the last hill before Krinneor. Darll was trying to learn the
second verse of “The Bald Maid and the Barber.”
Fenris, beside Graym, said, “I hate to turn him in.”
Graym nodded. “He’s not a bad lot. Wanted to kill us or
jail us, but face it. Who wouldn’t?”
Fanris, on his other side, said, “Can’t we just let him
go?”
Graym stared at the road. “He’s expected. We were paid
half in advance. We can’t just two-step into Krinneor – ”
“Do we need to go there so bad?” Fenris asked softly.
Graym looked back at the cart, bouncing easily with
one barrel of ale and no supplies. “It’s all we’ve got left.”
They walked in silence, watching Darll try to teach
Jarek to juggle. The mercenary, even while mocking Jarek’s
efforts, had a hand affectionately on the man’s shoulder.
The road cut through a pass and angled to the left.
Jarek sniffed the air. “I smell something funny.”
“That’s the sea, boy,” said Graym.
But Darll looked troubled. “I didn’t know there was an
arm of the sea here.”
“A port city,” Graym explained. “Not just rich, but a
trade center. We’re nearly here. Beyond this curve, we’ll see
the road on the shore, probably a lovely seaside view, all
the way to Krinneor – ”
They rounded the comer.
The hill plunged down to a sandy beach strewn with
rocks. The road ended, half-covered with sand, sloping
down into the water and disappearing. Ahead was water, all
the way to the horizon,.a new sea, still gray with the silt
and mud of the land collapsing and the waters rushing in.
A half mile out from shore, a group of battered golden
spires stuck upright, barely a man’s height above the waves.
Gulls were nesting on them.
The men rolled the cart to the beach and stood.
“The golden towers,” Fenris said.
“The marble doors,” Fanris said.
“And excellent drains,” said Darll.
Graym, staring at the spires in shock, murmured, “I
hear that’s very important for a city.”
The others laughed for quite a while. Graym sat on a
rock by the shore, staring.
Jarek moved down the beach, picking up stones to skip.
The Wolf brothers, once they were over their fear of gulls,
took off their boots and went wading. Darll walked up to
Graym. “Where to from here?”
“Nowhere.” Graym stared, unseeing, over the open
water. “No horses, no food, no money. No Krinneor.” He
blinked his eyes rapidly. “All gone.”
Darll was shocked. “There’s a world out there. You can
start over.”
Behind them, a voice said, “You can stay here.”
Rhael came forward, holding some sort of medallion
and twisting it in her fingers. Her determination was gone;
she looked unsure of herself.
Graym stared at her a moment. “You knew the truth
about Krinneor, didn’t you?”
“We all knew. No one wanted to tell you before you
helped us.”
“I don’t suppose you did, Miss,” Graym said heavily.
“And after?”
“Afterward, Elder Werlow was afraid of you. You’re
fierce warriors.”
Darll had the grace not to laugh.
“So you let us go. Good joke.” Graym sighed.
She twisted the medallion chain almost into a knot. “I
argued with them and said I’d follow you and apologize,
and – and give you this.”
She held up the medallion, realized how twisted it was.
“Sorry.” She untwisted the chain nimbly, then dropped it
over Graym’s neck. “There.”
The medallion was a small shield with a single piece of
black opal in the shape of an axe. Graym looked down at it.
“It was brave, your coming here when you were
embarrassed. Thank you, Miss. I’ll keep this.”
“Until he gets hungry,” Darll said bluntly, “then he’ll sell
it. He’ll have to.”
Rhael ignored the mercenary. “Why not stay in
Graveside?” she asked. She touched the medallion. “To fill
the office that goes with this.”
“Office?” Graym said blankly, opening his eyes.
“Of Protector,” Rhael said. On impulse, she kissed his
cheek. “Please take it. Your men, too. You’ll have food and
lodging, and we know we can trust you.”
Graym stared bemusedly at her. “Me, a law officer?”
He turned to Darll. “Would I be any good, sir?”