will the staff do?”
At first, Aurelia said nothing, too busy running a finger across the smooth webs and sensing the slight aura of magic.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, this will most definitely do.” She pulled him close and kissed his forehead.
“None of that mushy stuff,” he said, jerking away. The red of his face spread to his ears. “Anyway, Tarlak said to tell ya Dieredon is coming sometime tomorrow to claim your beauty…uh, bounty.”
“I’ll be ready,” she said, grinning. “Thank you for the staff.”
“Was nothing,” he mumbled, beating a hasty retreat from her room.
W hen Qurrah and Tessanna returned, the half-orc went to find Tarlak.
“What’s the matter?” Tarlak asked, shutting the door to his room behind Qurrah.
“I wish Tessanna to stay here,” the half-orc said. “Not as a member of the Eschaton, but merely as a guest.”
The wizard plopped into his chair and leaned back, his fingertips drumming the desk. “A guest? We usually don’t do that type of thing here. But, who cares about what we normally do, eh?”
“Can she stay with Aurelia and Delysia?”
Tarlak shrugged. “I have no objection. You will need to ask them. Oh yeah, I finally got that portable hole. Harruq’s been working upstairs the whole day. You have a room now, instead of a cubbyhole among boxes.”
“Much appreciated,” said Qurrah. “And I will ask the girls if they mind her staying. If you wish, you may take her rent out of my pay.”
“Nonsense,” the wizard said, emphasizing this with his hand. He stood and walked Qurrah to the door. “You’re family now. You don’t charge family rent. Not the members you like, anyway.”
Qurrah chuckled. “Very well. I will speak to the girls.”
“Don’t go too far tomorrow,” Tarlak said. “We might need you when Dieredon comes.”
“I understand.”
The half-orc told Tessanna the news. Aurelia and Delysia readily agreed to let her stay, albeit on a few bedrolls piled between their beds. The tower was getting crowded, but no one seemed to mind.
M elhed paced inside his small but luxurious home. His frame was scrawny and triangular, matching the shape from the top of his head down to his laboriously trimmed black goatee. Throwing daggers lined his belt, oiled and well cared for.
“They won’t show,” the man said, his voice sounding like a rat squeaking. “I knew they wouldn’t. They drank themselves dumber than mules, and now I’m stuck.”
A knock on his door ended his whining. He looked through a peephole to see a mammoth muscled chest covered with blue and black armor.
“About time,” the spindly man said, throwing open his door. “You’re late.”
The floor creaked under the giant weight as the highest paid killer in all of Neldar stepped inside.
“Shut up, Melhed. I’m here, and that is all that matters.”
“Where’s your men,” Melhed asked. The giant man chuckled. It was a deep, dangerous sound, and he knew he was treading on very thin ice.
“They are warriors of Karnryk!” the giant man shouted. “They will be here.”
Melhed disappeared to get drinks ready. Karnryk picked at his teeth. He was a half-orc, his human mother raped by an orc. Karnryk had grown up an outcast, his large ears and chubby face earning him names like Dogface and the Pig. His enormous size and strength, however, had granted him a few perks. He had been educated. He had been trained. Nearly every guild in Neldar had seen his enormous potential, and the half-orc had milked training from every single one before abandoning them when their usefulness was at an end. Now he worked for himself. The pay was better, and his reputation had spread far and wide.
“You heard about the spider guild?” Karnryk shouted to Melhed, who was two rooms away.
“Someone told me it was no more. I assumed they were joking.”
“It’s no joke,” the half-orc said. “The Watcher killed most of them, and the rest begged themselves into the other guilds. Sickening, really.”
“How so?” Melhed asked, returning with huge pitchers full of ale. Karnryk downed one in two huge gulps.
“They quiver at the name of the Watcher,” he roared. “They act as if he were a demon or a god. It is my name they should fear, not his!”
“To be fair, you approve of what the thief guilds do, while the Watcher, well, doesn’t.” Melhed sipped at his own, much smaller cup. “If you called a bounty on the heads of all thieves, people would cower at the thought of your approach.”
The giant man leaned back in his chair, which creaked loudly in protest. He wore little armor, feeling no need for it. A sword the length of an average man hung from his back, notched and chipped from many battles. Scars ran down his face. His eyes were an ugly yellow. Still, he was stronger and meaner than a raging bull, and such attributes lent him many friends.
“Knock-knock,” a voice shouted at the door. A group of men barged in, all carrying drinks. They were armed to the teeth, and beneath their ragged street clothes shone glimpses of old chainmail.
“Put your ale away,” the half-orc said to Melhed. “They’ve already had enough.”
“Of course, Karnryk.”
The pitchers of ale vanished, to the groans of the small rabble.
“Hey, I’m thirsty,” one in particular said, starting after the scrawny man. The half-orc grabbed him, wrenched his arm, and slammed his body to the ground. The man cried in pain, his hand pinned underneath him at an awkward angle.
“Shut up all of you,” the half-orc roared. “This ain’t the usual crap we go after, so I need all of you sharp. Now spill the beer and listen up. We finally get to do what I’ve always wanted to do.”
“What’s that?” asked one, sneering at the pinned man.
“The Eschaton tower. We’re going to make it ours.”
A cheer rose throughout the men crammed into Melhed’s home.
“Don’t the Watcher live there,” one man dared ask. Karnryk grinned at him, his eyes filled with anticipation.
“Yeah, he does, and get ready to collect the hidden bounty. By tonight, every one of us is going to be stinking rich.”
Another cheer. Karnryk didn’t bother to say he would claim the bulk of the secret reward offered by the heads of the thief guilds. The others would be well off, but nothing six months of binging on ale and women wouldn’t whittle away to nothing.
“Melhed, did you figure out a plan?” the half-orc asked.
“It’s simple, but I think it will work,” Melhed replied.
“Shut up, all of you!” Karnryk shouted. The room immediately quieted. After a gesture to start, Melhed explained the plan.
T hey covered themselves with the morning dew and crunched fallen leaves underneath their bodies, while the birds of the forest listened to their moans. When their flame burned out, Tessanna once again bathed in the chilly stream. Qurrah remained in the grass, dabbing a hand in the water.
“Qurrah?” Tessanna asked, the water up to her neck.
“Yes?”
The girl swam away, her eyes never leaving him. “How did you know I could heal the elf?”
The half-orc shrugged, not wanting to spoil the pleasant morning by thinking. “I didn’t. And I did. I’m not sure I can explain.”
“That won’t do,” the girl said. “You knew somehow, didn’t you? Now tell me.”
Qurrah glared. “I’m not lying. I don’t know how I knew. You’re different than me, though. I’ve practiced necromancy all my life. Have you?”
Tessanna lowered her face below the water so that only her eyes peered out. The half-orc sighed.
“Fine. You’ve been inside my mind. You know what I have done, what I have learned. Where did you first gain access to magic?”
The girl dove all the way under, turned, and then lunged to the surface, her long black hair flailing behind her,
