The Black Egg

by James E. Wisher

  Brigid got up from her hiding spot. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s the bounty on your heads. Twenty scales for the pair of you.”

  “How did you know about that?” Yaz asked.

  The old man reached for his shirt.

  Yaz thumped his head on the floor. “Hold still.”

  “Okay, okay. No need to crack my skull. The wanted poster’s inside my tunic.”

  Yaz looked at Brigid who sighed. “Fine, I’ll get it.”

  She gingerly reached inside his tunic and came out with a rolled-up piece of paper. When she’d smoothed it out she showed it to Yaz. It said “Wanted” across the top with their pictures, fair likenesses too, and a list of their supposed crimes including murder of a guildsman. So that’s how they were explaining it. Pity he hadn’t smashed the other two’s heads in. Too late to do anything about it now.

  “The two guys that just left give the poster to you?”

  The old man nodded. “They’re guildsmen.”

  “Not scriveners.”

  “No, ironmongers. They sell me nails, horse shoes, that kind of thing. They’re handing out posters at every post. Please don’t kill me.”

  Yaz straightened. “I’m not going to kill you. For the record, the man I killed broke into our room at an inn with a weapon in his hand. In my place, you’d have done the same thing.”

  The trader tried to shrug while lying on the floor. “Don’t matter to the guilds. They don’t like anyone messing with their people. In their eyes, you should have lied down and died rather than injure their people. You’ll have no peace from them now.”

  “How much for the supplies?” Yaz asked.

  “Can’t sell to you. If word got out, I’d be in trouble.”

  “Have it your way.” Yaz collected his supplies and started for the door.

  “Hey! I said I can’t sell to you,” the trader shouted.

  Yaz looked back over his shoulder. “Do you hear me offering to pay?”

  He loaded the supplies onto Thunder and they set off. Those guildsmen would be back with friends soon enough. Yaz wanted to be far away when they arrived.

  Chapter 19

  Rondo could hardly believe it, but the flying ships crossed half the continent in three days. The journey would have taken months on horseback and weeks via river barge. The value of that sort of speed couldn’t be underestimated. No wonder Lord Black had built the ships. It had taken Rondo a few hours to get used to looking down on the world, but now he stood at the rail and studied the city of Port Steel without getting queasy. The view was a little hazy since he had to look through the outer edge of the illusory clouds hiding them from view.

  The port was the second-largest city in the Kingdom of Carttoom and the center of commerce. It was also known as the city of slaves given its largest commodity and the fact that the Chained Order made its base there. Rondo had never dealt with the Slavers Guild directly, but from Shade’s hints that was about to change.

  At the control pillar, dressed all in black as was her habit, Domina piloted all three ships. It took a wizard to control spirits, so she and Umbra had been taking turns. They flew out over the ocean, the ships turned, and descended as they approached the docks.

  Shade came up on deck and hurried to the front of the ship. Using hand gestures, he guided Domina to their assigned berth. The moment the hull hit the water, Lord Black came up as well. Since it was midmorning, bright and sunny, Umbra made no appearance. Rondo hadn’t had a chance to talk to the shadowy wizard and wasn’t at all eager to. Something about the man made him nervous. Maybe because he still hadn’t the slightest idea what Umbra actually looked like.

  A big man dressed in black trousers and a leather vest stood on the docks, a curved sword hanging at his waist. His arms were covered in scars as was his chest and face. Whoever he was he’d had a rough time of it at some point. At Lord Black’s gesture the gangplank floated up and over the rail, settling into place.

  The man on the docks marched up the ramp, stepped over the rail, went up to Lord Black, and clasped his wrist like they were old friends. “Leonidas, right on time as expected. I must admit, if I hadn’t seen your flying ships with my own eyes, I would have doubted their existence. Everything is ready?”

  “Yes, we strike in three days. Are your men prepared to board?”

  “All set. They’re gathering the last of the manacles and will be here soon. Are you certain three hundred pairs is enough?”

  A faint smile quirked the corner of Lord Black’s lips. “I didn’t do a census, Korbin. If we’re short there’s rope in the hold.”

  A deep scowl twisted Korbin’s face, making it even uglier. “I don’t trust rope. You want to keep a slave under control you need steel.”

  A trio of wagons heavily laden with men and supplies rumbled down the dock. “I believe your people are here,” Rondo said.

  Korbin shot Rondo a hard look. “Who’s this? A newcomer, at this juncture? Can he be trusted?”

  “He’s a new addition to my cadre. My people know their duties, rest assured.”

  “This is the biggest snatch in the history of the guild. Nothing can go wrong. My position as guild master is at stake.”

  “Nothing’s going to go wrong,” Lord Black said. “We’ve planned this for two years. You never struck me as the nervous sort, Korbin.”

  The slaver stepped back and reached for his sword.

  Shade seemed to appear out of nowhere, a dagger at Korbin’s throat. “Now, now, best keep a tight rein on that temper. Threaten the boss and losing your position with the Slavers Guild will be the least of your concerns.”

  Korbin’s suddenly pale face made his scars appear more prominent. He slowly moved his hand away from the sword’s hilt.

  “Steady, Shade,” Lord Black said. “I’m sure Korbin didn’t mean anything. You know how passionate warriors can be.”

  “Yes,” Korbin quickly agreed. “A momentary lapse, I swear. No offense was meant.”

  Shade’s easy smile returned and his dagger vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Of course.”

  Shade moved to stand beside Rondo who said, “I didn’t know you were so quick.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? In addition to ferrying messages I’m Lord Black’s assassin. Anyone gets in his way, I get them out of the way.” Shade scratched his cheek. “The boss hardly needs me protecting him, but it’s a reflex. Anything happens to him and I’m back working freelance.”

  The wagons clattered to a stop on the dock and burly men started hauling manacles up onto the ships. All of them appeared cut from the same cloth as Korbin. The slave trade probably didn’t attract scholars.

  “Is that the only reason you were so quick to protect him?” Rondo asked.

  “Hardly. The boss saved my life. Six years ago, I messed up on a job and got a bounty put on my head. A big one, five hundred gold scales. Lord Black paid off the woman that put the bounty on me. I don’t know what it cost him, but it was plenty you can bet. Anyway, once the hunters were off my tail, he offered to let me join his cadre. No threats, no or else. I was in the clear, but the idea of a steady position appealed to me, so I signed on. Haven’t regretted it for a second.”

  “Same deal with the others?” Rondo asked.

  Shade shrugged. “Umbra doesn’t talk to anyone, so I have no idea about him. Domina’s clearly totally in love with the boss. Don’t know why. They were both part of the cadre before I arrived and neither felt much need to spill their life story.”

  Rondo couldn’t say Shade’s tale surprised him. He figured everyone owed Lord Black a major debt which was why they were so trusted. Down on the dock, the wagons were rolling off back the way they’d come. The final man was inching his way up the gangplank. He was clearly no slaver. Dressed in a dark green robe and carrying a staff carved to resemble a dragon, he looked like a mystic. Long white hair hung past his shoulders and an equally impressive beard covered his lower face.

  “Who’s that?” Rondo a
sked.

  Shade shrugged. “Beats me. Some high muckety-muck in the Scaled Society come to make sure we don’t hurt the poor dragons.”

  Rondo’s heart skipped a beat. “Dragons?”

  Shade grinned. “Yeah. Don’t you know? The place we’re raiding is protected by dragons.”

  Rondo remembered the giant black dragon coiled around the swamp tower and shuddered. Why couldn’t he get away from bloody dragons?

  Chapter 20

  The path to Diamond Point was more of a goat trail. Moz let his horse pick its way along the narrow path and tried to ignore the sheer, hundred-foot cliff to his left. If the people ever had to defend their town, they’d have no trouble. A pair of archers could hold this path forever if they had enough arrows. Fortunately, the trail widened out again after a few hundred yards. If Moz had had to ride the whole way to the mining town beside that cliff his nerves would’ve been shot by the time he arrived.

  As it was, the familiar tension of visiting a new place filled him. Before he retired, any time the rangers went into unknown territory were always the most dangerous missions. The enemy knew the land and could set traps and ambushes. Hopefully no one knew he was on his way and if they did wouldn’t consider him a threat. All he wanted was information, not blood. The problem was, what he wanted and what he got were seldom the same thing.

  Around midafternoon, he reached a collection of rough-built wood buildings. This had to be Diamond Point. There were around thirty structures altogether, the largest of which he assumed was the tavern. The dirt streets were empty of everything but dust. Everyone was probably still working in the mine. If he hurried, maybe Moz could find out what he needed and get out of here before the miners returned.

  He stopped halfway down the main and only street and tied his horse up outside the tavern. It only had a single floor so probably no rooms for rent. How many people came to spend the night in a place like this anyway?

  A set of swinging half-doors filled the entrance and Moz pushed through. A handful of rough men sat at a table playing cards, a small pile of nuggets resting in the pot. They all stared at Moz with hard, angry eyes. The sour stink of cheap booze mingled with smoke and set his eyes to watering.

  Maybe he should have stayed with Ariel and Callie.

  Moz offered a polite nod and picked his way around the tables to the bar where a fat, bald man in an apron polished a pewter tankard.

  “Drink?” the barman asked.

  Moz shook his head. “Know a merc named Koltin?”

  “I’ve seen him around, but he and his boys left weeks ago and haven’t been back. You got business with him?”

  “I had business with him,” Moz said. “Now I’m trying to figure out who hired him.”

  The barman shrugged. “Afraid I can’t help you with that. I sell the mercenaries drinks and hear a tidbit now and again but poking your nose into their business isn’t a heathy proposition long term.”

  Moz grunted, disappointed but not surprised. “Did Koltin work for the mine?”

  “For a while, but he was too stupid and brutal. After he killed a miner for looking at him funny the bosses fired him and said if he didn’t want to end up at the bottom of their deepest shaft to keep out of their business. About a week and a half after that a weaselly little man in black arrived. Koltin and three other men left with him the same day.”

  “You’d never seen the man in black before?” Moz asked. “His name is Rondo.”

  The barman shook his head. “Never seen him before he walked into my tavern. He wasn’t the sort that comes here on business. The only people with money that come here are ore buyers. One look at that little man and you knew he wasn’t in the business.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s anyone else I might talk to that would know more?”

  “Doubt it. People tend to mind their own business around here. I’m sure the bosses were just happy to see Koltin leave.”

  “That seemed to be a common opinion wherever Koltin showed up.” Moz slapped a silver scale on the bar. “For your time.”

  The barman nodded, snatched up the coin, and went back to his polishing. Moz needed another line of questioning. Koltin was clearly a dead end and he had no idea where to even start looking for information on Rondo.

  Moz frowned. “One last question. Does the name Tegan mean anything to you?”

  The barman laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why would I be?”

  “Because the Tegan family owns the mine, the miners that work it, and this whole damn town. Have done for three generations.”

  A couple things instantly settled into place for Moz. Rondo must have known about the mercenaries from his time here so naturally he’d come home to hire them.

  “You said you saw Rondo Tegan but didn’t recognize him. How could you not recognize a member of the local lords?”

  “The high and mighty don’t mix with us regular folk. They keep to their mansion up near the mine. Got their own cooks, servants, soldiers, you name it. I don’t think a Tegan’s been to my tavern in fifteen years.”

  “Thanks.” Moz turned to leave.

  The men from the card game were on their feet, blocking his way. The central man, a bearded bruiser near seven feet tall and five feet across the shoulders said, “You say you seen little Rondo?”

  “That’s right, why?”

  “Bosses are going to want to talk to you. Rondo run away a few years ago and they been mighty worried and angry.” The big man scratched his beard. “Not sure why since he never was worth a damn, but that’s family for you. We’ll go up to the mansion and you can talk.”

  Moz debated for a moment, but this might work to his advantage. Besides, he didn’t want to kill five men if he could help it. “Okay, I’ve got some questions for them too.”

  Moz had visited the royal castle once to receive a commendation from King Rend. The place was huge and opulent beyond anything he’d ever experienced before or since. That said, the Tegan family mansion wasn’t far behind. Perched on a low hill overlooking a vast pit where scores of workers dug copper and iron ore, the family home sprawled more than towered. It was only two stories tall, but Moz guessed the ground floor covered ten thousand square feet. A crushed stone path that sparkled with flecks of copper led from the base of the hill up to the front door.

  His giant guide led the way while the remaining four thugs followed along behind. When Moz glanced back they glared and fingered the hilts of their swords. If they were trying to intimidate, they’d have to do better than that. These weren’t real fighters, just bullies used to pushing around exhausted miners. Moz doubted they’d last any longer than Koltin and his pals in a fight.

  At the top of a short flight of steps waited an elaborately carved, closed set of double doors. Bronze door knockers shaped like miniature pick axes hung from each door. The guide reached out and gave the left-hand door a few hard raps.

  Less than a minute later a stooped old woman in a black servant’s uniform opened the door. She looked at the collection of rough men on the porch and frowned. “You weren’t summoned.”

  “No,” the guide said. “But we have a visitor. He claims to have spoken to young Master Tegan. I thought Master Roland would want to know.”

  The maid’s beady black eyes shifted to Moz. “You’ve seen little Rondo?”

  “I spoke with a man calling himself Rondo Tegan. Whether he was telling me the truth, I have no idea.” Moz gave a quick description.

  “He was,” the maid said. “That sounds exactly like the young master. One moment while I see if Master Roland wishes to speak with you.”

  She slammed the door without inviting them in. “She’s a charmer.”

  “Balinda is the chief maid,” Moz’s guide said. “She runs the household with a fraction less kindness than the master runs his mine. She’s not a person to have as an enemy, at least not if you’re staying for dinner.”

  Moz grinned. But before he could comment the door opened again re
vealing Balinda’s cheerful form. “Master Roland will see you. Follow me.”

  The guide took a step, but Balinda stopped him with a single hard look. “Not you lot, just the one that saw Rondo.”

  The big man shrugged and made room for Moz. Roland must have been confident if he agreed to see Moz without his muscle along. This meeting might prove more interesting than Moz first thought.

  He followed Balinda down a long hall carpeted in red with polished wood walls. There was no art or anything to break up the paneling. No small tables held knickknacks. The passage was far more utilitarian than the giant mansion suggested from the outside. It was like opening an oyster expecting a pearl and finding nothing but sand.

  The hall led to an open door beyond which was a square room with a table and two chairs. A man around Moz’s age sat behind the desk. His hair was dark and slicked back, his cheeks sunk in revealing the shape of his skull. He dressed in a plain tan tunic. It was like someone took a human being and sucked everything kind out of him leaving only the bitter dregs behind. He looked enough like Rondo that Moz had no doubt he faced Roland Tegan.

  Standing beside Roland was another man, this one tall and lean with hard blue eyes that assessed Moz in a second. A long, curved sword hung at his waist and Moz had no doubt he knew how to use it. Whoever he was, he presented more of a threat than all the mercenaries that remained outside.

  “You’ve seen my son,” Roland said.

  “I have. He wanted to hire me to guide him through the Vast Swamp on a ruin-hunting expedition. I turned him down.”

  “Why?” Roland asked.

  “Because ruin hunting is a good way to end up dead. Your son either didn’t find the ruin or got lucky because he got out of the swamp alive. Then he and his mercenaries killed a farmer and his wife and tried to kidnap their daughter. I rescued her and killed the mercenaries.”

  “Can’t have been worth much,” the swordsman said.

  “They weren’t,” Moz said. “Rondo fled. Where he is now I couldn’t say.”