The warrior let out a contemptuous laugh, but as he turned to open the door, Erienne thought she saw him shudder.
Denser sat at the end of a bench table full of men who, not many hours before, would have killed him. The barbarian, Hirad Coldheart, was not there. Seeing to their horses, Sirendor Larn had said. Denser shivered inwardly, laid down his fork across his half-eaten breakfast of meat, gravy and bread, and sipped at his coffee. His cat purred as it lay on the bench beside him, luxuriating in the warmth cast by the range of fires in the kitchens.
They’d been prepared to die then, at the barbarian’s sword. Their inner calm had been complete. And had they died, he in a crush of bone and his cat in a screaming mental explosion, the whole of Balaia might have died with them.
Denser looked up at The Unknown Warrior. They all still had a chance because of him. Him and the simple code The Raven had always followed. The reason why they above all other mercenary teams remained in demand, successful and so very effective. While killing was legal within the rules of battle, and in witnessed defence of self and others, outside of these boundaries it was murder. And The Raven, perhaps alone, had stood in battle lines for ten years with robbers, bandits, bounty hunters and other hired men little better than murderers, with their collective conscience clear.
There were plenty who said it was the total adherence to their code that made them strong and feared by opponents; and Denser had no doubt that the perpetuation of this myth helped them enormously. Mainly, though, he considered it was because while as individuals they were outstanding, if not brilliant, as a team they were simply awesome.
Yet it was the code that swung the balance when the cost of their hire was considered. It meant that their employers could expect the contract to be upheld and the battle to be fought by The Raven within the rules.
The Code: Kill But Never Murder.
So simple that many tried to live by it on taking up the career as a hired warrior or mage. But most lacked the discipline, intelligence, stamina or skill to keep true in the heat of battle, victory or retreat, and aftermath. And certainly none had done so for ten years without blemish.
It would be easy to cast them as heroes, but Denser had seen them fight more than once and what they were was, to him, obvious. They were a team of terribly efficient killers. Killers but not murderers.
But as Denser looked around the table at the men eating in silence, each walking the privacy of his own mind, he thought they looked tired, and a pang of fear flooded his gut lest they should ultimately refuse him.
Because he needed them. Xetesk needed them. Gods, all of Balaia would need them if the information the spies were sending back proved to be the prelude to the rising of the Wytch Lords. But could he convince them of what had to be done, and would Xetesk try to bring the Colleges together?
Despite the knowledge of what could be to come, Denser wondered whether he wasn’t facing his most difficult challenge now.
The Raven.
Even if they heard the truth, he was pretty sure it wouldn’t make any difference. They didn’t take a contract because they believed in the cause. In fact the cause was largely irrelevant. The job had to be made worth their while, worth their reputation and worth their attendance. Worth the risk. That’s why the truth was pointless, at least until he could hide it no longer. No compensation could possibly be worth the risks he would be asking them to face.
Denser took another mouthful of food. It was a great pity he hadn’t met The Raven in Korina as planned. There he might have been able to conceal his College identity for long enough. Their being part of Taranspike Castle’s defence hadn’t figured in Xetesk’s plans. Now he was truly up against it and right now he couldn’t even persuade Ilkar to let him pay them to ride with him to Korina, the City they were headed for anyway.
He glanced up and caught The Unknown’s eye. The warrior calmly held his gaze, swallowed his mouthful and pointed his knife at Denser.
‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Ever see a Dragon before?’
‘No,’ said Denser.
‘No. And what would you have done had Hirad not managed to distract it so effectively while you stole your prize?’
Denser smiled ever so slightly. ‘That is a very good question. We hadn’t planned on a Dragon being there.’
‘Clearly. My guess is you would have died.’
‘Possibly.’ Denser half shrugged. Actually he thought he would have been fine but he could see where the line was leading and it gave him a chance.
‘Definitely.’ The Unknown smeared a chunk of bread around his plate and then placed it carefully in his mouth. ‘There is an argument, therefore, that says we helped you take the amulet, however unwittingly.’
Denser inclined his head and refilled his mug from the copper pot on the table.
‘What sort of percentage did you have in mind?’
‘Five per cent of sale value.’
Denser blew out his cheeks. ‘That’ll be a lot of money.’
It was The Unknown’s turn to shrug. ‘Call it compensation for the death of a Raven man. Or for the countless nights we wake up shaking and sweating from the visions of what we saw in there. I don’t mind telling you, it took all the control I had not to turn and run.’
‘That would be a first ever,’ said Ilkar eventually into the void. The Unknown inclined his head.
‘He wouldn’t have been the only one,’ said Sirendor. More nods around the table mixed with the odd smile.
‘And none of you know the half of it.’ All heads turned to see Hirad standing in the doorway of the kitchen. He walked towards them slowly, his face drawn and pinched round the eyes.
‘You all right, Hirad?’ asked Sirendor.
‘Not really. I was outside remembering what Sha-Kaan said, and if that doorway was still there I’d be taking the amulet back to him.’
‘Why?’ Sirendor again, and Denser held his breath.
‘Something he said. About holding the portal from his world to ours and guarding something we shouldn’t have made. Whatever it was, he is angry now, so what if he chooses not to hold the portal any longer?’
‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about, Hirad.’ Sirendor for the third time.
‘Neither have I really,’ said Hirad. ‘Just that if we ever see a Dragon in the skies of Balaia, it’ll be the end for all of us.’
‘What do you mean, exactly?’ asked Denser.
‘What do you think I mean?’ snapped the barbarian. ‘We’ll all die. They are too powerful and there are too many of them. Trust me.’ He moved to the cooking pots and ladled himself some meat into a bowl.
‘Look. Going back a little.’ Deriser’s attention was once again on The Unknown Warrior. ‘I’ll agree to the five per cent if you agree to bodyguard me back to Korina.’
Ilkar swung round from where he had been staring at Hirad as if he had been slapped in the face. ‘I have already told you that we will not work for Xetesk.’ His voice was low, steady and certain.
‘Just exactly how much do you think that thing is worth, Xetesk man?’ asked Hirad.
Denser raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, though I can’t guarantee it, I think we’re talking in the region of five million truesilver.’ There was a brief pause of slack-jawed disbelief.
‘Well take the job.’
‘Hirad!’ snapped Ilkar. ‘You do not understand.’
‘It’s good money, Ilkar.’
‘It’s unbelievable, more like,’ said Talan. ‘That’s a quarter of a million truesilver for taking a passenger down a road we’re already travelling.’ Hirad just mouthed the figure.
‘You know something, Hirad, I just cannot believe that you of all people would agree to this. He all but had you killed.’ Ilkar’s tone bordered on contempt.