Page 20 of Silk Skullduggery (Haven Hollow #40)
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Grudges
Dungeon Raider #1
by J.R. Rain
and H.P. Mallory
(read on for a sample)
Rogue
The old man didn’t know I was there until he felt my hand cover his mouth.
A lifetime of mining had permanently hunched his back, so now his head was level with my own—something that would make restraining him easier.
He tried yelling through my fingers, while I yanked him into the shadowy tavern corner. “Oh, for Hellate’s sake, keep it down!” I hissed into his ear. “It’s me!”
The sound of my voice was enough to make him relax. Once I was sure he wasn’t going to make any more noise, I released him. While he turned around to face me, I took the opportunity to pull back the hood of my cloak so he could see me. Thanks to a minor enchantment on the cloak, I was wearing blonde hair tonight. That way, if he had to describe me, he wouldn’t know my hair was truly red.
The old man wheezed in relief, his liver-spotted face looking like he was a heartbeat away from fainting. “Great Gods of Pantheosis, girl, but you gave me a fright.”
“This isn’t the kind of talk I want overheard,” I told him, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the tavern. Since it was mid-afternoon, the Leering Goat was only beginning to get its regular crowd. While there were quite a few people already filling the small space, there weren’t nearly as many as would arrive later that night. And that’s exactly why I’d been skulking in the corner for the last hour—not enough people with which to blend in.
He swallowed hard. “You got the coin?”
I fixed my emerald eyes on his dull brown ones. “Only if you’ve got the information.”
His expression grew shrewd as he held out his rough, callused hands. “Coin first.”
“Fine,” I sighed, slapping the five gold sovereigns into his hand. He appeared amazed when the coins appeared to pop out of my previously empty palm.
Sleight of hand is a thief’s best friend.
He jiggled the coins around, held one up to the distant firelight, and even stuck it between his teeth. The telltale dents from his bite told him it was the real thing. I couldn’t blame him for being careful—forgery isn’t nearly as hard as some fools think.
When he finished his inspection, I raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded and pocketed the coins quickly. “You should stay out of them mines, girl. The Forge is a dangerous place to go.”
I felt a rush of heat to my cheeks. I hated it when someone told me what to do—or not to do. “I paid you to tell me something I don’t know about the place.”
He looked at me like I was a disobedient daughter set on marrying the wrong man. “I’m telling you for your own good. Even if you had an army at your back, there’s no way a wee slip of a girl like you would ever get past them orcs.”
“Why? Do they have a spell-caster with them?”
“No.”
“Weaponry no one’s ever seen before?”
Going by the way he licked his lips, he must have sensed my anger. “No, there’s just… so many of them. And then there’s Horncall...”
My ears perked at the first real morsel of information he’d bothered to give me. “Horncall?”
“Yeah, Druam is his birth name. But his earned name is Horncall.”
Now we were getting somewhere . “And he’s the orc leader?”
“Only leader anybody’s ever seen, so I guess so. From what I hear, he runs them orcs like a steel ramrod.”
“What else can you tell me?”
The old man shook his head. “That’s all I know.”
I frowned. “That’s it? I paid you good coin for BS I could have gotten from the gossip of the tavern wenches?”
As best he could, the old man straightened his bent back and tried to loom over me. “No, you paid me to tell you what I know of the Forge. An’ that I have. Now if you’re done with this foolishness, I’ll be on my way.”
He turned around to hobble off, never noticing I’d picked his pocket. Four gold coins went back into my purse via the five finger refund. I left him the one he’d bitten into because I figured his information was worth something.
***
I spent a good while longer in that corner, brooding over how the old man had sold me a bad bill of goods. Wanting to change my appearance, I let the magic of my cloak darken my hair to ebony. Meanwhile, I made sure the cloak kept my clothes the same mottled gray they’d been before. The cloak was a recent acquisition, and I’d been dubious when my last client mentioned how useful it could be—allowing the wearer to change their appearance—going from pure invisibility to changing the color of one’s hair and clothing. But seeing was believing.
I wished I could say the village of Buscema was similarly impressive.
Three days in this pitiful mining town had felt like three months. I’d spent the first two days trying to get someone to talk to me about the Forge, a mine the orcs had invaded three years ago. But, no one bothered answering any of my questions; they acted like I didn’t exist while they went on their merry way. The first two, I’d robbed for the insult. But between the two of them, they hadn’t had more than a couple of coppers. It was so pitiful, I’d put the coins right back where I’d gotten them. Truth was, if I robbed every person in this village, I wouldn’t wind up with a single gold coin worth my trouble.
And that was when someone walked into the tavern who looked like he was definitely bearing the weight of a few gold coins. My night was immediately improved. One glance at his clothes and I knew he was a Paladin. No one else wore that much white over their chainmail. The tree symbol on his chest, every bit as green as my eyes, revealed a bevy of branches and an equal number of roots. Both intersected on the edge of the symbol in a perfect circle. Only Paladins attached to the Temple of Pantheosis, the kingdom’s leading religion, wore such a symbol.
The man himself was handsome enough to influence a weaker female. Luckily for me, I was hardly weak. I judged him to be a little over thirty years old. A few years older than me. He had a high forehead, framed with flowing brown hair that reached his shoulders. It was a good match for the full beard that gave him a slightly regal air, the kind of nobility actual nobility wishes they could buy.
I had to admit there was something… appealing about him. It could have been the mere fact that he was a Paladin—a knight who had dedicated himself to a life of chastity. And P aladin in my eyes = challenge. And challenge = interesting. But the need to steal from him was far stronger than my need to bed him. There was just something about upright “paragons” of self-righteousness that made me want to rob them blind. Besides, it was important to continuously hone one’s skills—you never know when times will be lean.
When I stepped out of the shadows, his eyes met mine immediately. But, only briefly. Yes, I could have made myself invisible with my cloak, but what was the fun in that? It was much more rewarding to pickpocket someone using one’s own merits—not cheating with an invisibility cloak. Besides, I couldn’t stay invisible for long—the cloak only allowed for maybe thirty seconds or so.
I watched as the Paladin’s gaze continued to move around the room, like he was expecting someone.
Better and better , I thought while I glided out of my corner. His focus was elsewhere, which meant he wouldn’t feel the brush of my hand when I passed by. The crowd was still sparser than I would have liked, but it also provided me with a sense of adventure. It was almost too easy to rob someone in a heavy crowd. It took true skill to pickpocket someone without the guise of other people.
One look at the size of that purse at his side and I knew it would be child’s play to swipe it before he even realized it was gone.
I timed my steps and waited until some of the villagers pushed past him on their way to the bar. Then I slid up behind him and lifted his purse. If he realized he’d been robbed, he’d most likely blame them.
After releasing his burden, I didn’t stop walking until I was free of the Leering Goat. As soon as I rounded the west side of the tavern, I dotted into the bordering alleyway and opened the purse. I felt my cheeks burn as soon as I saw what was inside. Coins, yes, but useless ones—all coppers.
Bloody hell!
I glanced inside the pouch again and found a folded sheet of heavy paper that carried the faint whiff of incense.
Was it some sort of spell? I wondered while I pulled the paper out. Or a border pass allowing the bearer to enter into a neighboring kingdom unquestioned?
I turned out to be wrong on both counts.
The paper revealed a set of orders, detailing how the recipient needed to move his cargo to the capitol at daybreak. It was signed in some illegible scrawl with a wax version of the tree I’d seen on the Paladin’s chest. The only truly useful piece of information was the cargo’s location—the old Shylack Theater on the eastern outskirts of Buscema—and the identity of the cargo itself, the Diamond of Daystar.
I took a deep breath.
In my circles, gems like the Diamond were legends, and this one carried an impressive history, going all the way back to the First Empire. But more importantly, the Diamond of Daystar was worth so much, I could retire on the spot.
Yet, there was something about this whole situation that made no sense. First of all, the letter should have been heavily guarded, so people like me couldn’t get to it. And secondly, what in the world was a Paladin doing in the Leering Goat in the first place? Unless he was a thief who had dressed the part and picked up the parchment from someone else?
Realistically, the paper could have been a load of guff—false information printed with the supposition that whoever stole it would go after the Diamond. For all I knew, there was no diamond and this whole thing was a sham.
But, why would someone go to such an extent to fake it?
There was only one way to find out.
***
The Shylack turned out to be a wooden two-story building that had seen better days. The good news was that it was so isolated, the chances of outside reinforcements showing up was totally nonexistent. The bad news was that the place had absolutely nothing else around it. A wide open field surrounded the Shylack for nearly fifty feet in every direction. Even under the cover of darkness, anyone walking towards it would stand out to the pair of sentries up on the roof. Anyone, including myself.
I pondered the situation as I put my pocket spyglass down. Despite the lack of cover just around the building, what little woods this area offered allowed me to case the place from fairly decent shelter. The sun was going down behind me, just starting to dip beneath the mountain peaks. Once it was dark, I’d make my move.
I’d been watching the sentries for several minutes, and no one was circling the ground level. Anyone else—and there had to be someone else—would be inside to watch the gem itself. I couldn’t imagine there were that many on duty, though. No, it appeared they were trying to make up what they lacked in raw numbers in fortification and secrecy.
I started wondering if going after the diamond was such a good idea. I’d normally try to plan for three days ahead and here I was doing this on a whim. But the orders on the sheet of paper had been fairly clear about how quickly the Paladin wanted to move on. If I was going to do this, it had to be tonight.
The irony of my situation kept coming back to me. If I hadn’t grabbed the Paladin’s purse, I’d be back on the road right now, on my way out of this crappy town. Considering who was chasing me, leaving the village was probably still the best choice.
But how could I pass up loot this good?
In short, I couldn’t.
Grudges
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