Geran studied the tiefling for a long moment before answering. The man was obviously a very capable sorcerer, but Geran knew that his spell-shields would stand up better to blasts of flame and bolts of lightning than the mundane mail the Veruna men wore. He took his time answering in order to make sure that the sorcerer would understand that he did not answer out of fear. “If you’re speaking of the Infiernadex, then the lich Aesperus has it,” he said. “The Veruna men followed us to this barrow, and I think Aesperus followed them. He took the book from me and departed not more than half an hour ago.”
“You should take up the matter of the book with him,” Hamil offered.
The tiefling’s face darkened, and he turned away, snarling something in a language that Geran didn’t know. He kicked at the ground and slashed his weapon through the air in frustration. “You led them right to this place! Aesperus never could have removed the book from the Lathanderian’s barrow by himself. You have delivered his prize to him, you fools!”
“The Verunas were searching barrows all over the Highfells,” Hamil retorted angrily. “Sooner or later, they would have found the right one. Don’t blame us because you didn’t find it before we did. For that matter, I’d like to know how you found us here too.”
“I followed the Verunas. I was going to let them remove the book then take it from them.” He glared at Hamil. “Your meddling has cost me six months of labor. You halfwits have no idea what you’ve done!”
Geran decided to let the sorcerer’s sharp words pass for the moment. “This is the second time I’ve met you on the doorstep of a barrow,” he said. “I am Geran Hulmaster, of the harmach’s family, and we have laws against disturbing burial mounds in these lands. Who are you? And what do you want with Aesperus’s book?”
The tiefling calmed himself with a visible effort, and looked back to Geran and Hamil. “I am Sarth Khul Riizar,” he answered. “My interest in the Infiernadex is my own affair. But if Aesperus has found it at last, I doubt that I will ever be able to lay my hands on it. He is a foe beyond my strength.”
“We’re in your debt, Sarth Khul Riizar,” said Geran. “Your arrival distracted the Veruna men from the task of figuring out how they were going to kill us.”
“Such was not my intent,” the sorcerer said bitterly. “Still, I suppose you made yourself useful in the fight, and you have my thanks for that.” He frowned at the two companions again, then shook his head and muttered a spell under his breath. With a single bound he leaped into the sky and shot off eastward over the fells. In a moment he was completely out of their sight.
“Did you hear that? We made ourselves useful,” Hamil said. He sighed and looked around. A cold drizzle began to fall. “Ah, wouldn’t you know it? Our horses ran off with theirs.”
“Rosestone is three or four hours off by foot,” Geran said. He sheathed his sword and took a deep breath. “If we start now, I think we can be there before sunup.”
FIFTEEN
26 Ches, the Year of the Ageless One
Council Hall was one of the largest and most striking buildings in Hulburg. Its lower walls were made of thick, strong stone every bit as sturdy as a watchtower’s, and its upper stories were well-fitted hardwood, with beam- ends carved into leaping dolphins and vigilant hounds-images of commerce and good fortune. Sergen Hulmaster glanced up as his coach rolled under the expensive carvings overhead; there was a gold dragon’s head over the front door that he liked best of all. In the fading afternoon light it took on a striking orange gleam.
“We’re here, Lord Hulmaster,” his driver said. The coachman reined in the team, and Sergen’s footman hopped down to hold open the door for him. Two Council Watch guards who rode on the coach’s running boards climbed down and arranged themselves on either side, ready to fall in and escort him. The watchmen looked competent and crisp in black tabards over breastplates of browned iron. They might not have been a match for the professional sellswords Veruna and the other companies employed, or even the harmach’s Shieldsworn, but Sergen intended to remedy that soon enough. Besides, an armed escort was one of the trappings of privilege, and he insisted on it.
“Very well,” Sergen said. “Wait for me here. I don’t intend to remain inside for long.” He smiled to himself as he stepped down to the cobblestones in front of the fine stone stairs leading up to the hall’s doors. He did every time he caught sight of the grand edifice, since it was really his building, a symbol of his personal power and importance in Hulburg. Oh, the Merchant Council was ostensibly an association of equals, with each merchant of consequence in the city commanding one seat on the council, and he merely presided over it without a vote in its deliberations. But Sergen was Keeper of Duties, which gave him all the power he needed to buy or sell votes as he liked, while the support of House Veruna-and its immense wealth-made him master of the council in fact as well as name. For years now he had dictated to lesser members the positions they should adopt and the measures they should support or ruined them by giving Veruna opportunities to plunder their interests. It hadn’t taken the smaller companies long to learn the cost of not doing what he wanted.
Sergen climbed up the steps and strode into the building, paying the guards posted by the door no mind as they grounded the butts of their halberds for him. The council chamber itself was to his right, but he walked past it and up a grand wooden staircase in the foyer. His chambers were on the second floor, a large suite that included working rooms for his staff, a library, a sitting room, servant’s spaces, and even a modest bedchamber if he decided that he didn’t care to return to his grand house in the hills after an evening in Hulburg. Few of the council clerks or attendants were in the building since the working day had ended an hour ago, but those who crossed his path were careful to stop and bow with murmured greetings of “Good evening, Lord Hulmaster,” or “By your leave, Lord Keeper.”
Sergen’s guards preceded him into the Keeper’s chambers. He swept in on their heels, doffed his expensive fur mantle, and handed it to his valet. “Is Ironthane here?” he asked.
“Aye, Lord Hulmaster,” one of the guards answered. “He waits in the captain’s room.”
“Show him upstairs immediately, then,” Sergen answered. “I am attending the theater tonight, and I don’t want to be late.” The guard withdrew and hurried off. Sergen sat behind his desk and quickly studied the documents and orders his minions had left for him to review before signing. He found nothing of any real importance at a quick glance, but before he could begin a more serious examination, he heard footsteps in the hall, followed by a knock at the door. “Enter,” he replied.
“Captain Kendurkkel Ironthane, my lord,” the guard said. He moved aside to make room for a wide- shouldered, black-bearded dwarf in heavy mail-and-plate, who wore a vast bearskin mantle over his armored shoulders and a wide gold chain to secure the fur. The dwarf had a long-stemmed clay pipe cupped in one hand and rested his other hand on the handle of a vicious-looking throwing axe that hung at his left hip. He was tall for his kind, just an inch or two under five feet, and was extraordinarily burly with shoulders that seemed a yard wide. He looked Sergen up and down and puffed once on his pipe.
“Welcome, Captain,” Sergen said. He looked at the other guards and attendants in the room and dismissed them with a gesture. Then he stood up and bowed slightly. “I am Sergen Hulmaster, Keeper of Duties in Hulburg.”
“I’ve no’ been long in Hulburg, but I’ve been here long enough t’ learn who you be,” the dwarf said. “You’re master o’ the town, as near’s I can tell. So what d’you want with me Icehammers?”
“Have a seat, Captain.” Sergen waited for the dwarf to make himself comfortable then went on. “I believe I have need of your mercenaries. I wish to engage your company as a special auxiliary to the Council Watch. You’ll report to me, and me alone. Are you interested?”
The dwarf shrugged. “It depends where you mean t’ send me lads, an’ who you expect us t’ fight, Laird Hulmaster.”
“You’d remain in or near Hulmaster for now-within an hour’s march, I would imagine. As for fighting, well, I doubt you’ll see any pitched battles. The Bloody Skull orcs are demanding tribute from the harmach, but I intend for that to be little concern of yours. I want to use your company to help establish and keep order in town and perhaps assist me in suppressing enemies of the Merchant Council.”
“An’ who be those enemies?”
“Whomever I tell you to consider an enemy, Captain.” Sergen leaned forward on his desk and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Lawless gangs in the Tailings. Outlaw bands on the Highfells. Merchant companies that
