She had posed the suggestion to Raffan, who had surprised her by making a suggestion of his own.
“My patron … he’s considered this for some time, and had me investigate some possibilities. There is one in particular he thinks would be a viable choice.”
Shiera had only shrugged. So long as she remained in charge of the expedition, she had been willing to take the ever-anxious Raffan’s suggestion. Of course, Shiera had every intention of being the final judge when it came to whether or not this hire, one Daryus Gaunt, would become part of her work.
As she neared the single door, Shiera kept her hand near her short sword. She had trained long and hard to use the blade, as well as the more complicated weapon at her side.
Still focusing her attention on her nearing stalker, Shiera knocked twice on the weathered door. There was no answer. Raffan had suggested this time of day to better locate Daryus Gaunt without having to enter one of the taverns. Raffan didn’t want to draw extra attention to their efforts, and since his master was footing the expedition, Shiera chose to humor him.
She tried once more, acting nonchalant so that her would-be attacker remained ignorant of the fact that she was prepared for him. When Daryus Gaunt still did not come to the door, Shiera gave the stalker three more steps … then spun and drew her sword with one smooth movement.
Despite her initial confidence, she had to admit that she could not have predicted the tall, scarred, and lightly bearded figure standing just out of range. Shiera guessed that he could lift her up with one hand, though she was probably faster.
“One step closer and I’ll gut you,” she warned.
“What do you want with me?”
At first, his question made no sense. Then understanding dawned. “You—you’re Daryus Gaunt?”
“I am.”
She lowered the sword, but did not sheathe it. “You’re for hire as a bodyguard?”
The hint of some expression appeared and disappeared. Despite its brevity, Shiera recognized it. The burly man had looked relieved, almost as if he’d thought she had come here for a different reason.
“I am for hire, yes.”
“You were recommended by someone as honest and skilled,” she went on. “They say if I make a pact with you, you’ll fulfill it to the letter.”
“‘They’ say a quite a lot. I should speak with them sometime about that—who they are and why they know so much about me.”
Shiera ignored him. “I’m a Pathfinder. I need a strong, trusted arm to ride with me into the Worldwound. Just him and me. Knowing that, are you still for hire?”
Daryus shrugged. “I’ve journeyed the Worldwound more than once and survived. If you insist on going in there, pay my price and I’ll do my best to help you do the same.”
“How kind of you.” Something moved by man’s boots. At first, Shiera took it for some huge, pale rat. “What is that?”
The creature took up a position just in front of Daryus. Only then did Shiera see that it was a weasel with one eye shut tight.
“That is Toy,” Daryus finally answered with some sudden frustration. “If he bothers you, feel free to use that weapon on him—”
“No. No, he doesn’t bother me at all.” Although she had no time for pets, Shiera did like animals—something Daryus’s tone indicated that he did not share with her. That made it odd that he would have any sort of pet in the first place.
The mercenary tapped his shoulder. Toy immediately scurried up the man’s leg and torso. The weasel curled around Daryus’s neck. Curiously, Shiera noted again that Daryus did not appear pleased with the arrangement.
Daryus gestured at the door. “Inside.”
From anyone else, even a guard she was hiring, Shiera would have taken such a curtly spoken offer with caution. Still, Raffan had told her a few more things about Daryus that made her feel safe joining him.
He led her to the lone chair in his tiny quarters. At a glance, Shiera noted there was nothing permanent about Daryus’s abode, no real sign the man actually lived here. There were no personal effect, no clutter. There were a few bits of food and a couple of bottles of cheap wine, but they only added to the sense that the man before her only slept here while he waited to be somewhere else.
“Sit,” he ordered.
She realized she’d been hesitating about sitting. Obeying, Shiera noted each dangerous creak. The table and the chair were so old that anywhere else they would have been thrown in a fire or a trash pit. She marveled that a man as large as Daryus could use them without them breaking apart.
He leaned on the wall behind the table. “How much are you offering?”
“Don’t you want to hear exactly where we’re going?”
“You’re going into the Worldwound. That’s all that matters where the price is concerned. You plan to leave soon?”
“In two days, if possible. This will be a small expedition. I want to move fast and lightly. I’m searching for—”
He cut her off with the wave of his hand. “Some great artifact. All of you Pathfinders are always looking for some great artifact. How much?”
Biting back a retort, Shiera named a low price.
He grunted. “Food provided?” When she nodded, he grunted again. “Done.”
He needs to get out of the city, Shiera finally understood. Badly.
At some point, Toy had slipped from his master’s shoulder. Now, Shiera discovered the weasel nestled near her feet. He peered up at her with his one open eye. She wondered what had happened to the poor animal’s other eye.
“He’s fine,” Daryus said, as if reading her thoughts. “Am I to pick out our gear? Where do we meet?”
Somewhat defiantly, Shiera leaned down and patted Toy on the head. The weasel nestled his head in her palm until she withdrew it. “Everything else will be handled. I just need you to be there when we need to leave. Do you have a horse?”
“I did. I don’t.”
Shiera had a hard time trying to figure out if Daryus had some strange sense of humor or just answered things very bluntly. “Find one. It’ll belong to the expedition, but I want you to have an animal you trust. I’ve learned that works best.”
He nodded. “I’ll need half now, then.”
Without hesitation, she pulled free the pouch in which she kept the money Raffan had already paid her and pulled out the necessary amount. Shiera offered it to Daryus, but he nodded for her to just set it on the table. As she set the coins down, Shiera surreptitiously studied her new bodyguard. His eyes were not on her, but rather the coins. Unlike any other sword for hire, Daryus peered at the payment as if it were some foul thing. Daryus did not want to accept the gold, but had to do so.
That brought to mind the most intriguing thing that Raffan had told her about the mercenary. Well … that and the fact that he supposedly had elven blood going back a couple of generations. Shiera imagined that she saw the latter in his eyes and a bit in the shape of his face.
“You look to be a man worthy of his oath,” Shiera began as she sealed the money pouch. She decided to broach what Raffan hinted might be a delicate subject. “Someone who keeps it as strongly as a crusader might.”
He rewarded her with a severe narrowing of his eyes. “I keep my oath, yes.”
“The crusaders—”
Without warning, he turned to the door. “Do you need me before our departure?”
“No, but—”
Gaze turned from her, Daryus opened the door. “I’ll meet you by the Woundward gate at sunrise in two days. The money you left. I’m going to spend it on the supplies and pack animals we need for the expedition. It’ll be better that way. There are some things even you as a Pathfinder might not realize we’ll need. You can pay me back when we see each other. Agreed?”
Seeing that she had overstepped where his past was concerned, Shiera rose and simply replied, “Yes. Thank you. That would make things simpler on my end.”
“I’ll have everything ready. You have my … oath.”
He stood silent after that. Shiera moved past him and stepped through the open way. She was not surprised when the door shut right behind her.
Well, that was interesting, Shiera thought as she moved through the quarter. Curiously, she felt no uncertainty about Daryus. Whatever his troubles, Shiera believed he would indeed stand by his word.
She had nearly left the seedy area when she felt she was again being followed. Yet this time, there was something odd about whoever tracked her. They had such a light touch to their walk that only by the sheerest chance had she heard the movement. Even then, Shiera had not been certain at first.
She casually let her hand slip near her sword. This time, she had no intention of hesitating. Whoever was following her now had to be doing so for nefarious reasons. Certainly, Daryus Gaunt would not be trailing her again.
Shiera turned a corner. As she did, she drew the short sword and spun to face her foe.
Her sword met air.
For a moment, Shiera was baffled. Then, she realized there was someone on her trail … someone much tinier than she had been expecting.
Daryus’s pet weasel twitched his nose at her. Toy trotted back and forth, acting more like an eager puppy than what Shiera would have expected of one of his kind.
“Go home!” she ordered quietly. “Go!”
Toy scampered in a circle, returning to his original spot. His one open eye seemed to twinkle.
“Go back to your master! He’ll be missing you.”
Toy remained where he was.
Feeling somewhat foolish, Shiera sheathed her sword. She waved her hand toward the weasel, but he simply scampered back and forth a bit.
Exasperated, Shiera turned and continued on. Not at all to her surprise, she heard the light steps behind her.
Shiera paused. Looking over her shoulder, she muttered, “I said go home.”
This time, Toy blinked, then, with some hesitation, started back. Shiera watched the weasel, making certain he continued on. Only when Toy finally vanished into the darkness did she at last renew her journey.
However, even then, Shiera stopped a short distance later to check again. This time, there was no sign of the weasel.
Chuckling, Shiera left. Her mind began racing. Her expedition was coming together so quickly. It was almost as if the gods favored her decision.
* * *
Peering out of the darkness at the Pathfinder’s retreating back, Toy quietly chuckled, then pursued.
* * *
For Shiera, the two days passed quickly and yet much too slowly at the same time. There was so much to do that she had not considered. Even so, it was all Shiera could do to keep from rushing to the Woundward gate and waiting impatiently for Daryus to arrive with the supplies and the mounts.
But as the time finally neared and an anxious Shiera neared the gate astride her favored gray gelding, she encountered a surprise. There, seated on a horse and looking around with exasperation, was none other than Raffan. The moment he saw her, a sense of relief spread over his youthful face.
“Praise be! When you sent the note saying you were planning to depart two days hence, I expected you to be here well before dawn!”
“I intended that, too, but got delayed by a few things … but what are you doing here?”
“In his wisdom,” Raffan began, the last word said with a touch of uncertainty, “my master has decided that for the sake of his interests, I should go along with you.”
It was not an idea that appealed to Shiera, nor did it seem that Raffan liked it any better. He was clearly not someone who had labored hard physically. Still, Shiera decided that if the man wanted to simply sit somewhere and let her work, she could live with that.
“Ah! Praise be!” Raffan repeated, this time glancing beyond her. He looked even more relieved.
Shiera looked behind her. She expected Daryus, but instead beheld four rather unsavory men clad in brown and black. The lead rider had a long, narrow beard and a brow so thick his eyes were barely visible until he raised his head slightly to look at the pair.
“Captain Galifar,” he rumbled to her. The other three men did not speak.
“Shiera Tristane,” she responded, hiding her concern.
“I decided that the three of us alone can hardly journey into the Worldwound,” Raffan informed her. “Fortunately, I was able to quickly retain the services of the good captain here. It was like a miracle. He came across me as we both sought to enter the tavern where I hoped to find sellswords. The captain had just finished another contract. Isn’t that timely?”
Returning her gaze to Raffan, Shiera carefully answered, “When moving through the Worldwound, a small party is the safest bet. Larger parties get noticed easily. We don’t want that. With too many of us—”
“Of course,” Raffan interrupted, indicating the captain. “That’s why I’m relying on the expert skills of Galifar and his men. They are well qualified and should prove sufficient. I did consider hiring an entire squadron, and still could—”
“Captain Galifar and his men will do just fine.” As she said that, Shiera heard the officer—if indeed Galifar was one—snigger. She started to glare at him … only to find the reason for his amusement perched behind her.
Toy wrinkled his nose at Shiera. She tried to be annoyed, failed, and instead searched for the weasel’s master. To her puzzlement, Daryus was nowhere to be seen.
Raffan picked up on her action. “Where’s this man you hired? Does he need to sleep off a drunk, or will he be here soon?”
“He’ll be here.”
“You wrote that you let him handle the supplies. Are you certain he just didn’t run off?”
Before she could say anything, Daryus rode into view. Never had Shiera been so grateful for someone’s arrival. Not only did he clearly have the necessary supplies, as evinced by two fully loaded mules following Daryus’s mount, but he also guided an extra horse. If he had done all that with the money she had given him, then he was a shrewd negotiator.
As he approached, Shiera noted how his gaze took in Raffan, the captain, and the other mercenaries. Although she doubted any of them could see it, Shiera was fairly certain Daryus was no more pleased with the additions to their expedition than she was.
“Sorry for being late,” he rumbled. “Took a little longer to get the extra horse. Always good to have a spare.”
“Well, glad we’re all here now.” Raffan sniffed. “Captain, if you’ll lead the way.”
Shiera started. “Raffan, it would make more sense if I, or even Daryus, who’s familiar with the Worldwound, took the lead—”
“Oh, assuredly. Once we’re in the Worldwound. Until then, I think it’s best if the captain heads the party.”
“Seems reasonable,” Daryus murmured, much to Shiera’s surprise. “I’ll take the rear.”
For some reason, this choice did not sit well with Captain Galifar’s men. The captain himself kept his expression neutral, but Shiera suspected he was no more happy. Clearly none of the four trusted Daryus.
Raffan, meanwhile, looked oblivious to the situation. He sniffed again, then commented, “Well, that’s settled, then. Shall we begin, Captain?”
Galifar nodded. With a wave, he gestured his men forward. One joined the captain, while the other pair flanked Raffan protectively.
Daryus rode up beside her. “Your word is the final one as far as I’m concerned.”
“It was his master’s money. That makes him in charge.”
“It was you who convinced me to come. If he’d been the one seeking me out, I’d have found another way.”
He did not clarify, instead slowing his mount so as to take his position at the rear. Even though she could no longer see him, Shiera discovered she felt much more secure now that he was there. It was an odd feeling—being glad there was someone else literally at her back—but Shiera chalked it up to the trek ahead. The Pathfinder thought herself a good enough judge to believe that Daryus was more than equal to the four men Raffan had hired.
<
br /> Captain Galifar led them through the Woundward gate. A shiver ran through the Pathfinder—not of fear, but of anticipation.
From the Worldwound, the lost temple-city—and the mysterious Eye—beckoned her like a lover.
6
WHIRLWIND JOURNEY
Although he gave no sign of it, Daryus did not relax until he was well past the heavy wooden gate and the crusaders guarding it. Each moment, he had expected someone to recognize him, but no one did.
Yet, with his own situation of less significance now, Daryus’s guilt concerning Shiera Tristane grew. He hoped he had not involved her in more than she expected.
His gaze fixed on Toy, who sat atop the back of the Pathfinder’s saddle as if he had been her pet all his life. Despite the familiar’s earlier entreaties, Daryus did not completely trust the weasel. Toy tried too hard to ingratiate himself. The creature was up to something, but exactly what, Daryus could not say.
However, what he did trust was that whoever had sent the pitborn assassins into a crusader stronghold was someone with ill intent for more than merely an escaped familiar. The witch—Grigor Dolch, if Daryus remembered the name correctly from Toy’s rambling explanations—was likely everything Toy had portrayed him as. After revealing his monstrous eye, Toy had gone on to describe the tortures Dolch had inflicted upon him, tortures culminating in the demonic orb.
Now that he was safe from discovery by his old order, Daryus considered carefully the options open to him. Toy had insisted that Dolch would see the mercenary as an enemy since Daryus had interfered with the familiar’s slaughter. According to the weasel, the assassins would have already marked Daryus. Indeed, they probably even believed that he had been in some alliance with the familiar even before the incident.
Again, Daryus could not deny Toy’s suggestion. Witches—most spellcasters, in fact, at least in his experience—had a tendency to remove anything they thought remotely an obstacle to their goals. Moreover, the same traits that had made Daryus a good crusader now demanded that he perform his duty and remove the threat of the witch. The witch was evil. Evil had to be crushed—
Pathfinder Tales--Reaper's Eye Page 5
