open. She made short work of his rib cage, bones and wires flying into the night. The creature possessed no internal organs. Where his heart should have been, there was only a small golden box secured by silver rods. The giant’s remaining hand grabbed her by the hair as she reached into his chest cavity and tore the box free. She popped it between her fingers, the lid flying open. It was difficult to see clearly, but what looked like a large, white mosquito buzzed up from the open container. It was at least two inches long, and glowed with an internal fire. It shot upward, like a shooting star in reverse, and vanished among its brethren in the sparkling firmament.
The giant no longer moved. Infidel made certain it never would again, as she snapped every bone and dried up muscle that she touched, tossing the fragments out into the bay. In a matter of minutes, the beast was completely disassembled; all that remained were the shredded remnants of his impossibly large pants.
She turned her face toward the doorway, twenty feet above. The hunchback met her gaze. Without warning, she leapt.
The hunchback calmly stepped aside as she flew into the room. She nearly tripped over Bigsby, who was still curled up on the floor, whimpering. Skidding to a halt in her muddy boots, Infidel whipped around. A trail of black mud splattered the walls like paint, stinking of dead fish and rotten eggs. She quickly spotted the hunchback, who held an open palm toward her.
“You seek the map,” he said. “It’s not here. Calm yourself, and I will tell you all you wish to know.”
Infidel straightened up from her fighting crouch. She was still seething. The hunchback held his ground as she moved toward him. I was certain the creature had misplayed his hand. She paused before him, reaching out to grab his cloak. But, instead of yanking the hunchback off his feet, she wiped her muddy face, using the gray tatters of his cape like a towel. Ordinarily, these dingy rags were the last thing anyone would use for cleaning, but after you’ve rolled in Commonground muck, pretty much everything is more sanitary than you are.
I was heartbroken when she dropped the edge of the cloak. She was bleeding, her own blood this time. Her right eyebrow sported a gash at least an inch long. There was a knot just above this big as a hen’s egg. Her nose was bleeding from both nostrils. When she spoke, I could see blood pooling around her gums.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“Bigsby sold the map to a man named Ivory Blade. You know him.”
Infidel nodded. “He’s King Brightmoon’s top spy.”
“Correct. The king was quick to recognize the importance of the map. Even now, a ship of his warriors is under sail, heading for the Isle of Fire.”
I suddenly put two and two together. I knew why the Black Swan hadn’t been free to give Infidel the Three Goons.
The hunchback continued: “Blade has been recruiting local talent to aid in the quest. I intended to offer the services of Patch. Now, I intend to offer you.”
“I’m not yours to offer,” said Infidel.
“You need not play coy,” said the hunchback. “We share a mutual goal. We each have our reasons for wanting to reach Greatshadow’s lair. The simplest path forward is to assist the king’s team. He’s assembled the finest warriors at his command, masters of both physical and spiritual warfare. Earlier this evening, you sought to hire the Three Goons. You’ll still be able to fight by their side; you just won’t have to pay their wages.”
Infidel shook her head as she walked away from the hunchback. “I’m not really a team player. I could get along with the Goons for a couple of weeks, but put me together with a bunch of knights and priests and I kill someone.”
“Indeed,” said the hunchback. “You’re perfectly suited to such a task.”
Infidel toed around the shattered slivers of barrel that littered the floor.
“You see a knife around here?” she asked. I saw she’d also lost my saber; it was probably out in the middle of the bay.
The hunchback produced the blade from his pocket and held it toward her.
“This knife belonged to your friend,” he said. “You think of it as your last link to him.”
She scowled as she snatched the knife from his grasp. “What are you, some kind of mind-reader?”
“Yes,” he said. “Your thoughts are not a secret from me, Infidel. I could deceive you and not reveal this fact. But, I want you to know that I am not without my talents. If we form a partnership, we each have something to gain.”
Infidel kicked most of the muck off her leg, then slid the knife back into her boot. Dark sludge bubbled up around the hilt as it sank into the sheath. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not looking for any new friends.”
“I’m not offering friendship, Infidel. Only an alliance.”
She stared at him. “It seems unfair that you know my name, while you get to remain a mystery. Who the hell are you?”
The hunchback chuckled. “Who indeed? As difficult as it may be to believe, I’ve lived my life without a name. I was cast out to die at birth.”
“How tragic. But you still must have a name.” Infidel said. “A relic like you can’t have made it this far without someone calling you something.”
“And yet, it is so.”
“Well, today’s your lucky day. From now on, you’ll be called ‘Lumpy.’”
The hunchback cocked his head, unsure if she was joking. I was pretty sure she wasn’t. Infidel didn’t like her own nickname much, and compensated by sticking others with bad ones. After her debut at the Black Swan, people called her Ripper and she liked it. Then, a month later, she’d been sitting at the bar when a wild-eyed man in a black robe burst through the door, shouted, “Infidel!” then broke his knife stabbing her in the back. The name might not have stuck, except the scene repeated itself about nine times over the next year. Everyone at the bar started calling her Infidel, and eventually I made the switch as well. She’s never volunteered what she did to piss off the fanatics, and I’ve never asked. The rule is, what happens outside Commonground, stays outside Commonground.
The hunchback rubbed his chin as he contemplated his need for a sobriquet. “You called me a relic. This will suffice.”
“Relic?” she said with a smirk. She thought it was a lousy name.
The hunchback nodded.
“Well, Relic, it’s nice meeting you, but it’s been a long day, and I’ve got a headache like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I believe you,” said Relic. “I feel your pain.”
“Whatever,” she said, heading toward the door with a dismissive wave. “Have fun on your dragon hunt.”
“Lord Tower is leading the quest,” said Relic.
Infidel froze in her tracks. Her eyes widened. I wasn’t surprised she knew who Lord Tower was; he was easily the most famous knight in the Shining Lands. Still, what did that matter to her?
Relic said, “He’s carrying a weapon that can actually slay Greatshadow.”
“Which one?” she asked, not looking back. “The Gloryhammer?”
“Something much, much more dangerous.”
Infidel pondered this, shook her head, then kept walking.
“After Tower slays the dragon, your job will be to kill the knight.”
Infidel spun on her heels. She eyed Bigsby, who’d uncurled sufficiently from his fetal ball to stare at her. “Go fix me a tub of boiling water,” she said. “And find me soap. Lots and lots of soap.”
Bigsby nodded as he stood, then scampered off.
Infidel leaned against the wall. She spat a gob of pink spittle into the middle of the floor.
“I’m not promising anything,” she said. “But let’s hear your plan.”
CHAPTER FOUR
