“He may already have left Pentar,” Rivven said, waving Cear away. The dragon’s head rose up again, out of sight above her. “I’m tired of being one step behind this man, and if he’s already hooked up with the gnome, then I can only imagine he’s headed east.”
Rivven pushed open the door to the Monkey’s Ear. Inside, a handful of mercenaries who had been foolish enough to come back once Annaud and his men had gone off in search of Vanderjack were sitting around a table, plainly upset at being discovered by the highmaster.
Even without the great helm, she was a frightening woman when she wanted to be. “You men have a new employer,” she said, stopping before them with her hands on her hips. “New contracts, new uniforms.”
One of the mercenaries cleared his throat. “No disrespect, Highmaster, but we’ve got legally binding contracts with the gnome. Shinare’s seal on them and all.”
Rivven smiled, no trace of humor in it. “And you are signatories to those documents, correct?” The men nodded.
“Then you should know that you can, under Shinarite code, voluntarily excuse yourself from such a contract citing irreconcilable differences.”
The mercenary who had spoken first spoke again. “Begging your pardon, and I’m not sayin’ you’re wrong or anything, but what differences would those be?”
Rivven said, “Here’s one,” and with one swift, sure stroke, she drew the curved scimitar from her back and removed the first mercenary’s head from his shoulders, sheathing the weapon again before it hit the floor.
The other mercenaries hurriedly searched through their pouches, knapsacks, and pockets for their contracts.
Rivven stalked off to the bar, helping herself to a drink while she waited for the collection of ragtag mercenaries to sort themselves out. The Ergothian had eliminated all of her current employees in the town, even Captain Annaud. She needed a fresh set of eyes, ears, and sword arms.
Turning around at the bar and leaning back, she pointed a thin finger at one of the more professional-looking hired swords before her. “You. Congratulations. You’re my new captain. In a few minutes, some local people I paid well are going to show up here with a few … used dragonarmy uniforms. Put them on, pack up all of your gear, and get ready to head out.”
The new captain saluted nervously and immediately started ordering the others around, going over travel details. Rivven smiled, looking at the headless body on the tavern’s wooden floor. Discipline, she thought. It’s all about discipline. She walked outside the tavern with her mug of beer and called up to her dragon.
“Give them another twenty minutes,” she said. “Then set fire to the place.”
Her business at the Monkey’s Ear Tavern attended to, Rivven Cairn went off in search of a good fish vendor.
CHAPTER NINE
Vanderjack tightened the straps on his new magical armor and fastened his cloak around his shoulders.
Theo and Gredchen were poring over a map, practically fighting each other to see who would retain hold of the yellowed parchment. The baron’s aide had the advantage of height, but Theo was quick and wily, and by the time Vanderjack walked back to them, the gnome had claimed more than two-thirds of the map.
“What do you think?” asked Vanderjack, showing off his new acquisition-the finely crafted scale mail, with its attached shoulder plates and leather accents. “I’ve worn dragonarmor before, but never as nice as this.”
Gredchen looked at him with disgust. “I can’t believe you actually took that from Captain Annaud’s corpse,” she said. “Besides, every suit of dragonarmor’s made for a specific individual. It won’t fit you properly.”
Theodenes shrugged, looking up from his map. “The armor seems to have decided quite the opposite,” he said.
“It’s definitely magical,” Vanderjack grinned. He shifted from one fighting stance to the other and ended with a little dance. “Snug as a glove and light as a feather! Worthy payment for having to fight the man.”
“Not that fighting him accomplished anything more than attracting attention and killing that poor cook,” Gredchen reminded him. “And if you haven’t noticed, at least some of Pentar’s been burning for the past eight hours.”
Vanderjack looked back in the direction of Pentar, at least a dozen miles away at that point. A plume of black smoke was rising into the sky. He’d seen many of those before, during the war. It was the calling card of the red dragons.
“We’ve put plenty of distance between them and us,” Vanderjack said. “And I’ve already said over and over I feel badly about the cook. Badly, I feel so badly. Theo, haven’t I already said I feel so badly about him?”
“I don’t believe you,” Theo said sulkily. “And that’s going to count against you when it’s time to pay up. Now, if you don’t mind, we have ascertained something of a route.”
Gredchen didn’t lose her disgusted expression as she exhaled and indicated a point on the map. “This is one of Baron Glayward’s maps from about twenty years ago,” she said. “Before a few places were established, or burnt to the ground by the dragonarmy. Here’s where we are, a half day’s journey from Pentar.” She looked up and pointed past Vanderjack at the line of trees several hundred yards away. “And that’s the edge of the Sahket Jungle.”
“It’s a mile away according to this,” Vanderjack said, looking at the scrawled notes on the parchment. “Is it growing bigger or something?”
Theo rubbed his hands together. “Yes, it’s quite fascinating,” he said. “The Sahket Jungle is, by all accounts, growing at a steady rate. In the next few decades, it will meet the coastline and cover almost all of the northern regions of Nordmaar.”
“Fantastic,” said Vanderjack, lifting one eyebrow. “Even if the Red Wing’s not gone by then, the rainforest will have taken over.”
“According to the map,” Gredchen continued, “the town of Willik’s about twenty or thirty miles that way”-she pointed away from the setting sun-“which puts Castle Glayward roughly the same distance again afterward. We may just have enough supplies to get us to Willik.”
Vanderjack frowned. “Isn’t that Cheron Skerish’s little town? It’s bad enough he’s an ogre, but I’ve heard he’s also some kind of shaman. My vote’s for Rangaar, here.” He pointed to a small dot about five miles east of where Willik was, deep in the jungle. “Nothing dangerous in Rangaar, I hear. Just a lot of spice merchants.”
“You’re afraid of ogres, Vanderjack?” Gredchen teased. Vanderjack observed that when she actually smiled, there was a faint hint that somewhere in her family tree there had to be somebody at least reasonably attractive. Of course, then she’d drop her smirk, and return to being one of the ugliest creatures, this side of a hobgoblin, that Vanderjack had ever traveled with.
Gredchen pointed once again at Willik. “Rangaar’s fine, but it won’t have what we need, and all of these towns are in red dragonarmy territory, so there’s never a guarantee. Trust me; we should go to Skerish’s town.”
Theodenes snatched the map away a final time and held his face very close to it. “My estimate is that in our current position, it will take us five days to get there.”
“That’s factoring in the jungle?” Vanderjack asked.
“Quite,” said Theodenes, “though there is a good road east. It leads through the Sahket Jungle, into Willik, continues past that town to Rangaar and, finally, North Keep.”
“I like a good road,” Vanderjack said. “That works for me. Let’s go.”
The three of them gathered their few belongings together and fell into line on the road leading into the Sahket Jungle. Theodenes walked ahead of Vanderjack and Gredchen, swifter than his little legs would suggest he could, his keen gnome eyes picking out potential problems in the dirt path such as quicksand puddles or the spoor of a dangerous animal.