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pain in his fingers, he considered what his dove had shown him. After leaving
the queen yesterday, Baralis had returned to his chambers, deciding he would
look upon the capture after all. The dove had seen his men descend on the
fugitives. It had watched as the girl and boy were separated. Baralis looked
on as the greatest number of mercenaries had followed the girl, sending only
three of the number after the boy. He had willed the dove to follow the plight
of the girl, who he felt might be easily lost on horseback. He had seen the
approach of
Maybor's men and had watched as both sides let the girl slip away.
His dove followed the girl and, satisfied that she would not go much further,
he sent the bird to look for the boy. The boy was nowhere to be seen.
Baralis had remained calm; the baker's boy was merely a puzzle that needed
solving, while Maybor's daughter was a hindrance to glory. He sent the
reluctant bird back to watch the girl. Once she'd made camp for the night,
Baralis let the dove sleep. The bird was cold and exhausted, and he feared it
would not be long before the unfortunate creature died.
As the holk alleviated his pain a little, Baralis considered what to do next.
In all likelihood, Maybor knew by now that the men out looking for Melliandra
were in his pay. Maybor was sure to move against him-those damned fool
mercenaries had tried to rape his only daughter! Maybor would bear watching
closely: an indignant father could be a dangerous adversary.
"No, Bodger, the way to tell if a man's well hung ain't the size of his
kneecaps."
"Old Master Pesk says it is, Grift."
"The reason why old Pesk says that is because he's got kneecaps the size of
watermelons."
"They are unusually big, Grift. I can't argue with that."
"No, Bodger, the way to tell if a man is truly well hung is to look at the
whites of his eyes."
"The whites of his eyes?"
"Aye, the whites of his eyes, Bodger. The whiter the eye, the bigger the pole.
It's right every time."
The two men pondered this thought for a while, Bodger secretly planning to
check out his own eyes at some point. They downed some more ale and then the
talk moved to other matters.
"Here, Grift, something's going down at the moment, mercenaries in the castle
grounds, fighting in the woods. Just this morning I saw a face I hadn't seen
in a long time."
"Who was that, Bodger?"
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"Remember Scarl?"
Grift took a sharp intake of breath. "Scarl. This bodes no good, Bodger.
Scarl's one villainous fox. I
wouldn't care to cross him."
"Too right, Grift. Last time Scarl was seen in the castle more than one man
ended up with his throat slit."
"If I remember correctly, Bodger, last time he was here, Lord Glayvin met a
sticky end."
"He was the one who refused to sell his pear orchards to Maybor, wasn't he?"
"Aye, Bodger. His widow had no such compunction, though. After her husband's
death, she sold
Maybor those orchards so fast you'd think they'd been riddled with brown
worm."
Maybor decided that this meeting was best held out in the open, away from the
listening ears of the court. He had been careful to choose a place in the
castle grounds where he and his companion would be undisturbed. Downwind of
the middens was just such a spot. Maybor covered his face with a handkerchief
to prevent as much of the foul smell from entering his nose as possible. This
action also had the added benefit of concealing the greater part of his
features.
Maybor watched as the assassin approached. He was a slight man, not strong but
rumored to be wiry and quick. No one, it was said, was craftier or more
skilled with a blade. "Well met, friend," said
Maybor.
"I wish you joy of the day, Lord Maybor." The assassin scanned the area. "You
have picked a foul spot in which to meet."
" 'Tis a foul deed that needs be done."
"Whose absence from the world do you seek this time, my lord?" The assassin
constantly watched the surroundings, making sure no one approached.
Maybor had no love for mincing words. "I seek the death of Baralis, the king's
chancellor." Their eyes met and held, it was the assassin who looked away
first.
"Lord Maybor, I think you know just how powerful Baralis is. He is more than
man; he is said to be a master." Maybor didn't like to think on such things.
He tried to convince himself that Baralis' powers were nothing more than
hearsay, but he never quite quite succeeded-a smidgen of doubt always
remained. He wasn't about to let the assassin know that, though-the man's
price would double if he thought sorcery was involved. "Listen, Scarl, Baralis
is not as powerful and all-seeing as everyone thinks.
He has his weakness. A keen blade will slit his throat the same as it would
any man's."
"His chambers will be warded against intruders."
"That is not my concern. You must evade anyone who blocks your path," said
Maybor, deliberately misinterpreting Scarl's words. He was damned if the
assassin was going to talk openly about sorcery!
They both suspected the riskswhy add weight to them by giving them air? "It is
your job to find the time and place when he is most vulnerable. All I ask is
that there be no trail leading back to me."
"Are you presuming to tell me how to do my job, Maybor?" The assassin spoke
lightly, but there was a hint of reproach in his voice.
"No, no. I am anxious that the deed be done. Too long has Baralis held power
in the court." Maybor took a deep breath, forgetting where he was, and his
lungs filled with the stench of human waste. He coughed violently, ridding
himself of the foul air.
Scarl looked on, a hint of distaste showing upon his clever face. "I do not
much like the sound of this commission. There is great risk."
"Name your price," uttered Maybor, impatient to be away.
"The price will be high." The assassin raised a querying eyebrow.
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"It is of no matter. I will pay whatever you ask."
"I have no need of money, Maybor. Well you know I am paid a good price for my
work. No, I seek a little something for my retirement."
"Yes, yes, name it."
"I want land, Maybor. I fancy growing apples when I'm older."
Maybor did not like the sound of this; nothing was more precious to him than
his land. "I will give you two hundred gold pieces," he countered.
"No." The assassin moved away as he spoke. "No, Maybor, I would have land in
payment, or I shall take my skills elsewhere."
Maybor relented. "Very well, I will give a stretch of land in the north. I
have thirty acres outside Jesson that you can have."
"Apples grow better in the east," said the assassin.
"I cannot think why you would want land in the east with the war against the
Halcus still raging."
"Wars of man come and go. Land endures."
Maybor relented. "So be it. I will give you twenty acres of orchards in the
east."
"You would give me thirty in the north," replied the assassin, once again
stepping away.
"Very well. I will give you your thirty acres. But you will not see a blade of
grass until I have proof you have done your job."
The assassin nodded. "I think we have reached a fair agreement. I will take
the commission."
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