better disposed to them, all things considered, and expected them to feel something similar.
“We must consult with our party leader about a job,” said Orgos.
“I thought Mithos was party leader,” I said.
“No,” said Mithos. “And keep your voice down. The party leader went ahead to Stavis to learn the details of the mission. Our leader’s identity is a closely guarded secret.”
“I need another drink,” I decided.
Garnet tutted as I motioned to the barman, pointing at a bottle on the back shelf. He stared, first at me and then at the bottles, and chose the wrong one. I nodded enthusiastically.
“And this job,” I continued, since they were being helpful. “What is it? Assassinating an Empire officer, poisoning a garrison? What?”
“It’s nothing like that,” said Mithos firmly. The others seemed to be letting him do all the talking, as if to make sure they gave nothing away that he thought wasn’t my business.
“It does not involve the Empire at all and will take us far out of Empire territory to the east of Stavis. More than that I cannot say.”
East of Stavis? What was east of Stavis? I sipped my beer and then tried one more question. “This party leader of yours—”
“Forget it,” said Garnet with a malevolent scowl. I looked to Mithos but he merely smiled softly, so I shrugged it off and finished my drink.
“Can you ride?” asked Orgos.
“Ride? Ride what?” I said.
“A horse?” suggested Garnet with lazy condescension.
“No,” I replied.
“Great,” he breathed heavily. “Mithos, Hawthorne can’t ride.”
“Then he can ride on the wagon with me,” said Orgos with a smile at me and a fixed look at Garnet. We all rose to leave.
“Good,” said Mithos. “Be careful how you swing that crossbow about, Will. We restrung it with gut last week. It’s more powerful than you might think.”
“Really?” I said, cocking it and studying the thing with apparent carelessness, allowing it to point squarely at Garnet’s chest.
I didn’t hear Mithos draw but I felt the edge of his broadsword against my throat.
“Humor has its place, Master Hawthorne,” he whispered into my ear, “but I think you should tread a little lighter until you know the ground is firm.”
I got the message and lowered the bow. Mithos sheathed his sword in a single deft motion and stood silently. I smiled as if nothing had happened, which, I suppose, it hadn’t. But if I thought I would get out of it with what little dignity I had still intact, I was wrong. I didn’t know how to uncock the bloody thing and as I wrestled with it I must have caught the trigger. . . .
The bolt slammed into the wall above the bar. The barman dropped a glass as he jumped back, ducked under the counter, and leapt up again, a crossbow of his own raised and aimed at my head.
“Sorry!” I called cheerfully as sweat broke out all over my body. “I’m really sorry about that. It just sort of . . . went off . I’m not very good with things like this and it just seemed to, well . . . you know, go off. And, er . . . sorry.”
There was a moment of stillness; then Mithos, hands above his head, approached the bar as the innkeeper stared murderously. I apologized again and made soothing noises as Mithos wrenched the bolt from the wall and the rattled barman slowly lowered his weapon, looking at each of us in turn. Mithos drew some coins from his purse and put them on the bar with some quiet, friendly words. When he rejoined us he presented me with the bolt and hissed, “Learn how to use that thing before you cock it again. Orgos!” he said with a hard look at the black man. “Teach him. And, Master Hawthorne: One step out of line, just one, and you fend for yourself or worse. We are making a long and difficult trip in which we cannot afford to carry imbeciles with more pride than common sense. Not one step, Master Hawthorne. Remember.”
As the boy showed us to our wagon and horses, Garnet pushed past me,
“We must consult with our party leader about a job,” said Orgos.
“I thought Mithos was party leader,” I said.
“No,” said Mithos. “And keep your voice down. The party leader went ahead to Stavis to learn the details of the mission. Our leader’s identity is a closely guarded secret.”
“I need another drink,” I decided.
Garnet tutted as I motioned to the barman, pointing at a bottle on the back shelf. He stared, first at me and then at the bottles, and chose the wrong one. I nodded enthusiastically.
“And this job,” I continued, since they were being helpful. “What is it? Assassinating an Empire officer, poisoning a garrison? What?”
“It’s nothing like that,” said Mithos firmly. The others seemed to be letting him do all the talking, as if to make sure they gave nothing away that he thought wasn’t my business.
“It does not involve the Empire at all and will take us far out of Empire territory to the east of Stavis. More than that I cannot say.”
East of Stavis? What was east of Stavis? I sipped my beer and then tried one more question. “This party leader of yours—”
“Forget it,” said Garnet with a malevolent scowl. I looked to Mithos but he merely smiled softly, so I shrugged it off and finished my drink.
“Can you ride?” asked Orgos.
“Ride? Ride what?” I said.
“A horse?” suggested Garnet with lazy condescension.
“No,” I replied.
“Great,” he breathed heavily. “Mithos, Hawthorne can’t ride.”
“Then he can ride on the wagon with me,” said Orgos with a smile at me and a fixed look at Garnet. We all rose to leave.
“Good,” said Mithos. “Be careful how you swing that crossbow about, Will. We restrung it with gut last week. It’s more powerful than you might think.”
“Really?” I said, cocking it and studying the thing with apparent carelessness, allowing it to point squarely at Garnet’s chest.
I didn’t hear Mithos draw but I felt the edge of his broadsword against my throat.
“Humor has its place, Master Hawthorne,” he whispered into my ear, “but I think you should tread a little lighter until you know the ground is firm.”
I got the message and lowered the bow. Mithos sheathed his sword in a single deft motion and stood silently. I smiled as if nothing had happened, which, I suppose, it hadn’t. But if I thought I would get out of it with what little dignity I had still intact, I was wrong. I didn’t know how to uncock the bloody thing and as I wrestled with it I must have caught the trigger. . . .
The bolt slammed into the wall above the bar. The barman dropped a glass as he jumped back, ducked under the counter, and leapt up again, a crossbow of his own raised and aimed at my head.
“Sorry!” I called cheerfully as sweat broke out all over my body. “I’m really sorry about that. It just sort of . . . went off . I’m not very good with things like this and it just seemed to, well . . . you know, go off. And, er . . . sorry.”
There was a moment of stillness; then Mithos, hands above his head, approached the bar as the innkeeper stared murderously. I apologized again and made soothing noises as Mithos wrenched the bolt from the wall and the rattled barman slowly lowered his weapon, looking at each of us in turn. Mithos drew some coins from his purse and put them on the bar with some quiet, friendly words. When he rejoined us he presented me with the bolt and hissed, “Learn how to use that thing before you cock it again. Orgos!” he said with a hard look at the black man. “Teach him. And, Master Hawthorne: One step out of line, just one, and you fend for yourself or worse. We are making a long and difficult trip in which we cannot afford to carry imbeciles with more pride than common sense. Not one step, Master Hawthorne. Remember.”
As the boy showed us to our wagon and horses, Garnet pushed past me,
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