Soulbinder (Book 3) (3 page)

Kendril’s face turned serious. “The furs?”

The woman shook her head. “Not much. There’s hardly any game in the foothills around here. We got a few squirrels, some rabbits, and a fox or two.”

“That’s not good,” said Kendril dully.

“No,” said a new voice from behind them. “It’s not.”

They turned to see Joseph walking up, leading two horses behind him. Flecks of snow stood out in his beard and on the red handkerchief tied around his neck. His brown greatcoat was covered with the stains of many long years of travel through the wilderness. At his side hung his simple rapier. A brimmed hat covered his head.

“How much did you get?” asked Kendril.

Joseph stopped, patting one of the horses on the forehead. “Fifteen coins. And that was after some hard bargaining.”

Maklavir pulled back his feathered cap. “Fifteen coins? That’s hardly enough for supper and rooms tonight.”

A shadow fell over Joseph’s face. “I know. I tried my best.”

“Not your fault, Joseph.” Kendril turned, clapping the snow and ice off his gloves. “Let’s get you two something to eat.”

The four weary companions sat together in the inn while Kara and Joseph ate their meals. A despondent silence hung over the group, and even the usually jovial Maklavir said nothing, dismally watching the fire with his arms crossed.

As he finished his last bite, Joseph sat back with a sigh. “I suppose we should talk.”

Kendril nodded grimly. “I suppose so.”

Maklavir stretched out one hand towards the nearby warmth of the fireplace. “Give me another chance at the card table. I really think I can—”

“The card angle didn’t work too well the last time,” broke in Kendril. “I think it’s time to face facts. We’re broke, and short of a miracle I don’t see how we’re going to get any fast coinage.”

 Kara pushed back from the table. “There were some pretty nice manor houses on the road coming in here.”

Joseph looked over her. “Absolutely not, Kara. I told you, no thievery.”

The redhead threw up her hands in exasperation. “For Eru’s sake, Joseph. You think those people got their titles and mansions by honest hard work? Most of them are just as much of a thief as a common highway bandit.”

“And that,” said Maklavir with a smile, “coming from an
ex
-highway bandit.”

Kara threw him a nasty look.

Kendril folded his hands in front of him and settled back into his chair. “Anyone got any bright ideas?”

There was silence as the other three avoided his glance.

“Well then,” said Kendril, “I suppose this is where we part ways.”

Maklavir looked up with a startled expression. “You’re leaving?”

“He means all of us,” said Joseph glumly as he traced one of the cracks in the table. “The whole group.”

“I don’t really see any other choice. No sense in us all hanging out and starving together.” Kendril caught the expression on Maklavir’s face. “Don’t look too stunned,” he said irritably. “We all knew this wouldn’t last.”

“Still,” said the diplomat as he tapped the side of his water mug, “it makes for a rather inglorious end, don’t you think?”

“You used to live in Valmingaard, didn’t you Maklavir?” Kara put her elbows on the table and leaned into her hands. “Surely you have some friends close by?”

“Fewer now than one might think,” Maklavir returned with a sad smile. “I didn’t exactly leave the kingdom on the best of terms.”

“I think we should stay together,” said Joseph quietly.

All heads turned towards him.

He leaned back in his chair, tugging at the red handkerchief tied around his neck. “I think we have a better chance together than if we split up.”

Kendril gave his friend a probing glance. “Do you have any particular ideas in mind, Joseph?”

The scout looked down at the table again and scratched his beard in contemplative silence. “Not exactly.”

The Ghostwalker crossed his arms. He looked back at the tavern door. “Then I don’t think we have a whole lot of options. The money the furs brought us should give us rooms for the night, but in the morning—”

The scout shrugged. “We’ve made it this far together. Surely we can find some way past this.”

“Like I said before,” Kendril replied venomously, “I would be more than happy to hear any ideas anyone has. So far no one has come up with anything.”

“There was Kara’s burglary bit,” said Maklavir. “I for one thought it sounded capital.”

Kara beamed. “Thank you, Maklavir.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kendril clasped his hands together. “This is ridiculous. I hope everyone’s this happy when we’re sleeping out in the snow.”

Joseph scratched the side of his beard. “We’ve slept out in the wild before, Kendril.”

“With
supplies
,” the Ghostwalker added. “Supplies that require money for us to buy. Or had you forgotten?”

“We could shoot game. We’ve had to make do before.”

“Game?” Kendril nodded his head in the direction of the frost-covered windows. “It’s the middle of winter. You were out there for three whole days and could barely trap enough to get fifteen coins worth of fur. There’s no way we could feed all four of us in the wild.”

“Look, Kendril—”

“No,” said the Ghostwalker heatedly, “
you
look. It’s over, Joseph. Fun while it lasted, but over just the same. So why don’t—”

“Excuse me,” came a quiet voice from behind them, “am I interrupting something?”

The four of them turned their heads.

A man stood behind Kendril’s chair, smiling broadly. He was short and rather rotund, wearing a heavy fur-lined robe. His boots were velvet, and a silken handkerchief protruded from a breast pocket. Covering his fingers were an overwhelming number of thick silver and gold rings, some sporting massive jewels that sparkled even in the dim light of the common room. His face was covered with a scratchy beard, while his thinning hair had been combed back and greased. The man pressed his hands together as he watched the group sitting before him.

Kendril looked the newcomer up and down. “What do you want?”

The man smiled again, the firelight shining in his hair. “To join you, if I may.”

Before Kendril could manage a discouraging reply the small man had pulled up a chair. He settled down with a sigh. “That’s better.”

“We were in the middle of a conversation here,” said Kendril.

The man waved a hand and sent a sleeve of his robe flying. “Yes, yes, I know. You are short on money, no?”

“You were eavesdropping?” asked Maklavir.

Kendril continued to glare at the man, but said nothing.

“No, no, not eavesdropping. I simply overheard your conversation.” He pressed his fingertips together. “Do not be alarmed. I believe I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

Kendril remained rigid in his chair. “Whatever it is, we’re not interested.”

The man glanced over at the Ghostwalker and grinned. “At least have the decency to hear me out before you make up your mind.”

Kara inclined her head suspiciously. “We don’t even know who you are.”

He laughed. “Nor I you, but that can be quickly remedied. I am Galla, from Badera.”

“You’re a long way from home,” Kendril said.

“So, I garner, are all of you.” He flicked his eyes from face to face around the table. His gaze finally rested on Joseph. “You are a pathfinder, are you not? A man of the outdoors?”

Joseph nodded carefully. “Yes.”

Galla chuckled. He pulled up the fur collar on his robe. “Excellent, excellent. Exactly what I was hoping for.”

Kendril continued to stare at the man. “And what
exactly
was that?”

The Baderan rested his elbows on the armrests of the chair. He glanced behind him quickly, then over towards the tavern door. Satisfied, he lowered his voice a notch. “I have some…business…to attend to in the area. I am in need of a knowledgeable guide, and bodyguards.” He smiled. “The journey, you see, is a dangerous one for a lone traveler such as myself.”

“There are dozens of men in town who could guide you to where you want to go,” said Joseph. “Why us?”

Galla shook his head emphatically and leaned forward. “I cannot afford to hire a local man. My journey is of a…sensitive nature, and I cannot risk gossip spreading through the town.” He tugged at his robe nervously. “Besides, the people here are not too, well, accommodating to Baderans.”

Maklavir shrugged. “Your countrymen have invaded this area many times before in the past. You can hardly blame the locals for being a mite bitter.”

“Just what exactly is the
nature
of your business, Mr. Galla?” asked Kendril coldly.

The Baderan looked over at the Ghostwalker. He flexed his fingers nervously. “I am a priest,” he said slowly. “From the Haldithan Monastery. One of our brothers is currently ministering to a group of new converts to the west of here. He requested some simple supplies be sent to him, along with some copies of the Blessed Scriptures.”

Joseph raised his eyebrows. “Converts?”

Galla nodded quickly. “A tribe of barbarians who have renounced their pagan ways.” He touched his hand to his forehead. “The Oganti, I believe they’re called.”

Maklavir took a deep breath. “The Oganti are a bloodthirsty lot,” he said in a quiet voice. He glanced over at Kendril. “They were constantly raiding outlying farms and villages back when I was in Valmingaard.” He shuddered, and pulled his cape around his shoulders. “They would kidnap children and young men and women wherever they could, carting them off to Eru knows where.”

Joseph cupped his hands around the mug of water in front of him. “Why?”

Maklavir sighed and looked down at the table. “Slaves. Some they sold, some they would sacrifice to their gods. Occasionally we would find the remains.” He looked back at Galla. “Most of those who were taken were never heard from again.”

Galla bowed his head sadly. “The Oganti have been in bondage to the darker powers, ever since the times of Despair. We have tried to reach them with the message of hope, but they have long resisted the efforts of our brothers.”

“But you said they had converted?” said Joseph.

“Not all. But some.” Galla looked around the table. “One of the smaller tribes, only a couple hundred people, but it is a start. They are trying their best to learn to farm instead of raiding. The last we had heard from our brother they were even building a small church, though the progress is slow. That is why it is imperative that I get through to them. They have great need of the supplies that I am bringing, but the route is a perilous one.” He straightened, and glanced sadly back at the tavern windows. “But there is much hatred and fear here, especially of a Baderan such as myself. That is why I turn to you for assistance.”

Joseph glanced over at Kendril.

The Ghostwalker remained silent, watching the Baderan with glowering eyes.

Joseph cleared his throat. “We would like to help, Mr. Galla, but—”

“You would all be compensated, of course,” Galla broke in quickly. “The journey would take about two or three days. I will purchase all necessary food and supplies. As for money--” He cleared his throat and clasped both his hands together tightly. “I regret to say that I do not have much. Would, say, five hundred coins be sufficient?”

Joseph’s jaw dropped.

Maklavir stopped stroking his goatee and stared at the Baderan as if he were crazy.

“
Five hundred coins
?” Joseph stammered. “That seems…” he exchanged a look with Maklavir, “…reasonable.”

“We’re not mercenaries,” came the abrupt sound of Kendril’s voice. He hadn’t moved, his arms still crossed.

Galla looked over at the Ghostwalker and smiled weakly. “I understand. It is my wish that no bloodshed occur on my journey. But—” he looked back at Joseph, “I require a guide, and a larger group will make travel safer, especially against highway bandits and raiders.”

Joseph opened his mouth to reply, but Kendril cut in first.

“Sorry. Not interested.”

Galla’s face faltered. “Please, I know that I do not have much to offer, but--?”

Kendril sneered. “How about we cut to the chase? What’s your real game here, Galla?”

Joseph put a hand on the table. “Kendril—”

The priest shook his head. “I’m not--”

“Smuggling?” the Ghostwalker continued. “Or maybe you’ve got some friends of yours waiting for us in the woods just outside of town?”

“
Kendril
!” Joseph stood from his chair. “A word?”

Kendril glared up at his friend for a moment, then pushed back his chair.

Joseph walked over to the bar, and waited until the Ghostwalker came up beside him. “What in Zanthora do you think you’re doing?” he hissed.

“Oh, come on.” Kendril looked back over his shoulder at the table behind them. “Don’t tell me you’re actually buying this guy’s story?”

Joseph clenched his fist. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Kendril looked back at his companion. “Five hundred coins? To nursemaid some priest in the wilderness? He can’t be legitimate.”

Joseph inhaled, controlling his rising temper. “And what if he is, Kendril? You want to throw away an opportunity like this? Five minutes ago you were saying that we had no other choice but to split up. Well, now we
have
another choice, and you’re determined to reject it.”

Kendril glanced back at the Baderan sitting across the room. “I don’t trust him, Joseph. He’s hiding something.”

Joseph looked away in disgust. “It’s always the same with you, Kendril. You never trust
anybody
. Everyone always has to have some ulterior motive.” He looked back at his friend. “Is it so hard to believe that someone could be telling the truth for once?”

The Ghostwalker nodded. “Yes. It is. He doesn’t even look like a priest.”

Joseph turned from the bar. “He’s a
Baderan
, Kendril. The clergy there own more land than the rest of the country combined. Chances are he’s an aristocrat himself. That doesn’t make him a liar.”

Kendril scowled and looked back in Galla’s direction again. “It just doesn’t add up, Joseph.”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “You know what, Kendril? It doesn’t matter anyway, because you don’t speak for all of us. You want to stay here, fine. I for one am going. Even if this is some nefarious trap it’s better than rotting away in this backwoods town.” He turned to go.