Waylander poured himself some wine and sipped it, holding it on his tongue and enjoying the sharp, almost bitter flavour.
The door slid open and Cudin entered; he was short and fat, sweat shining on his face. Waylander nodded a greeting. The merchant was followed by a young girl carrying clothing. She laid it on a gilded chair and left the room with eyes downcast, which Cudin hovered, rubbing his hands nervously.
‘Everything as you requested, my dear fellow?’
‘I will also need a thousand in silver.’
‘Of course.’
‘Have my investments gone well?’
‘Well, these are hard times, But I think you will find the interest has been substantial. I have lodged the greater part of the eight thousand in Ventria, for the spice trade, so the war should not affect it. You may collect it at Isbas, at the bank of Tyra.’
‘Why so nervous, Cudin?’
‘Nervous? Not I – it is the heat.’ The fat man licked his lips and tried to smile, but he was not successful.
‘Someone has been looking for me, yes?’
‘No … yes. But I told them nothing.’
‘Of course not; you know nothing of my movements. But I shall tell you what you promised them – you said that you would let them know if ever I called on you. And you told them about the bank at Tyra.’
‘No,’ whispered Cudin.
‘Do not be afraid, merchant, I do not blame you. You are not a friend and there is no reason to risk yourself for me; I would not expect it. Indeed, I would think you a fool if you did. Have you informed them yet of my arrival?’
The merchant sat down beside the pile of clothing. His flesh seemed to sag as if the muscles of his face had suddenly ceased to function.
‘Yes, I sent a messenger into Skultik. What can I say?’
‘Who came to you?’
‘Cadoras the Stalker. Gods, Waylander, he has the eyes of Hell. I was terrified.’
‘How many men did he have with him?’
‘I do not knoow. I remember he said “they” would be camped at the Opal Creek.’
‘How long ago was this?’
‘Five days. He knew you were coming.’
‘Have you seen him since?’
‘Yes. He was in a tavern, drinking with the giant outlaw – the one who looks like a bear. You know him?’
‘I know him. Thank you, Cudin.’
‘You will not kill me?’
‘No. But had you not admitted it to me …’
‘I understand. Thank you.’
‘There is nothing to thank me for … Now on another matter – there are two children recently brought to Skarta, now lodged with the Source priests. Their names are Krylla and Miriel. You will see they are looked after? There is also a woman, Danyal; she too will have need of money. For this service you will keep the interest from my investments. You understand?’
‘Yes. Krylla, Miriel, Danyal. I understand.’
‘I came to you, Cudin, because of your reputation for honest dealings. Do not fail me.’
The merchant backed from the room and Waylander moved to the clothing. A fresh linen shirt lay at the top of the pile and he lifted it to his face; it smelled of roses. Slipping it on, he tied the cuffs. Next was a pair of black troos in thick cotton, and then a woollen-backed leather jerkin and a pair of thigh-length black riding boots. Moving to the window, he hefted his mailshirt and placed it over his shoulders. The rings were freshly greased, the metal cold to his body. He dressed swiftly, buckling on his knife-belt and sword. His crossbow lay on the broad bed with a fresh quiver of fifty bolts; he clipped both to his belt and left the room.
Outside in the hall the girl waited and Waylander gave her four silver pieces. She smiled and moved away, but he called her back when he saw the bruise on her upper arm.
‘I am sorry for being rough on you,’ he said.
‘Some men are worse,’ she replied. ‘You didn’t know you were doing it.’
‘No. I did not.’ He gave her another silver piece.
‘You cried in your sleep,’ she said softly.