CHAPTER 15
Ringil met Eril s eyes across the table. Their swords were up in their rooms with the cloaks and baggage. He kept his voice soft and nonchalant.
Soldiers, eh.
Eril made a show of lounging back in his chair. So what do they want, lad? Is it the Watch?
The boy shook his head, licked his lips again.
No, my lords. They are irregulars.
There was a pleading quality to his expression as he looked at his two customers. Not so long since the war swept through here. Hinerion s walls had held well enough against the Scaled Folk, but the border skirmishing that followed between imperial and League forces was brutal on the inhabitants. Standard tavernkeeper s wisdom for the whole region: Forget uniforms or nominal allegiances if it wears a weapon and scars, it s no safer than the next starving wild dog. Feed and water with care, walk like you re carrying dragon eggs, and never, never get between rival packs.
All right, said Ringil, rising. We ll come out and talk to them. Nothing to worry about.
But he had a moment allowed himself the self-pitying luxury of it as he got up from the table to wonder if Dakovash hadn t taken demonic offense at his earlier insolence and set him up, whispered the plan to come to Hinerion into his head and let him believe it his own, all so that he could be caught like a rat and dragged down to the dungeons and a death by screaming inches.
He shivered.
This fucking flu.
Outside, through the candle gloom and smoky air in the main bar, he made out half a dozen bulky figures ranged about the place. The unmistakable, rigid jut of weaponry from their silhouettes, at hip and over shoulder, the instinctive space the tavern s other clientele accorded them. One or two were idly bullying the customers and serving girls. Smacked lips and slurping sounds as the crockery-laden women tried to squeeze past, the inevitable pawing hands, stoically endured. At one table, a thickset axman leaned low over the board, getting in the diners faces with a mock-friendly grin and the kind of intrusive commentary that demanded either weakly smiling capitulation or offense taken and a fight.
Ringil went by and jolted him heavily with one hip, jarred the man s leaning arms so he slipped mid- sentence on the table edge and nearly fell.
Oi!
It was more yelp than bellow, outrage beaten upward in pitch by surprise. But the axman came back from his stumble with a scary fighter s grace, pivoted and grabbed Ringil by the arm, dragged him back around.
Fuck do you thi
And his voice died out from under him as Ringil met his eyes.
They were close enough for the reek of the man s breath to plaster Gil s face like something solid, to feel that it was congealing and smearing there. Ringil said nothing, just looked at him.
It felt, for one flickering moment, as if there were black wings at his back.
The axman broke. Dropped his eyes, dropped his hand from Ringil s arm. Turned away.
Wanna look where you re fucking going, man, he muttered.
Same might be said for you, Venj. The voice was a good-natured rumble that Ringil recognized. Thought you said you were a skirmish ranger in the war. Don t they teach all-around awareness at all times, or some such shit?
It was the shaven-headed bounty hunter from the office. He loomed up at the axman s side, one cautionary arm out loosely across his comrade s chest, a gesture that looked restraining and protective in about equal measures. He was taller than Ringil had realized when they talked before. He grinned with the assurance of a man used to dominating whatever room he was in.
How you doing, Shenshenath?
I am. Well.
Klithren. From the bounty offices.
Ringil got a firmer grip on his fake Yhelteth accent. Yes, I remember. You have come looking for me?
Yeah, how about that? The bounty hunter tugged at his mutilated ear. See, some of us got sick of waiting for the Keep to put up its list. Going to ride out at dawn, see if we can t flush this bandit scum out of the forest and worry about the names later. Wondered if you wanted in.
Ringil grappled with his fever-blurred wits. Me?
Yeah, well, I pride myself on being a judge of men with steel. And you re like me, you ve held a command. Got the rank, the experience. Man like that, be glad to have you ride with us.
Uh. Ringil glanced across at Eril. The Marsh Brotherhood enforcer shrugged.
Your pal here s welcome along of course, Klithren said quickly. I didn t know you were mobbed up. Thought you d come in alone. Seemed like a man alone, you know. But this fella looks like he can handle himself. You d be welcome to ride with us too, pal.
Eril inclined his head. Ringil said nothing. Klithren looked from one to the other.
The silence stretched.
So, uhm, look. Briskly. I figure an even split with the boys here, your man included, plus you and me take a captain s tithe on whatever total we bring in. Sound about right?
Ringil made an effort, brought a hand to his chin, rubbed at his stubble as if giving the offer weighty consideration. He held it for as long as he dared, head tilting dizzily with the thought of riding out at dawn in hard pursuit of himself.
Yes, he managed. Yes, that. That would be acceptable. The rates. Good. And you say at dawn?
Yeah. Going out the Dappled Gate. You know how to get there?
Yes, I the Dappled Gate. Of course. Stop fucking mumbling, Gil. Get a grip. On the eastern wall. Yes.
So you re in?
Ringil pulled himself somewhat together. I will be there, yes.
Good. The bounty hunter looked triumphantly around at his men. Told you, didn t I? The imperial knows a paying opportunity when he sees one. Here, give me your hand on it, Shenshenath.
Ringil took the clasp, gripped the leathery swordsman s palm in his own, forced pressure into his fingers and a smile. Klithren squeezed back, only about half as hard as a war hound s bite.
See, now that s what I m talking about. Once more, he seemed to be addressing his companions rather than Ringil. That old Alliance magic, just like back in the war. No stopping us now, eh?
Some halfhearted assent from the other men. The axman glowered and didn t join in. Klithren evidently didn t care. He turned Ringil s pulped hand loose and waved a dismissive arm.
Ah, ignore them, they re a bunch of fucking pussies. I ve been at them over two hours not to just sit on their arses down there waiting for the city to loosen its purse strings like it s some virgin taking off her shift. If we d acted this way when the Scaled Folk came, there wouldn t be a city still standing on this coast.
Hoy. The axman s glare shifted focus to Klithren. I fucking stood with my city. I was on the walls of Trelayne when the lizards came, and I threw them back into the ocean. And I was part of the levy sent down to clean up the mess here before that, when you border rats couldn t hold the line. So don t come the superior fucking warrior with me.
Klithren cocked his head. A slow, comfortable grin lit his features. The axman saw it, but it took a couple of moments for him to catch up. He was in a Hinerion tavern, after all; his comrades were it appeared from their scowls mostly from Hinerion. The border rats comment had not gone down well.
Venj, Klithren said fondly. You are a grumpy old fuck. And if you weren t such a dab hand with that ax of yours, I would probably have to kill you. We all know you married a border rat s daughter, so why don t you just get over the fact you don t live in the capital anymore, and let s leave Shenshenath here to get some sleep. Dawn ll be round soon enough for all of us.
It was masterfully done. The tension leaked out of the room, grins leaked in. A guffaw came from way back in the tavern gloom.
Oh, the pain of exile, jeered someone, none too quietly.
