to be transformed into a newt.
"So no one's going on this fool's errand. Everyone in this city will just keep his head down and pray to his gods that the One King invades somewhere else or chokes on a chicken bone and that the Neth forget they ever issued the order in the first place. Which they probably will. So everyone wasted his time running to Delia for help. Instead, as Dorlas said, they should have cooperated and declared martial law and drafted every healthy man into a city militia and raised taxes to support them and purchased arms and practiced them and beefed up the city's defenses and burned outlying farms and gathered in the crops and so on.
"Instead, when the One King arrives outside these walls, if he's got more than a thousand able men, I reckon he'll own the city within a day. Not by ramming down the doors, by the way, but because the same delegates will negotiate a surrender that allows the invaders to pillage some and rape a little and kill a few underlings. Such is history, more often than not. Fabled cities that fought invaders to the bitter end usually end up as ruins, of which I've seen a few. Fortunately, I won't be here to see the city fall."
Sunbright sliced mutton with his knife and gulped a hunk that would choke a wolf. "Where will you be?"
"Somewhere on the other side of the One King's army."
"Why?"
The elf slowed in carving meat with her dagger. Sunbright liked the way her slim hands worked, capable and strong but delicate. Now she sighed again. "I must journey to the court of the One King. I carry a missive for him from the court of the High Elves of Cormanthyr, who are distant cousins. My own fool's errand."
"Hunh." Sunbright munched, talking with his mouth full. "What does the missive say?"
She pointed her slim dagger. Her eyes were gray-green by candlelight, like deep-hued animate jewels. "I'll tell you what I told the council. My missive directs the One King to cease his empire-building, or else."
The barbarian didn't ask, Or else what? Instead, he swallowed and pronounced, "I'll go with you."
"You will?" Greenwillow was so surprised she dropped a chunk of meat. It landed in her bowl and splashed gravy on her chest. "Why should you? It'll be dangerous enough for me, but I'm an appointed emissary of a high court. You're just a freebooter. You might end up a… target."
Sunbright shrugged. His life was dangerous and had always been so. Distant threats didn't worry him. "We've fought together as comrades-in-arms. I can hardly let you continue alone after we've shared blood."
The elven warrior sat, hands poised, a softening expression on her exotic face until she looked almost like any simple woman alone in the world and far from home. "Well… That's very generous of you."
Missing her change of voice, Sunbright waved a hand. "It's nothing. A point of honor. Besides, I must journey to the One King's court myself, to gain information for Chandler back in Augerbend."
"Oh. Oh, I see." Greenwillow ducked her head and sawed her meat.
Finally, with typical male denseness, Sunbright sensed the frost in her voice. But of course it was too late to mend it, so they finished their meal in silence.
By the time they left the Bursting Book, the sky was fully dark. There were stars but no moon. Sunbright traced constellations with his finger. "There. The Panther rises. The time is right." He marched back toward the center of town.
Despite her coolness, Greenwillow fell in beside him. "For what?"
"I need to retrieve Dorlas's body before the wolves get it. Though I'll admit I don't know how to treat his carcass, whether to bury or burn it."
"You needn't do everything yourself, you know." In the darkness, he could see the pale shine of her face, but couldn't read her emotions. And too, they both had to watch their footing on the sometimes slimy cobblestones. "A city this size will have a fighters' guild. Part of their function is to see freebooters buried, their goods returned to their families if possible. They'll probably ask other dwarves to handle the funeral."
Sunbright mulled that over. If he'd died today, who would have buried him properly, who would have sent his effects home to his tribe wandering the tundra? He'd be lucky if anyone prayed his name as flames turned his muscle to smoke.
At the great locked gates leading to the farmlands, the guards were dubious about opening the night door. It existed to admit after-hours travelers, who were forced to walk a tight, long corridor where they would be subject to a rain of stones and quarrels. They feared the lone Netherese hunter on the golden dragon machine might still lurk in the woods. A group of Neth huntsmen had flown in earlier and retrieved the dead hunter and metal mount.