draconian made a sort of gargled snarl in an effort to intimidate the woman, but Vanderjack didn’t think it was having its intended effect.
“I’ll be right with you,” Vanderjack said mildly, turning to face off against the other bozak. Where was he? Another warning from the Conjuror allowed the mercenary to sidestep a fan-shaped gout of flames and close with the astonished draconian. Vanderjack drove his sword through the bozak’s midsection before the draconian could bring its sword up to block the killing stroke. Remembering the way in which bozaks die, he leaped clear of his slain foe just as the creature’s flesh shriveled away and its exposed skeleton began to smolder. Moments later, the bones exploded, flooding the courtyard with a monstrous green light.
A second explosion, just like the first, drew Vanderjack’s attention back to Gredchen. She had managed to end the life of the bozak she’d been wrestling with, and the look of shock and soot on her face was evidence enough to Vanderjack that she hadn’t faced a bozak’s death throes before.
“Should have warned you about that,” he said. “Nice work. Rolled over on its own sword, did it?”
Gredchen, who seemed mostly unhurt, though rattled from the blast, gave the sellsword a pained look. “Let’s just get out of here,” she said.
“You’ll get no argument from me.” He grinned and followed her through the trees toward the road to Pentar, quite aware that the noise they made in the courtyard would not have gone unnoticed.
Theodenes sat in a high-backed chair in his new office in the Monkey’s Ear, going over a pile of paperwork. His poleaxe was within arm’s reach, which for a gnome was about half the reach of the chair’s former occupant. Theo was drawing up his to-do list.
After only one day of being the newest recruiter in Pentar, Theo was already starting to realize that the position called for a great deal of bookkeeping. His cousin Thermocouplet was the family accountant, and Theo considered sending for him. All gnomes knew something about numbers, but the gang’s books were an order of difficulty higher than anything Theo had had to worry about before.
Unfortunately, Theo’s family had largely disowned him, being a mad gnome and all.
“Sir,” inquired a voice from the door. “I know it’s early, but there’s some recruits here for the muster.”
“Yes, quite right. Send them in.”
Theodenes knew he looked awkward in the overlarge chair, but he could manage a convincing enough look of professionalism when called to do so. As the three ne’er-do-wells came into the room, he lit a cigar and spun slowly around to face them.
The three men stared at the little cigar-smoking gnome seated behind the desk.
“Is there something the matter?” asked Theo, keeping his voice as deep and low as he could. “You look as if you’ve never seen a gnome in charge of an operation like this before.”
“Begging your pardon, sir,” said one. “I don’t think we have.”
Theo studied the recruits. The one who had spoken was an unshaven lout with a shock of dirty blond hair and sailor’s trews. The man next to him had Nordmaaran blood, by the look of him, and if the barbarian leathers were any indication, he more than likely had just come off the plains. The last was a pale, pudgy, nondescript sort of character, the kind Theo used to see a lot back west-definitely not a local.
“Be that as it may, I am the new recruitment officer of this organization, owing to a recent change in leadership. My name is Theodenes. Learn it well!”
The blond sailor cracked a smile. Theo snapped his fingers, and one of the Seaguard loomed from out of the shadows. The blond sailor instantly regretted it.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean-”
“Cletus,” said Theodenes. “This one isn’t going to work out.”
The Seaguard dragged the blond sailor from the room by another door. The two remaining recruits looked terrified.
“You,” asked Theo, pointing at the Nordmaaran. “What skills can you bring this organization?”
“I rode with the Quetzal Raiders in the War, under Tlaloc of the Blade,” said the Nordmaaran. “I slew twenty men. I tracked a manticore in the hills alone and brought it down. I climbed Mount Brego with my brothers to seek the oracles and brought wisdom back to my chieftain. I-”
Theo waved his cigar. “All very exciting,” he said, “but not what we’re looking for.”
Cletus had stepped back into the room. Theo looked in his direction. “Cletus, this one’s not working out either.”
The Nordmaaran raised his hands. “I’ll see myself out.”
“An excellent decision.” Theo nodded. He looked at the third and final recruit. “You there. Solamnic, I take it?”
“Yes, sir. From the Solanthus area.”
“Marketable skills?”
The pudgy Solamnic cleared his throat. “Two seasons with the Third Crown Infantry, and one with the Eighth Sword Lancers.”
Theodenes frowned. “Never heard of them.”
“Not very active in these parts, sir.”
“Well, I don’t really need any more retired Solamnic soldiers. Can you do anything else?”
“Well, I …”
“How about cooking?”
The man coughed. “Cooking? Why, yes, sir.”
“Really? You don’t sound so sure.”
“No, no. It takes me by surprise is all. Cook? Absolutely, sir.”
Theo looked over at Cletus and back again to the Solamnic. “Do you handle poultry, pork, lamb, venison, beef, other meats?”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
“How about lizard?”
The man puffed his chest out. “If I can put it into a skillet or hold it over a fire, I can cook it, sir.”
Theo grinned. “Perfect! You’re hired. I assume you know your way around a sword and spear too?”
The Solamnic nodded. “You can’t serve three tours with the Solamnic Army without knowing how to defend yourself, sir.”
“Quite right. Now.” Theodenes lifted his quill and turned to the first empty space in the ledger on the desk. “What is your name?”
There was a brief pause. The cook looked as if he hadn’t been expecting that question. “Etharion, sir. Etharion Cordaric.”
Theo thought the name sounded a little Ergothian, but then again the Solamnics were all descended from Ergothians anyway. “Welcome to the Monkey’s Ear Company, Etharion. The kitchen’s out back.”
After the Solamnic had left, Theo sent Cletus out of the room and sat alone in his cigar smoke. With a cook on board, he had a full complement. All he needed was a job that paid, and things would really get moving.
It was dangerous work, he thought. But he’d seen the best in action before, the kind of man who left a lasting impression, the kind of man who inspired imitators in the profession, the kind of man who owed a gnome several hundred steel pieces and a new saber-toothed kitten.
“Vanderjack,” said Theodenes to no one in particular.
CHAPTER FOUR
Vanderjack watched the sun going down over the Turbidus Ocean and thought of his mother.
There were hundreds of pirate kings in the Saifhumi shanty tales, but there had never been a pirate queen like her. Ireni Erj-Ackal was born on a ship and set foot on dry land only after she had first learned to climb rigging and walk along a spar. The Saifhumi made her their queen on the morning of her twentieth birthday, in the tradition of the sea nomads; she reigned for twenty more years before Mandracore the Reaver, a half-ogre, sank four of her ships and claimed her throne.
