He sat there for a few minutes, just going over everything in his head, wondering if he’d missed something. He didn’t think he had.

  Someone is coming, Xilly’s urgent thought flared in his mind.

  Rellen’s hand went immediately to the grip of a falchion. Which way? Rellen strained to hear footfalls or anything else that would give away their position.

  From the way we came, she replied. Rellen still didn’t hear a thing. He’s quiet, I’ll give him that, Xilly said, sounding impressed. Oh, she added a moment later, it’s just Mygal.

  Rellen released the grip of his blade.

  “I thought I’d find you down here,” Mygal whispered as he appeared out of the darkness and stepped up beside Rellen. “I didn’t hear you get up. Writing home?”

  Rellen nodded, releasing his sword. “Just did. You?”

  “I haven’t since we left Svennival. I knew you were sending reports, and I told the king anything I said would duplicate that. No point in it, and there was some risk at being discovered.”

  “Agreed,” Rellen said, rising to his feet. “What made you want to tonight? Anything in particular?”

  “Not really. I figured it would be safe tonight, since those two are sleeping in the carriage rather than out in the open.”

  “The Delvers really shook Javyk.” Rellen had gone over the whole thing in his mind again and again. “He said he was warned that he needed extra protection, but I’m convinced he had no idea Delvers were involved, which suggests one of two things.”

  “What?”

  “That either the person he works for didn’t know or didn’t bother to tell him, and either answer just begs more questions.”

  “Why are Delvers such a big deal?”

  Rellen let out a patient breath, remembering that he needed to be Mygal’s mentor. “You just don’t think about them, do you?”

  “Delvers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well… no… I suppose I don’t.”

  “Have you ever dealt with them? Had them involved in something you were doing, commit a crime, want information? Anything at all? Have you ever even just traded with them?”

  Mygal went quiet for a moment. “No, actually. I can’t say that I have.”

  “But you’ve seen them around, especially in Central Pelinon, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Delvers are a curious people,” Rellen said. “They keep to themselves. They don’t share. They don’t ask for anything. The only overlap there is between their society and ours are those points where trade takes place, and that’s only because it is of use to them. They’ve never seemed to have much interest in humans as a whole.”

  “But they’re part of Pelinon… they have a duchy right in the middle of the kingdom.”

  “That’s true, but you won’t find many humans living in the Duchy of Draksymsur. The caravans that pass through don’t linger. Delvers have a funny way of letting you know you’re not welcome.”

  “What about around here? Delvers have a huge presence.”

  “They do, but their business is their own, and they keep it that way. As we ride through the city tomorrow, keep an eye out for Delvers and whether or not any of them are chummy with humans or any of the other races you come across. The odds are, you won’t see it, or if you do, it’ll be once or maybe twice… That’s all.”

  “Have you dealt with them?” Mygal asked.

  “A few times in my life.”

  “And?”

  “And that’s all I’m going to say about it. Like I said, their business is their own.” Rellen stepped away from the rock and motioned for Mygal to sit down. “Kept it warm for you,” he said, smiling in the darkness.

  Mygal sat down a bit stiffly as Rellen moved off. “Rellen?”

  “Yes?”

  “You have an awful lot of secrets.”

  “Yes.” Rellen said unapologetically, “Yes, I do.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Serpent in the Grass

  Tavyn had always been a light sleeper, so he heard Mygal loose his shackles and slip off into the darkness, presumably to catch up with Rellen, wherever he went. It was the best opportunity he’d had in a while to check in with his employer. He wasn’t worried about Miranda. She snored like a sawmill and was obviously sound asleep. Tavyn had reported in every three days as instructed, usually when the others were asleep. The day’s events, however, seemed worth an early report. Once Mygal left, Tavyn reached out and focused his will upon the large onyx set into the bracelet his employer had given him. He felt his way into the magics within and opened the connection.

  Milord, he called.

  There was a pause of a dozen heartbeats.

  I hear you. The man’s voice came immediately into Mygal’s thoughts. What do you have to report? I’m assuming there’s a reason you’re checking in a day early.

  There is. Rellen and Miranda have been hired as bodyguards by the Nissran Javyk, and once we get past Jabono, it is likely Mygal and I will join them under the guise of escaped bounties looking for work as bodyguards.

  Why?

  Rellen believes it’s the best way to find out who Javyk is working for and what they want that artifact for.

  Have you learned anything more about it? His employer had seemed keenly interested in the artifact’s potential uses, from the first moment Tavyn had mentioned what Dancer carried.

  Nothing about the artifact. It’s still a mystery, apparently one for Javyk as well. It seems even he does not know what it’s for. There is one thing though, and it’s why I’m contacting you.

  What is it?

  Tavyn gently reached out with his ermajea, sending the lightest of tendrils across the connection. Delvers are involved, he said. He’d wanted to surprise his employer with that part, to gauge the man’s reaction. He knew better than to ask what it was all about, but how people responded to such things told astute men like Tavyn a great deal.

  Delvers? his employer replied. He seemed surprised, but only slightly so. Tavyn had expected his employer to be as shocked as Rellen had been, but this seemed little more than just a new and small detail in a very complex puzzle. I hadn’t expected that. Tell me exactly what happened.

  A small group of Delvers attacked the Nissrans today when Javyk went to meet them, and it seemed clear they were after both the sword and the artifact. Rellen believes they got the sword. The artifact is still with Dancer.

  Now that is interesting, his employer said, and there was a long pause. It would seem the Delvers know more than I’d hoped, although that isn’t surprising. Did Rellen give any indication he knew who they were?

  No, Tavyn replied. He seemed mystified by their involvement.

  He may not have recognized them.

  Sir?

  Never mind. Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Play the part. Report. And if it looks like you’ll be captured by those Delvers, make certain they don’t find that bracelet. Dispose of it if you must, but only if there is no choice.

  Why? Something like this must be worth a fortune.

  It is. More than you could possibly imagine. If they find it on you, they will torture you to get to me, and neither of us wants that.

  Tavyn swallowed hard. That was a bit more than he’d bargained for. I’ll keep that in mind, he finally said.

  You do that, and check in once you reach Jabono.

  His employer broke the connection.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  A Plan Bears Fruit

  The caravan continued its long, uphill slog along a zigzagging stretch of the King’s Highway that cut through the mountains between Sylverwynd and Jabono. Xilly paced them through old-growth pines that followed along on either side of the road. Rellen rode beside Javyk’s carriage, while Miranda paced along ahead of the horses pulling it. They’d had their obligatory fight about being hired by Javyk the night before, and a fierce argument in the morning about securing Mygal and Tavyn’s horses to the back of the carriage. Javyk had offered, Rellen had accepted, and Miranda had objected because she wanted control of the two, rather than having them just pulled along. Tavyn and Mygal’s horses ended up being tied to the back of the carriage, their shackles secured to their saddles.

  It all had gone exactly the way Rellen planned. He’d needed to create an opportunity for Javyk to feel comfortable conversing with him. With that riding arrangement—with everyone else just out of earshot, it was now inevitable.

  “Rellen,” Javyk called out, leaning his head slightly out the carriage window. “Could you come a bit closer? I wish to have a word.”

  “Of course.” Rellen pulled lightly back on the reins and guided Shaddeth closer to the wheels. “What can I do for you?”

  He took a quick glance at Dancer before focusing his attention on Javyk. The lad was huddled in the rear seat up against the far wall, asleep. He did not look well. His skin was almost as pale as Javyk’s, but with a sickly pall that seemed decidedly unnatural.

  “How long have you been a bounty hunter?” Javyk asked.

  “Formally?” Rellen said, feigning surprise at the question. He’d been hoping Javyk was going to start a conversation. “For about six years… at least, that’s when I joined the Guild.”

  “Do you enjoy it?” Javyk seemed to be genuinely interested in the answer.

  Rellen was silent for a moment. “I enjoy good whisky. I enjoy hunting koodoo bucks in the mountains when the trees turn orange. I’m good at what I do, and I do what I’m good at to do what I enjoy.”

  “That seems very practical,” Javyk replied. “As do you.”

  “Most bounty hunters are. We sort of have to be. Pragmatic. Unencumbered by compassion. Driven by coin. And, as a rule, unencumbered by extraneous relationships.”

  “Your wife being an exception?”

  Rellen let out a long, weary breath. “Not really. That was pragmatism more than anything else. We discovered we work well together and endure each other to earn more coin.”

  “I don’t suppose you’re a religious or even spiritual man, considering all that.”

  Rellen chuckled bitterly. “I never had much use for the gods, like I told you before. My mother died screaming and coughing up blood with Selestina’s name on her lips.” Rellen’s resentment for the gods was as genuine as the shining sun. His mother had been a devotee of Selestina. Prayers hadn’t kept her from being cursed or dying in a bathtub. Neither had Rellen. Deep down, he blamed Selestina as much as he blamed himself. “They never did anything for me. I stopped when they planted my mother in the ground.”

  “There are some gods and demi-gods who answer prayers… for the truly faithful, anyway,” Javyk said. “Although there is frequently a price.”

  “Are you saying my mother wasn’t faithful enough?” Rellen replied with a bit of venom. “That Selestina rejected her because she didn’t believe enough? Sacrifice enough?” Rellen let some of his genuine anger flow through.

  “Not at all,” Javyk said, holding up a calming hand. “I wouldn’t ever presume.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he were searching for the right words to say. “What I am saying is that, with some of the gods, those truly devoted can overtly benefit from their faith… even their adoration.”

  “I’d believe it when I saw it,” Rellen replied. “Are you one of them?”

  “It’s not something I like to talk about with just anyone,” Javyk replied smoothly. “There are those who would… misunderstand… judge unfairly. Regardless, the answer would be meaningless to anyone other than myself and those who share my beliefs.”

  “Well then, who or what do you believe in?”

  “I don’t believe I’m quite ready to share that with you.”

  “Suit yourself,” Rellen replied. He paused for a moment and then glanced at Javyk, looking as casual as he could muster. “Not that it’s any of my business, but what was that whole trade thing about? I’m assuming that firebrand was payment or a reward for something.”

  Javyk stiffened suddenly, a suspicious look on his face. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Seems a lot of trouble to go through just to deliver a simple sword, even a firebrand. And, let’s be honest, the lot of you seemed to put a fair amount of ceremony into it. Only an idiot wouldn’t assume it has to do with whatever faith it is you follow. If you don’t want to answer, that’s your business, but it’d be reckless of me to not ask about it. I do like to know at least a little something about who I’m working for.”

  Javyk let out a long breath. “While I’m not very comfortable with it, I suppose I can’t fault you for the question.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “It’s not a simple matter, but yes, that blade was a reward and possibly a means to an end.”

  “Was it more than just a firebrand?” Rellen asked. “Something special?”

  “More than that?” Javyk replied. “I honestly don’t know. I wasn’t told, and I didn’t ask.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “As for being special, only my employer and, I suspect, the one who receives it will know with any certainty.”

  “So, why did you have it?” Rellen asked as casually as he could. To ease Javyk’s suspicious nature, he followed up with, “Let me guess? You borrowed it or something.”

  “No, nothing like that.” Javyk managed a faint smile and seemed to have loosened up a bit. It meant Rellen was beginning to get inside the man’s guard. “It was taken from someone in Sylverwynd a number of years ago. He only recently learned where it was, and I was sent to… fetch it… from Svennival.”

  “Must be valuable then.”

  “It’s been my experience that objects the wealthy and powerful covet can vary quite a bit… and sometimes objects are merely tools meant to influence and manipulate.” Javyk smiled. “A firebrand, for example. They are certainly impressive in battle, but they are not appreciably more dangerous as a weapon than a skilled warrior wielding a lesser blade. Their only real advantage is that they can start fires more easily and cause, perhaps, a bit more injury when slashing someone, although, they cauterize flesh, slowing or even preventing an opponent from bleeding out. I’m no warrior, but even I know that a few bleeding cuts can be the difference between victory and defeat. Considering the amount of energy it takes to create a blade like that, I would think they’re hardly worth the expense and effort.”

  “You have a point there,” Rellen said. Given a choice, he’d much rather have one of his falchions, hardened and sustained as they were, to a firebrand. “I’ve never been one to second-guess the whims of gods, nobles, or women.”

  “You are wise,” Javyk said with a laugh.

  “Can you tell me anything at all about what we might run into between here and Yaylo? If we’re going to protect you, I’d like to know a little bit more about what we might come up against.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t. I will tell you it’s possible we’ll run into more Delvers. If they’re after the artifact, then I don’t see why they’d stop. It could be brigands, mercenaries, or even bounty hunters. I don’t how who is after it, let alone why. There are those who oppose my… employer. It is the nature of his endeavors. I will say this: his designs are far-reaching, and he holds an expanding sphere of influence. Serve him well, and you will be rewarded. I feel I must tell you, betrayal of any kind will be met with a most severe retaliation.”

  “That’s the same all over,” Rellen replied easily. “Every job is like that. As long as I get paid, I don’t really care, and I like the idea of an open-ended association. So long as you have coin, I suspect I’ll be available.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  “I better go check on our prisoners. It’s been a little too quiet back there, and I don’t want any complications while we’re on the road. Besides, the wife would chew me to pieces and spit out the bones if that happened.”

  “You make me glad I’m not married.”

  “There’s good and bad, sir. Good and bad.”

  * * *

  At Rellen’s suggestion, Mr. Bawth parked the carriage in the middle of the caravan once it had pulled over for the night. It was an easy sell to Javyk, the rationale being that in the middle of it, they were less likely to get attacked, especially by Delvers who might appear out of the darkness. Rellen also knew it would keep all conversation to a minimum. He didn’t want anyone getting friendly. Friends got comfortable and comfort allowed people to make mistakes. If his next conversation with Javyk went well, then they’d be able to travel all the way to Yaylo with the man and meet his mysterious employer.

  Xilly had taken up a spot at the edge of the encampment. She had curled up quickly and gone to sleep. Rellen knew she was starting to get fatigued, but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Once the carriage brake had been set, Javyk and Dancer got out. Rellen and the others dismounted and began pulling their gear off the mounts, but Rellen kept his eye on Javyk.

  “Go for a walk, Mr. Bawth,” Javyk called out. “I have matters to discuss with these people, and it doesn’t concern you.”

  “Of course, sir,” the old man replied, nodding his head.

  “Return in an hour so you can set up our camp.”

  Mr. Bawth nodded again and then strolled off. Although his back was turned to Javyk, Rellen caught the driver’s relieved expression. Mr. Bawth apparently didn’t care for Javyk’s company.

  Javyk motioned for Rellen and his companions to join him.

  “I believe introductions are in order,” Javyk said rather pointedly. “This is my… associate… Ulient Sylvemar, although you may call him Dancer.”

  The lad looked weak, and Rellen thought he detected just a hint of a shiver flow across Dancer’s body. He had to admit, the young murderer’s discomfort gave him a certain amount of satisfaction—especially for what he’d done to Jacinda. Rellen had never inflicted a slow death on anyone, and he wasn’t likely to, but he’d shed no tears over Dancer’s continued suffering. It seemed poetic, and deep down, he hoped Javyk would go the same way.