looked at each other, no one wanting to be the first to try the foul-smelling concoction.
“It’s not a very auspicious name,” Jester remarked unhelpfully. Sabira decided this probably wasn’t the time to share with them the story of how that name had come about.
“Well, then it matches everything else about this trip,” she said wryly. “Bottoms up.”
The others followed half a breath after her, upending their mugs and swallowing. Sabira had braced herself for a taste to match the smell, but the ale was smooth, going down like velvet with a pleasant earthy flavor and a warm finish.
“Mushrooms,” Greddark said decisively. “And cactus sap, if I’m not mistaken. Probably the flowers too. Could use some ironspice to liven it up, but it’s not bad. Not bad at all.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his fist and signaled for another.
“Might want to slow down there, mate,” a man at the neighboring table said-a Vadalis, judging from the quick glimpse Sabira got of the dragonmark on his neck before his long blond hair fell forward to cover it. Probably a handler for the magebred camels; if Brannan used them, it stood to reason other expeditions did too. “Stuff’s more potent than it looks.”
Greddark snorted.
“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll order a double.”
Sabira gave the dwarf a dark look and turned on her seat so she was facing the man.
“You’ll have to forgive my friend. He got a little too much sun on the way here, and heat makes him cranky.” She shrugged apologetically. “It’s a dwarf thing.”
The man’s eyes flicked over her once, taking in the quality of her armor and the Siberys shard adorning the urgrosh on her back.
“Deneith?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She nodded, holding out her hand.
“Sabira.”
“Laven d’Vadalis,” he replied, shaking her hand. “Didn’t expect to see any more of you lot here after the last group didn’t make it back.”
“Oh?”
“Pretty blonde took ’em down-Blademarks, I think. None of them ever came back up again.” His eyes-hazel, like Elix’s, Sabira noticed with a sudden pang she forced quickly away-narrowed. “Well, except their guide. One of the Unders.”
“Unders?”
“Drow who live under the mountains and the desert, came up when the caverns were opened. Umbragen’s the name I think they use, but most everyone else just calls them Unders.”
“Yeah, because they get under your skin, and stay there,” one of Laven’s companions interjected. “Like a cactus needle, or a scorpion sting.” The woman’s comment was greeted with grunts of assent from the others at their table.
The corner of Laven’s mouth quirked upward.
“Glynn’s just mad he turned her down,” he quipped, which earned him a half-hearted punch from the woman and chuckles from his friends. Then he turned serious again. “You here to finish what the blonde started?”
Sabira gave him her most ingenuous smile, then lied through her teeth.
“I’m here to get rich. Aren’t you?”
Laven laughed and raised his mug.
“I’ll drink to that.”
As the Vadalis man gulped down his own Tainted Well, Sabira took stock of him and his companions. Laven wore boiled leather armor and carried a worn but well-kept sword. Glynn was similarly dressed, with a brace of daggers across her chest. The two others at the table were also human, one in battered chain and the other in heavy robes Sabira suspected had been fashioned out of a wagon covering.
She revised her assessment of Laven and his group; they probably weren’t animal handlers, after all. They looked more like hired hands down on their luck, hoping to make a little coin. A situation she just might be able to help them with.
“So, who’s the best person to work for out here if I want to accomplish that goal?”
Laven set his mug down and regarded her curiously.
“You look more like the order-giving type than the order-taking,” he said after a moment.
“Maybe I just want to know who my competition is,” she replied with an arch look. She didn’t really want to spend time playing games with him, though. She couldn’t go into Tarath Marad with only three swords at her side- not if she wanted to come back out again. Best just to get straight to the point. “Who are you working for?”
The Vadalis man blinked once at her directness.
“We’re sort of… independent contractors,” Glynn answered for him.
Sabira shifted her gaze to the other woman, whose close-cropped black hair did little to hide either her scars or her age.
“Not enough work in Stormreach for you?” Sabira asked her. This was the crux. She wanted men who’d follow her into the depths. She needed men who were desperate enough to do it.
But there were degrees of desperation, and to the reasons behind it. Guisarme, Jester, and Skraad had ultimately followed her because she offered them a better choice- not the only one. Hiring men without options was like loading your quiver with warped quarrels. Sure, some of them would fly true, but it only took one to break in the groove and render the crossbow useless, and you defenseless. She needed to make sure Laven and his group weren’t here in Trent’s Well because there was nowhere else they could go.
The dark-haired woman shrugged.
“I get bored easy.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sabira thought she saw Laven wince. She wondered when Glynn had gotten bored of him.
“So you’re looking for money and excitement?”
“Aren’t you?” Glynn countered, throwing her own earlier question back at her with an impish look.
Sabira smiled. She had a feeling this partnership would work out just fine.
She was about to open her mouth to begin the negotiation process when a hush came over the tavern and all heads turned toward the entrance. Sabira turned to look as well and saw Xujil standing there, scanning the room. His gaze fell on her and he started toward her table. As he passed, people hastily got up from their tables, leaving coin beside their unfinished drinks on their way out.
When it became clear what the drow’s destination was, Laven glanced at Sabira.
“Another cranky friend of yours?”
Sabira met his eyes coolly. If working with the drow was going to be a problem, she needed to know it now. She could find other men to go down into the caverns; she couldn’t find another guide who knew the route Tilde had taken.
“Something like that.”
“Well, this should be fun, then.”
Sabira turned back in her seat to face the drow as he stopped next to her table, the only one aside from Laven’s that was still occupied. Even the kobold piper and shifter dancer had left the tavern, leaving them alone, except for Raff’s twin, who might have been a statue for all the attention he paid them.
“Marshal,” the drow said by way of greeting, and Sabira almost groaned. That was going to drive Laven’s price up, she was sure.
“Something I can do for you?” she asked shortly, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
“The mayor asks everyone who enters Tarath Marad to register with him and pay a small usage fee, to help offset expenses incurred by the town in housing and feeding so many extra people. Since Brannan is unable to register for you, he requires your presence.”
Sabira cocked an eyebrow at that. That was some pretty shrewd governing for a guy who dumped a dead body in a well and didn’t think there’d be consequences.
“Where is he?”
“At the mayor’s home, in the cavern,” the drow replied, unperturbed by her less than welcoming tone.
“Tell him we’ll be along shortly.”
