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Authors: David A McIntee
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Scarra himself, of course, had been the richer of the two, and he could have paid the mercenaries their full fee many times over, but it was much more satisfying to smear Kell for running out on him.
"If Kell has stolen from you, there is little that I can do."
"We could ride after him," Hasso pointed out, "and take it."
"We could," the Captain of the Red Daggers said at last, "but we won't. We'd be fighting our own."
"Since when did that stop us, Sarkos?"
"Cut it out, Hasso," Sarkos snapped. He sighed. "Scarra has a point." Hasso grunted derisively. "And so long as you're in the Red Daggers, you'll show some respect to our employers."
"Respect?" Hasso scoffed. "You're going to swallow his guff and keep working?" He shook his head. "You might be that way inclined, but I can't say I am."
Captain Sarkos nodded slowly. "Like I said, as long as you're in the Red Daggers."
Hasso balled his fists, digging his nails into the palms. This was how he and his fellows were rewarded for their service? Short-changed? His right hand reached for his sword, but he stayed it just before grabbing the hilt.
He didn't want to kill the men he'd been serving with. Sarkos was a good man in a fight, even if he wasn't sensible about money. Most importantly, Sarkos was good enough that Hasso wasn't sure he could take him; not if the rest of the company sided with Sarkos.
There were too many men in the company, and most of them, like Sarkos, were cheap enough to accept the pittance that Scarra offered them. Most of them used to work for cheap protection rackets and were used to being paid a couple of copper pieces; they didn't know what a real professional soldier's wage should be.
Hasso was a real professional soldier, however, and he was used to being paid at least a silver piece per day and that was what Scarra had originally promised. He grimaced, knowing that he should have known better than to trust the word of the fat man. There was little, if any, sincerity visible in Scarra's eyes or audible in his voice when he spoke.
"I didn't sign on for half-pay," Hasso said bluntly. "You're right, Sarkos, I've no place in the Red Daggers." He reined his horse in, and walked it slowly away from the other mercenaries. "I'll take my cut of your half now." He held out a hand.
Scarra hesitated. Perhaps he should order the others to attack Hasso. He was, after all, just one man against several. Then again, he was a good fighter, and Scarra dreaded to think what would happen if he triumphed. He knew that Hasso would kill him, and not swiftly. There would be pain and... And he didn't want to think about that.
He counted out the appropriate number of coins from his purse and slapped them into Hasso' hand.
"I am a fair man," he said primly. "I will always pay you what I owe you."
"You owe me this much again."
"Kell and I as a unit owe you this much again. I've paid my share."
Hasso scowled, and stuffed the coins into a pouch. He wheeled his horse away.
"Where are you going?"
Hasso considered for a moment, then gave a cruel smile. "I'm going to get the other half." He nudged his horse into a gallop, in the direction that Kell had gone. Sarkos and a few others drew swords, clearly intending to pursue him.
"Hold," Scarra said. He was tempted to let them kill Hasso, but after a few seconds' thought realised that Kell would do the job for him. Why risk the safety of the men he had left? It wasn't as if the mercenaries knew the details of his plans. "Kell will pay him off, one way or the other."
Sarkos sheathed his blade. "True enough."
If it was possible for an albino to appear pale Eminence Ludwig Rhodon was getting there. His skin was almost as transparent as melting ice. Rodrigo Kesar stood by the window as he watched the Healers conferring in whispers.
"Well?" Kesar finally asked.
"Eminence," the one closest to him began nervously. "We have been discussing the Eminence's situation, and -"
"I was listening. Will Eminence Rhodon
"If Kell has stolen from you, there is little that I can do."
"We could ride after him," Hasso pointed out, "and take it."
"We could," the Captain of the Red Daggers said at last, "but we won't. We'd be fighting our own."
"Since when did that stop us, Sarkos?"
"Cut it out, Hasso," Sarkos snapped. He sighed. "Scarra has a point." Hasso grunted derisively. "And so long as you're in the Red Daggers, you'll show some respect to our employers."
"Respect?" Hasso scoffed. "You're going to swallow his guff and keep working?" He shook his head. "You might be that way inclined, but I can't say I am."
Captain Sarkos nodded slowly. "Like I said, as long as you're in the Red Daggers."
Hasso balled his fists, digging his nails into the palms. This was how he and his fellows were rewarded for their service? Short-changed? His right hand reached for his sword, but he stayed it just before grabbing the hilt.
He didn't want to kill the men he'd been serving with. Sarkos was a good man in a fight, even if he wasn't sensible about money. Most importantly, Sarkos was good enough that Hasso wasn't sure he could take him; not if the rest of the company sided with Sarkos.
There were too many men in the company, and most of them, like Sarkos, were cheap enough to accept the pittance that Scarra offered them. Most of them used to work for cheap protection rackets and were used to being paid a couple of copper pieces; they didn't know what a real professional soldier's wage should be.
Hasso was a real professional soldier, however, and he was used to being paid at least a silver piece per day and that was what Scarra had originally promised. He grimaced, knowing that he should have known better than to trust the word of the fat man. There was little, if any, sincerity visible in Scarra's eyes or audible in his voice when he spoke.
"I didn't sign on for half-pay," Hasso said bluntly. "You're right, Sarkos, I've no place in the Red Daggers." He reined his horse in, and walked it slowly away from the other mercenaries. "I'll take my cut of your half now." He held out a hand.
Scarra hesitated. Perhaps he should order the others to attack Hasso. He was, after all, just one man against several. Then again, he was a good fighter, and Scarra dreaded to think what would happen if he triumphed. He knew that Hasso would kill him, and not swiftly. There would be pain and... And he didn't want to think about that.
He counted out the appropriate number of coins from his purse and slapped them into Hasso' hand.
"I am a fair man," he said primly. "I will always pay you what I owe you."
"You owe me this much again."
"Kell and I as a unit owe you this much again. I've paid my share."
Hasso scowled, and stuffed the coins into a pouch. He wheeled his horse away.
"Where are you going?"
Hasso considered for a moment, then gave a cruel smile. "I'm going to get the other half." He nudged his horse into a gallop, in the direction that Kell had gone. Sarkos and a few others drew swords, clearly intending to pursue him.
"Hold," Scarra said. He was tempted to let them kill Hasso, but after a few seconds' thought realised that Kell would do the job for him. Why risk the safety of the men he had left? It wasn't as if the mercenaries knew the details of his plans. "Kell will pay him off, one way or the other."
Sarkos sheathed his blade. "True enough."
If it was possible for an albino to appear pale Eminence Ludwig Rhodon was getting there. His skin was almost as transparent as melting ice. Rodrigo Kesar stood by the window as he watched the Healers conferring in whispers.
"Well?" Kesar finally asked.
"Eminence," the one closest to him began nervously. "We have been discussing the Eminence's situation, and -"
"I was listening. Will Eminence Rhodon
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