Sabira sat at a table on the west side of the Bogwater, tapping her foot impatiently while she waited for Lille to arrive. She’d recovered from her three-day hangover and found a few jobs at the tavern to help replenish her dwindling store of sovereigns. But trollhunting for that arrogant Aratrix and laying Lady Nepenthe’s son to rest only paid so much. She was never going to have what she needed to pay Sollego back by Lharvion at this rate. She needed help, and Lille owed her for that business with the pirates. Sabira still had the scar to prove it, on the back of her leg where that wretched kobold had tried to hamstring her.
The fact that Lille was virtually the only person in House Deneith who was still speaking to her was completely beside the point.
When the Deneith sergeant did finally show up, though, she wasn’t alone. A white-bearded dwarf dressed in a purple shirt and a finely brocaded red vest accompanied her.
“Sergeant,” Sabira said, rising from her chair as the two approached.
“Mar—Sabira,” Lille replied, clearly uncomfortable. “This is Arach d’Kundarak. He might have some work for you, if you’re willing to leave Stormreach for a few days.”
Sabira gestured for them to sit before retaking her own seat.
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve got an airship leaving for Sharn tomorrow afternoon with a hold full of dragonshards. I’ve got my own guards, of course, but one of them suffered an unfortunate injury on the docks last night and I haven’t the time to find a suitable replacement. Lille, here, mentioned she knew someone who might fit the bill, but I wanted to see for myself.”
The dwarf looked her up and down, taking in her burnt armor, the fresh scars on her jaw and hand, and the tip of the shard axe peeking over her shoulder.
His blue eyes lingered on the weapon, first widening in surprise and then narrowing in suspicion.
“The sergeant didn’t tell me she was offering the services of the famed Shard Axe,” he said dubiously. By Dol Dorn’s rusted codpiece, how Sabira hated that name! And how it followed her wherever she went, even to the wilds of Xen’drik. Best end this before he demanded the whole Hostforsaken story behind it.
“Probably because she didn’t know she was. It’s not something I like to advertise. Better to be unknown, and underestimated, don’t you think?”
The dwarf grunted grudging assent.
“But I thought the Shard Axe was a Marshal …?”
Sabira’s chin lifted as she met his distrusting stare.
“Was being the operative word. I spent two years in the Blademarks, another four in the Defender’s Guild, and seven as a Sentinel Marshal, and you already know what I did to earn my brooch. I should think my credentials speak for themselves.”
“Indeed,” the dwarf answered, putting up a staying hand. “You are more than qualified for this task. Which then begs the question: Is it even worth your time?”
Sabira shrugged, feigning nonchalance. What wasn’t worth her time, at this point?
“Give me your terms, and I’ll let you know.”
“They’re simple enough. Five dragons to accompany the cargo to Sharn. Of course, you’ll have to find your own way back to Stormreach, but with that much platinum in your pocket, I don’t see that being a problem.”
Now it was Sabira’s turn to be suspicious. Five platinum dragons just to babysit an airship full of dragonshards? What wasn’t he telling her?
“You expecting an attack?”
“I always expect an attack. That way I’m never caught unprepared.”
The dwarf motioned at a passing serving girl, and it was then that Sabira caught sight of his fingers, which had been in his vest pockets while he walked and then hidden under the table in his lap. Until now.
Though unadorned, each finger showed indentations and a band of slight discoloration at its base.
By itself, it meant nothing. Many people wore rings on every finger, and many people chose not to wear them when they traveled inside the city. But Sabira had spent years in the Holds, and she knew better than most what those markings represented, at least on a wealthy dwarf trying to hire a guard at an unreasonably high price.
Arach was a member of the Aurum. Without the actual rings, there was no telling how high up the chain he was, but one thing was certain. If even half the things she’d heard about the ostensibly scholarly (but probably criminal) organization were true, he was someone she should be arresting, not working for.
Someone she would be arresting, if she were still a Marshal.
But she wasn’t. She was just a down-on-her-luck mercenary now, and she couldn’t afford to turn her nose up at the kind of money he was offering, regardless of the blood it was probably drenched in.
“All right. I’m in.”
“Excellent!” Arach declared, sticking out his hand toward her. “You can meet up with the rest of my crew at the airship tower in the Kundarak enclave. Be there by the fourth bell; the ship will depart soon after. You’ll get the first half of your payment once you’re in the air and the second half once the ship docks safely in Sharn.”
“How will I know which airship is yours?” Sabira asked, shaking the proffered hand.
Arach smiled, as if at some private joke.
“Oh, you’ll know.”
Then he looked past Lille and waved at someone. As he stood to excuse himself, Sabira turned to see to whom he’d been motioning. An aristocratic elf woman was approaching them, her bright red hair piled atop her head in a fashionable coif. She nodded at Arach, but did not stop to speak to him, instead moving past them to take a chair at another table, just out of earshot.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Arach said. “You’re not the only appointment I have today.”
“Of course,” Lille murmured, the first thing she’d said since introducing them.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Sabira added, standing. She watched the dwarf walk over to the redhead’s table, and then she turned back to grab Lille’s wrist just as the other woman was trying to slip away.
“Leaving so soon, Lille? We’ve barely had a chance to catch up.”
The Deneith woman jerked her hand away.
“Sabira, it’s bad enough I’m here at all, in the middle of the day, where anyone can see me! Greigur made it very clear that we’re not to help you in any way. I’m only here because of what you did for me in the Heights. I haven’t forgotten what I owe you—and I won’t—but do really you want to see me excoriated for it?”
Sabira had suspected as much. You didn’t turn your back on the highest honor House Deneith could bestow and expect there to be no repercussions for it. She was lucky Greigur hadn’t put a price on her head.
Yet.
“Go. I don’t want to get you in trouble. I just wanted to say … thank you.”
“Anything for the vaunted Shard Axe,” Lille replied with a quick, sardonic grin, and then she turned and hurried from the tavern, leaving Sabira well and truly alone.
Since Arach’s airship wasn’t leaving until tomorrow and she didn’t trust the dwarf farther than she could throw him, Sabira decided to do a little pre-mission reconnaissance. She headed for the House Kundarak stronghold on the opposite side of the Marketplace, taking care to steer clear of any place frequented by Deneith mercenaries. Someone trying to curry favor might easily take Greigur’s order not to help her as an invitation to actively hinder her, and she could do without that sort of trouble right now.
As she walked along Silversmith Road, the overcast sky finally delivered on its promise and cold gray rain sheeted down, soaking her through in moments. She didn’t bother seeking cover or even pulling up the hood of her cloak; the cloudburst would be over as quickly as it had begun, and in this oppressive heat, she’d be dry again in no time. Well, as dry as anyone ever got on this Hostforsaken jungle continent.