“All right, he’s not my boyfriend, but we’re only here for supplies,” Gredchen said as innocently as she could. “I’m on my way to North Keep. It’s that time of the year. I insist that you let us pass without further threat.”
The highmaster drifted slowly to the ground and swept her cloak behind her in a functional manner. “I’m amused that you think you’ve got any room for negotiation or threats, Gredchen,” she smiled. “I have spies and agents everywhere. There’s no other reason for you to be so far within the Sahket Jungle, which you know quite well is firmly in my territory, unless it’s got something to do with the Ergothian.”
She looked down at Theo, who still held his scythe in front of him. “And I can’t so much as spit in Pentar right now without hitting some minor sellsword or freebooter who would rat you out, Theodenes. Especially since the Monkey’s Ear burned to the ground. They’re talking about rebuilding it in the Floating Marketplace. Isn’t that clever? Right above the water, in case of future fires.”
Theodenes finally spoke. “I have relinquished my position as boss,” he declared haughtily. “I am presently under independent contract, and by Shinare’s seal, I am under no obligation to reveal any information not pertinent to the proper completion of the contract.”
Rivven tapped her foot angrily, glaring at the two irritants-bugs she would prefer to squash. “The Goddess of Oaths and Contracts has nothing to do with your mischief.”
“Are we under arrest?” Gredchen asked indignantly. “I’m asking because if not, I really would like to carry on my way. Legally. As I said.”
Rivven paused. “You really do have guts, don’t you? I would slap you if I didn’t think it might somehow improve your looks. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to let you go. I’m pretty sure you’re going to hook up again with the Ergothian at some point, despite what you claim, and when you do, you can tell him for me that he owes me for significant damages-some expensive draconian troops, some soldiers, and a valuable officer. Tell him that I got the ogres out of the way here, just for him. He might elude me today, but when he gets where he’s going, I’m going to be there waiting for him. And I’m going to collect.”
Gredchen frowned. “You sent Skerish away? Why would you do that?”
Rivven smiled. “I don’t like interference with my plans. Just tell him that it appears I have a vested interest in his career and that he’s going to have to either settle up with me or deal with the consequences.”
“I’ll tell him, but I don’t think he’s going to be any more trusting of you than I am.”
Rivven lifted her shoulder plates in a shrug. “I really don’t care. I’ll be in touch. And Gredchen?”
The baron’s aide and the gnome had begun to back slowly away, keeping the highmaster and her two ghouls in sight. Gredchen said, “What now?”
“Say hello to the baron’s beautiful daughter for me when you see her.”
Gredchen let out a small gasp but quickly recovered enough to furrow her brow. She didn’t say another word, instead turning and walking forcefully down the street and away from the highmaster. Theodenes, glancing warily over his shoulder, trailed behind, stopping only long enough to grab a handful of items from abandoned shop front carts and windowsills.
The highmaster watched them leave, then turned to the two remaining ghouls. “What are you two monsters looking at? Pick up a shovel. There are bodies lying all over this street.” She walked off, leaving the ghouls to clean up the mess.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vanderjack was dreaming.
He was back on the island of Southern Ergoth, in the lands of the refugee elves during the war. Winter had claimed so much of the region, frosting the evergreens and encrusting the grassy foothills of the Last Gaard Mountains with ice. It could be overwhelming, the cold, and more bitter and pervasive than anything he’d felt in the north.
He was in his old mercenary outfit, with his old mercenary buddies: the kender, Danilo Findabuck; the men from Coastlund, Antor and Claustin, with their stolen Solamnic swords; Agate Splintergem, the dwarf outcast from Kayolin who’d killed his own father for selling out to the dragonarmies. He vividly remembered asking Agate if it was still fratricide if you were already regarded as a fatherless dwarf, and Agate had just glowered and told him to watch his lousy human mouth. Those were the days.
In his dream, they were with him again, just as they were for three years, in and out of service with the Solamnics and the dragonarmies. They were the band he’d been traveling with when he met Theo. That was the place where it had all started. Or rather, that was where it ended.
Vanderjack never found the Treasure of Huma. He’d gone looking for it and signed on with the elf refugee kingdom-some old regent named Belthanos had actually paid his band steel coins to help them kill ogres and track down a missing Kagonesti elf woman-just as an excuse to get closer to the legendary tomb in which the knight was said to be buried. He’d combed the foothills and mountain passes looking for the right place, somewhere known as Foghaven Vale if his sources were right. He’d never made it.
Theodenes had fallen into some trouble near Daltigoth, and being as Vanderjack was supposed to be fighting ogres (it was in his contract, after all) and was in the area at the time, it wasn’t hard to convince his band to help the poor gnome out. The gnome had some strange cat with him, a kitten he said, although it was about as big as a large dog. No problem, said the band. Can’t go wrong with a kitten as big as a dog and teeth as long as steak knives.
Then everything went south. After they saved the gnome, they’d all been drinking ale and telling stories around the campfire. Next morning, they did the usual scouting of the area, with Vanderjack and Theo getting acquainted and sharing theories about the location of the tomb. When everybody got back together, something was amiss. None of them talked about the Treasure of Huma or even about the Kagonesti woman they were on the lookout for.
It happened again the following day and the next. In his dream Vanderjack relived that lack of caution, the almost constant drinking. He had the Sword Chorus to help him in a fight, so he always sent the others off to scout around, poke their noses into avenues of interest. His dreaming mind saw the change coming over his companions and how it hadn’t even registered with him. He dreamed of telling Theodenes that it was all right, he’d watch Star for a few hours while Theo scaled a cliff face and examined the signs of possible ancient ruins. He saw himself simply wander off, a flask in hand, whistling merrily. He saw himself not anticipating what happened next.
The others had returned. Theodenes was a hundred feet up, and Star was at the base of the cliff, and there were Danilo and Claustin and Antor. Agate came up the rear. Vanderjack’s dreaming self saw them, even as he saw himself sprawled somewhere not far away, draining the last of his drink and ignoring the Sword Chorus’s warnings. He saw them shift and change and grow in height. He saw the sivak draconians, for that was what they were, closing on Star. Red markings on their armor, wickedly serrated swords, and-
Vanderjack awoke with a start. Daylight still washed the clearing in radiant green, stirring up the humidity of the jungle, reflecting on the brass scales of the dragonne not twenty feet away. “Ackal’s Teeth,” he said, shaking himself out of the daze.
The dragonne was awake too. “You made a lot of oaths to the founder of Ergoth,” Star said in his deep voice, “when you were dreaming.”
“I never dream,” the sellsword said, pulling himself into a sitting position. He felt his ribs gingerly. The pain had substantially subsided. The poultice and bandages seemed to have worked miracles, at least as an anesthetic. “Almost never. I think I had a dream last year when I ate some bad goulash in Kalaman, but this was different.”
Star rumbled. “Omens, perhaps.”