Bull Hollow, when they reached it, turned out to be a cluster of well-kept, mostly wooden buildings arranged around a central common like gamblers around a cock pit. The majority of the buildings were houses, a few were simple shops of various kinds, and at least one had the stout stone walls of a smithy. That the small community managed to support more than one commercial establishment at all was something of a surprise, but Singe supposed that Bull Hollow actually served as the trading hub for a region that spread far beyond its little valley.
Toller reached over and prodded him. 'Look at that.'
Singe looked. On the far side of the common was a large whitewashed building with a number of windows and what looked like a low-slung stable to one side. A goodly number of folk were gathered at the ground floor and, from what he could see through open windows, all of the visitors held mugs and tankards. He sat back. 'Twelve moons,' he said.
'It's an inn?' asked Toller.
'An inn or something enough like one that I'm willing to chance it.' He nodded to Toller. 'Maybe I was wrong about this place.'
He turned his horse toward the large building, Toller wheeling his mount sharply in order to stay close. Their arrival was beginning to bring attention. More and more faces all around the hamlet's common were turning in their direction. Eyes were wide and he caught more than one over-loud whisper of excitement and curiosity. A good number were directed toward Toller and the insignia of House Deneith.
Toller was staring back. 'Maybe now would be a good time to begin recruiting,' he whispered. 'We have their attention and they're clearly interested.'
'We have plenty of time,' Singe murmured back. He barely moved his lips as he nodded to a young lass in a homespun dress of a cut that looked like it had come out of another century. 'Let them come to us. We'll have some dinner and give them a chance to get a few drinks inside themselves. When we've worked our way back toward civilization with a train of recruits for the Blademarks in tow, that's the time to talk fast and try to sell the benefits of becoming a mercenary. For now, relax and use your eyes. Reachers make good scouts and wilderness fighters-try and spot the best ones before they start posing for us.'
'You're the veteran,' said Toller. 'Have you ever been out this far before?'
Singe pressed his lips together and fixed his gaze on the tavern. For a moment he was silent, then he said, 'Almost. Once, years ago. During the war and much further north. My first recruiting trip-I was barely more than a recruit myself.'
'And?' asked Toller.
Singe glanced at him. 'And nothing,' he said curtly. 'It was during your uncle's command of the Frostbrand. He led the trip himself.'
Toller's mouth clamped shut and his eyes dropped down to the ground under his horse's hooves.
Singe grimaced. Mention of Robrand d'Deneith was all it took to shut the mouth of half of House Deneith. None of them, not even Toller, liked to be reminded of how close he had been to the old man.
And Robrand, thought Singe, would be angrier than a hunting dragonhawk if he knew I was invoking his name just to change to a subject-though he might understand, given the consequences of that particular trip.
He forced himself to relax his grip on his horse's reins. 'Drink lightly with dinner,' he advised Toller, trying to ease the tension between them. 'The real challenge will come after.'
The young man took a deep breath and nodded, sitting up straight once more. Singe caught a glimpse of grateful relief in his eyes. He smiled at him. 'You'll do fine, Toller. Have confidence and take charge.'
A tall man with a shock of white hair was hustling out from the inn before they had even walked their horses up to it. His eyes darted from the crest on Toller's jacket to the swirling, ornate hilt of the rapier that hung at Singe's side. The Aundairian turned his smile on him. 'You have rooms?' he asked. 'And dinner?'
'Yes, good master! Of course!' The man practically fell over as he bowed. 'Welcome, welcome! My name is Sandar.' He spun around and bellowed. 'Thul! Thul!'
A sleepy-looking boy poked his head out from the stables. Sandar gestured urgently for him to come forward. Singe swung his leg over his horse's rump and dismounted before the innkeeper could injure himself in his eagerness to serve. 'We're not in any rush, Sandar,' he said warmly. 'Take your time!'
Sandar looked relieved. 'Tak, master! That's kind of you. We don't see many of the dragonmarked in these parts, and to have two…'
'Only one, Sandar. I just work for House Deneith.' Singe smiled and nodded to Toller.
Sandar's eyebrows rose so high they almost merged with his hairline and he spun around to face Toller. 'Your pardon, good master!' he gasped. 'I had thought your servant to be your equal!'
Singe's indulgent smile vanished into a glower while Toller's face lit up. 'No apologies needed, Sandar,' said the young man, 'it's happened before.' He stretched so that his dragonmark-the shimmering, swirling colors of the magical pattern that marked a true heir of one of the great houses-peeked out from under the cuff of his right sleeve. Sandar's eyes opened even wider in awe.
'Good master!' he breathed. 'The best of my inn is yours!' Sandar stepped back, licked his lips, glanced from Singe to Toller, and back again, then asked, 'If it wouldn't offend you, masters, would you mind my asking what business brings you to Bull Hollow?'
'Not at all, Sandar,' Toller said as dismounted. 'We're here on a mission for House Deneith, looking for recruits for the Blademarks Guild.'
A murmur of mingled excitement and concern rippled through the watching 'Mercenaries?' asked Sandar. Singe thought he finally saw a hint of caution peek through the man's eagerness to serve. 'But the war is over. Surely there's no more need for mercenaries.'
Singe snorted. 'There's always a need for mercenaries,' he said. 'Peace requires an iron fist. But I don't suppose you felt much of the war in Bull Hollow, did you?'
'No, master,' Sandar admitted. 'So far out from the center of the Five Nations, it barely touched us. We do have a veteran living in the Hollow-a great man, though not from here originally-but he doesn't like to talk much about the war.'
'I understand.'
Toller grinned. 'We'll let the veterans swap war stories between themselves tonight, Sandar. Let's start with food.' He threw a mischievous glance over his shoulder as Sandar led him inside. 'Help the stable boy with the horses… Lieutenant Bayard.'
Singe glared after him, but his mouth twitched with a certain pride. 'We'll make a leader out of you yet, Toller,' he muttered under his breath.
Dandra woke to the sound of voices and the distinctive sensation of having a roof over her head for the first time in weeks. Panic wrapped around her heart and squeezed. The reflexive discipline of a month of constant dread took precedent, however. She stayed still and silent, her eyes closed and her breathing regular, as she took stock of her situation.
She was lying on a bed, rough and slightly smelly, but a bed nonetheless. She was indoors-warmth, smell, and sound trapped around her. She could hear the crackle of a fire and the murmur of voices. Dandra concentrated on the voices, trying to sort them out. Two voices, one gruff, one softer and more pleasant. Both men.
A memory returned to her. Cold rock at her back, the strange six-legged creatures stalking toward her-and two men, a human and a fierce shifter, appearing from nowhere to come to her rescue. Her own outrage and the way it had drawn energies out of her she had thought drained by exhaustion.
The powerful slap of one of the creature's tentacles. Her impact with the rock she had chosen as her refuge. She focused her awareness on her body. To her surprise, she felt much better than she would have expected. The pains she had expected to find in her chest and in the back of her head were simply not there. The exhaustion that had all but crippled her-that was gone, too. She felt as if she had slept… for hours.
Panic's grip tightened around her heart. Tetkashtai! she called within the darkness of her mind. Tetkashtai!
Here! Like a lantern shone along a dark corridor, a yellow-green light blossomed in her mind's eye. The presence that was Tetkashtai swirled around her, wrapping her in a desperate embrace. Il-Yannah, Dandra. I couldn't wake you. The human cast some kind of spell on you!
Dandra returned the mental embrace. It must have been a healing spell, she said. I feel better than I have
