“You two sure know how to make friends,” Warbill says and takes a long sip of ale.
14
Maximus
Damien
“Ithink we should stay together tonight. Come to our wagon. There’s plenty of space,” I say to Eloise. I don’t trust this King Jaqual. Keeping us separate seems like a ploy to weaken us.
But Eloise shakes her head, and I know by her tone and the look she casts that it won’t be happening. “No. It isn’t done here.”
I cast her an incredulous look.
“You want their help, right? Then we need to live by their rules when we’re under their roofs. They’ve provided us food and shelter at a reasonable price. And I don’t think Jaqual buys that we’re peasants from Covellton anyway. He told me as much. So, the fact that he hasn’t kicked us out of the caravan is all the hope we need that he’s willing to talk.” We reach her pretty violet wagon, and she pulls out the gold butterfly-winged key. “Just plead our case. Try to keep an open mind. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She kisses me on the cheek, a quick peck that maintains enough distance to be appropriate for cousins, and then disappears inside.
“I hate this,” I say to Warbill, dark waves of foreboding rippling through me.
“Don’t waste all your hate on this,” he says. “Something worse is bound to happen soon. Especially considering you threatened the Rivertoad king with your sword at his throat.” He holds up our key. “Let’s go settle in and await the fresh horrors that will inevitably be sent our way.”
“You’re a real barrel of laughs, Warbill.”
“As are you, Sir Grump.”
“I may have made a mistake agreeing to bring you with us,” I grumble.
“Ah, good decisions rarely make for good stories.”
I make a lewd gesture in his direction and step into the wagon, pacing the small space as Warbill throws himself across his bed. It’s so late, I can see the silver edge of the moon threatening to rise for the day. We don’t have to wait long. A knock on the door comes after only my third lap. I look over my shoulder at Warbill and then move for the door.
A familiar man in a patchwork tunic and breeches stands outside, a brown cape draped over one shoulder and a scabbard on his hip. His face is impassive as he says, “You are interested in hiring a sword?”
“Yes. Please come in.” I open the door wider, and he enters. I know this man. He was once an umbrae under my command, but I can’t say anything without revealing my true identity, so I keep my mouth shut and pretend Idon’t recognize him. I back up toward my bed but don’t sit, opting to fold my arms over my chest instead.
The man positions himself at the center of the wagon with his back against the cabinets so he can see us both. “How many men do you need, and what are you willing to pay?”
“How many men do you have?”
“More than a peasant from the northwest Borderlands can afford.”
“You have no idea what I can afford.”
“Tell me more. How have you come by such a considerable sum as to think you can hire one mercenary, let alone many?”
I glance at Warbill, and he’s smart enough to know what I want him to do.
“What is your name?” Warbill asks.
“You can call me Maximus. I am the chosen leader of the band of mercenaries you wish to hire.”
“Commander of the Guard?” I ask.
“The Rivertoads have no guard. We are individuals who live by the sword, not nameless soldiers fighting for a power-swollen king.”
“Yet you do have a king,” Warbill adds, his brow furrowing.
Maximus chuckles. “I used to think like you.” He shakes his head. “The one we call king is not like the one that sits on New Stygarde’s throne. Things don’t work like that here.”
