day or two. The harmach wants to speak with you right away.”
“I need to speak with him too,” Geran said. “I have quite a story to tell you, and I’m not sure what it all means.”
“Where have you been for the last few days?”
“Up on the Highfells, but that’s part of the story. You’ll hear it soon enough if you have half an hour to spare.” He heard a light step on the stairs and glanced up; Hamil was coming down as well, having availed himself of the chance to change into dry clothes too. “Hamil, will you join us? My uncle wants to speak with me, and it might be helpful to have two accounts of the last few days.”
“Of course,” the halfling replied. He nodded to Kara. “A pleasure to see you again, my lady.”
“And you, Hamil,” Kara replied. She offered him a fleeting smile and inclined her head. “This way; the harmach’s hearing counsel in the trophy room.”
Geran and Hamil followed her as she led them down a flight of stairs into what would have been the foundations of the Harmach’s Tower. However, since the tower sat atop Griffonwatch’s steep crag, its basement formed another floor just beneath the buildings of the upper courtyard. A long row of windows facing south looked over rain-slick balconies and ramparts toward the Moonsea, a dark gray line beyond the rooftops of the town. The castle had several such hidden floors, some carved out of the living rock in the heart of the hill. Geran fondly remembered exploring all of them with Kara and their cousin Isolmar when all three were children not much bigger than Natali or Kirr. At the end of a long hall stood tall double doors of dark, gleaming wood. There were no Shieldsworn guards in sight; they were well within the Hulmaster family quarters, and the harmach’s men usually watched the doors and halls that led into this part of the castle instead of standing guard within the family residence.
Kara paused by the doors, knocked twice, and let herself in. The room beyond was a large chamber with heavy wooden beams overhead, a long table of fine cherry wood, and a handful of dusty bookshelves and mounted trophies along the walls-a red tiger pelt, a suit of plate armor, a dusty wyvern’s head, and the two-handed greataxe of a frost giant, a weapon fully ten feet long. The chamber was really a smaller, more secure banquet room than the great hall that divided the lower castle from its upper parts, one that just happened to be decorated with a handful of trophies taken by Grigor’s father in his youth.
“Uncle, I’ve brought Geran,” she said.
“Have you? Good.” Harmach Grigor sat in a large, high-backed chair at the head of the table. To his left sat the old keeper of keys, Wulreth Keltor, and beside him High Magistrate Theron Nimstar. Across the table Sergen Hulmaster paced absently. The harmach looked up from his advisors and motioned to Kara. “Come in, come in,” the old lord said. “I am afraid we have much to discuss, and little time.”
“First things first.” Sergen turned to face his stepsister, his hands clasped behind his back. He wore an elegant black tabard embroidered with a golden dragon design, and his habitual smirk was nowhere to be seen. “Did you find any sign of the orc delegation?”
“No, none yet,” Kara answered. “I haven’t had the chance to examine the site personally, but my scouts tell me that their camp is empty and there’s no sign of Morag and the others. I can only guess that, for whatever reason, they decided to leave.”
“But that makes no sense,” Theron Nimstar protested. “They gave us until sunset tomorrow to give our answer. Why leave before they have heard it?
“Perhaps they expected the harmach to refuse outright and were merely playing at offering a chance to buy peace,” Sergen said. “They might have already settled on war, in which case the whole point of the delegation was simply to take our measure.”
“That seems unlikely,” Kara answered. “Orcs are direct-far blunter than we would be. For good or ill, they rarely say anything they don’t mean. They wouldn’t feign a demand for tribute.”
“I’ve heard that this Mhurren has human blood,” Sergen answered. “Perhaps he’s got some human guile in him, too.”
Kara frowned but held her tongue. Geran took the opportunity to step forward. “Forgive me, but Hamil and I have been riding all over the Highfells for days, and we returned only an hour ago. When did the Bloodskulls show up? What do they want?”
“They came to the Raven Hill watchtower under a flag of truce three days ago and demanded to be taken to the harmach,” Kara answered him. “The Shieldsworn escorted them to Hulburg, and the Harmach’s Council heard them out the day before yesterday. They issued a demand for tribute and gave us three days to choose whether to pay or fight.” Kara glanced to the Harmach and then back to Geran. “The orcs were camped in the ruins of the old Windy Ridge post, waiting for our answer. But they seem to have left.”
“Perhaps their nerve failed them, and they feared they would be killed for throwing such an insult in our teeth,” Wulreth Keltor said aloud.
Kara shook her head. “That’s not likely, either. I can’t offer a good explanation for why they left, but I’m certain of this: If the Bloody Skulls didn’t wait for our answer, then they’ve chosen war, and we must prepare ourselves.”
No one spoke for a long moment. Then Harmach Grigor sighed and looked over to the two officials. “Theron, Wulreth, I suppose there is no more point in debating whether we should pay or negotiate. If the orcs have chosen war, then that is that. Wulreth, find some coin to finish the repairs to Daggergard’s gate. I want that work finished as soon as possible. Raid other works if you must. For that matter, we may need to hire mercenaries to fill out our ranks-I’ll take every copper you can find me.”
The keeper of keys made a sour face, but he nodded. “I will do everything I can, Lord Harmach.” He stood and bowed to the harmach; Theron did likewise. Then the two officials left the room, hurrying off to attend to their appointed tasks.
Geran waited for them to leave then cleared his throat. “Uncle Grigor, I think the Bloody Skulls aren’t the only problem at hand. I need to tell you what I’ve learned in the last tenday about Jarad’s murder, House Veruna, and the King in Copper.”
“Aesperus?” Kara shot a surprised look at Geran. “What in the world does he have to do with us?”
Sergen snorted. “He’s a useful bogeyman for scaring ill-behaved children, nothing more.”
The swordmage ignored his stepcousin’s derision. “I’m not sure, Kara, but Aesperus has something to do with House Veruna, and they in turn had much to do with Jarad’s murder.”
Both Grigor and Kara glanced at Sergen, who simply rolled his eyes, folded his arms, and leaned against a bookshelf. The harmach looked back to Geran. “You’d better tell us the whole story,” he said.
“All right.” Geran paused a moment to collect his thoughts then began. “As you know, I wanted to look into Jarad’s death. About ten days ago Kara took Hamil and me up to the barrow where Jarad was killed. We noticed that the barrow had been resealed recently, so we broke in to see what might have drawn the tomb robbers-and presumably Jarad-to that place.”
“You broke the harmach’s law against entering a barrow?” Sergen asked sharply.
“Someone else already had,” Hamil answered for Geran.
“I judged it worth investigating,” Geran continued. “Inside we discovered two fresh bodies hidden beneath the burial stone-a young woman and a man that Kara identified as an armsman of House Veruna.”
“He was buried in his Veruna colors?” Sergen said.
“No, but I recognized him,” Kara replied. She glanced at Geran. “I asked some questions around town after we returned. The dead armsman was Zormun Kelfarel-a Mulmasterite sellsword in the service of House Veruna. And yes, Sergen, I realize that his employers might’ve had no idea what he was up to, so don’t bother to say it.”
“Your discretion is admirable, dear Kara.”
“I also found out more about the tiefling we met outside the barrow, by the way,” Kara continued. “His name is Sarth, and he came to Hulburg about four months ago. Several of the merchant costers tried to hire him on, including House Veruna. All of the merchants look for competent spellcasters to strengthen their private armies.”
“We ran into him again-but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Geran said. He paced absently around the table, organizing his thoughts. “Since we had good reason to be suspicious of House Veruna, I decided to take a closer look at their activities. Hamil and I disguised ourselves and went to work in the Veruna tradeyard for a few days, watching Veruna’s sell-swords closely. Did you know they have well over a hundred men under arms in and around
