"Doesn't have a name," Ursa replied.
"It's good," Kit said after taking a sip. It tasted like strong tea, but more nourishing than that. From the flavor of the broth, it was a mixture of roots and powdered fish. Kitiara hadn't realized how hungry she was.
"Uh-huh," was all Ursa said. She waited for him to say something else, but he just sat there, watching her for several minutes, until she had drained the cup.
"Where are the others?" she asked again.
"Waiting somewhere," he repeated.
"You said that," Kit pointed out, getting angry.
He stared at her for a long minute. "They're not coming," he said, "and I'm going, shortly."
"What do you mean?"
"Look, they didn't even want me to come," Ursa said flatly. "I came to make sure you were all right."
"Why?" she demanded. "What do you mean? What's happened?" He looked at her again for a long time before answering. He stood and started to pace, before facing her. "I guess you have a right to know."
"Know what?"
Ursa sat down again, watching her reaction. "The dwarves in Silverhole are building a mountain road. The convoy we robbed was carrying a half-year's salary, in advance, for their labor. Fifty dwarves, some humans, six months of excruciating labor—enough gold and silver to make the four of us rich for ten, maybe twenty years."
"Five of us," she corrected tersely.
He let it pass.
"The road," Ursa continued evenly, "was going to link two feudal estates on opposite sides of this particular mountain range. Without the road, it takes weeks, sometimes months, to travel from one estate to the next. A straight route would cut the time to a week, ten days at most."
"So?" wondered Kitiara. Why was he telling her all this?
Ursa sighed. "Well, Kitiara, if you would listen once in a while instead of cutting in .. . It's always good for a mercenary to know more about a job than simply when to fight or what to steal. Like how and why they're doing it. Why do these two estates need a direct road at such expense, and how do we come into the plan?"
Kitiara had to agree that made sense. She relaxed her tone. "OK," she said, curious. "Go on."
"On the far side of the mountain lives a rich vinegrower whose fields are tended by minotaurs captured in foreign wars. The vinegrower is known as Lord Mantilla, although he is about as much a noble as I am a bard of Silvanesti. The minotaurs are bought at great expense at slave auctions. This vinegrower has a daughter, named Luz, who, on one of these auction trips, met a young nobleman with whom she fell in love. The young nobleman lives on the other side
of the mountain. His father is a proud forester whose family has ruled a wide swath of land around here for generations and whose son is the jewel of his existence. He is a true nobleman, a former Knight of Solamnia called Sir Gwathmey."
"I see," said Kitiara, her eyes widening. Yet she didn't see at all. This long nighttime tale reminded her of the kind her father used to tell, the ones that used to lull her asleep. But she wasn't sleepy and she was certain that Ursa was getting to some point.
"No, you don't see," said Ursa, although with more kindliness in his tone than before.
"Not yet. The vinegrower had worked for the forester as a young man, but was paid badly and accused of stealing foodstuffs from the main house. After he left in a furor, he made his way across the mountain and founded his own fortune, beginning a new life. The worst thing in the world would be for his daughter to marry his enemy's son, and so he was anxious to break the marriage contract.
"But he had to do it without letting his daughter discern his role, because she is headstrong and would have insisted on having her way in spite of him."
"Hmmm." Events were beginning to add up.
"It so happens that Radisson has a brother who works as a household entertainer for Lord Mantilla. Radisson's brother was asked to make contact with a group of mercenaries who would waylay the payroll shipment, thence stopping the progress of the mountain road, which was being built as part of the marriage accord. Such was the value of the payroll that the forester will not be able to finance his road again for a long time, if ever. The dwarves will stop working when they hear news of the robbery, and no other selfrespecting road gang will make the mistake of taking on the task. No road, no marriage."
"Did you get the payroll?" asked Kitiara, a little confused.
"Yes," answered Ursa grimly. "Three of their men were killed, but none of us was even injured. We managed to capture the nobleman's son and make our escape under the smoke screen of magic that Droopface concocted. Then, you led the rest of the guards on a merry chase in the wrong direction. That much went well and as planned."
"Then why aren't we celebrating. What's wrong?"
"Something we hadn't counted on," said Ursa, his mouth curling bitterly. "There was a spell on the payroll chest. We couldn't open it. Droopface tried everything he could think of, but his magic is limited and is more in the category of illusion than actual prowess. We tried everything to convince the nobleman's son, name of Beck, to tell us the secret of the magic. But Beck Gwathmey proved an arrogant fool who wouldn't tell us anything about the chest or stop taunting us with his plans to imprison and execute us." Ursa stood now, his back to her again, his voice lowering with tension.
"I saw his body," Kit said softly.
"That wasn't planned," said Ursa harshly. "That was El-Navar, who couldn't control his temper."
"El-Navar?" began
