The Weapons Master's Choice

“Two blinks of an eye and a knife. Why have you come to find me? What need do you have of a man like me?”


She thought about it a moment, and then she smiled. “Can we eat first? Your trout is in danger of being overcooked.”

He poured ale from a skin into tin cups, and they sat together in silence while they ate their meal. All around them, the night sounds quickened as the darkness deepened and the quarter moon and stars came out. From out of a cloudless sky, clean white moonlight flooded the woods.

When they were finished, he scraped the plates and rubbed them clean with grasses before beginning on the skillet.

“You take good care of your equipment,” she observed.

He smiled. “What do you wish of me, Lyriana?”

She smiled back, but the smile was quick and small. “Help. I want you to come with me to Tajarin, my home city. I want you to put an end to what’s happening there. My people are being decimated. A warlock of enormous power is preying upon them. His name is Kronswiff. Do you know the name?”

He shook his head. “Nor do I know of Tajarin, and I thought there was no city in all of the Four Lands of which I had not heard. How did I miss this one?”

“It lies far outside the usual routes of travel, north and east on the shores of the Tiderace. It is very old. Once it was a seaport, hundreds of years ago. But those days are gone. Now it is home to my people and no longer known to the larger world. But what matters is that those who live there cannot protect themselves against what it is being done to them. They stay because they have nowhere else to go. They need someone like you to help them.”

“The Tiderace is a long way from here. I am awaiting word of a commission from Tyrsis. Agreeing to come with you would disrupt those plans.”

“Are you refusing me?”

“I haven’t heard enough yet to decide.”

Her lips tightened. “I need someone who will not turn on my people once the warlock is defeated. They are vulnerable, and I want to be sure they will be left alone afterward. There are few whose reputations suggest they could be counted on to do the right thing.”

She paused. “I am running out of time. I was sent because I was the strongest and most capable. Kronswiff bleeds my people as cattle are milked; many are already gone. If we do not hurry back, they will all be lost.”

“He is only one man. Are there not enough of you to stand against him?”

“He is not simply one man; he is a warlock. And he has men who follow him and do his bidding. They have taken over the city, and those of us he has not imprisoned are in hiding. No one dares to challenge him. A handful did so early on and were quickly dispatched.”

She paused. “This will not be an easy task. Not even for you. The warlock is powerful. His men are dangerous. But you are our best hope.”

“Perhaps a unit of the Border Legion might be a better choice. They undertake rescues of this sort when the need is clear.”

She shook her head. “Did you not hear what I said? We are speaking of a warlock. Ordinary men—even ones with courage and weapons and determination—will not be strong enough to stand against him. Will you come?”

“What am I to be paid for this?”

“Do you care?”

That stopped him. He stared at her. “Are you telling me you want me to do this for nothing? That there is to be no payment?”

She curled her lip. “I had judged you to be a better man than this. I had been told that money meant nothing to you. It was the challenge you cared about. Is this not so? Is money what matters? Because if it is, I will pledge you all the coin in the city, every last piece of gold and silver you can carry away.”

“All of your coin; all of your silver and gold? All of it?” He laughed. “What does that mean? That you haven’t got any gold or silver? Or have you so much you can afford to give it away?”

“It means that our lives are more precious than our riches. That our peace of mind and security are worth more than whatever must be paid to protect them. I’ll ask you once again. Will you come with me?”

Something about what she was telling him felt wrong, and his instincts warned him that she was keeping secrets. But they also told him that her need was genuine, and her plea for his assistance was heartfelt and desperate.

“How far is Tajarin?” he asked her.

“Perhaps seven or eight days,” she said.

“On horseback?”

“Horses can’t get to where we are going. So mostly we must go on foot. Does this matter?”

He shrugged.

“Will you come, then?”

He finished with the skillet, taking his time. “Let me sleep on it. Come back to me in the morning.”

She shook her head. “I have nowhere to go. I will sleep here with you.”

He studied her carefully. Then he rose, brought out his extra blanket, and handed it to her. “Find a place close to the fire. It gets cold at night.”