‘Well, get to the point,’ said Durmast. ‘Who are you hunting?’
‘No one.’
‘Then who is hunting you?’
‘Just about everyone. But mainly the Brotherhood.’
‘You pick your enemies well, my friend. Here, read this.’ Durmast delved into an untidy mass of parchment scrolls and came up with a tightly rolled package, sealed with a black circle of wax. The seal was broken. Waylander took the scroll and read it swiftly.
‘Five thousand gold pieces? It makes me valuable.’
‘Only dead,’ said Durmast.
‘Hence the crossbow greeting.’
‘Professional pride. If times get tough I can always rely on you – and the price on your wolfs head.’
‘I need your help,’ said Waylander, pulling up a seat opposite the giant.
‘Helping you will prove costly.’
‘You know I can pay. You already owe me six thousand in silver.’
‘Then that is the price.’
‘You don’t know yet what aid I need.’
‘True – but that is the price anyway.’
‘And if I refuse?’
The smile faded from the giant’s face. ‘Then I will collect the Brotherhood’s bounty on you.’
‘You drive a hard bargain.’
‘No harder than the one you forced me to on that Ventrian mountainside when my leg was broken. Six thousand for a splint and a horse?’
‘There were enemies close by,’ said Waylander. ‘Was your life worth so little?’
‘Another man would have rescued me out of friendship.’
‘But then men like us have no friends, Durmast.’
‘So do you agree the price?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine. What do you need?’
‘I need someone to guide me to Raboas, the Sacred Giant.’
‘Why? You know where it is.’
‘I want to get back alive – and I shall be bringing something with me.’
‘You intend to steal Nadir treasure from their holiest place? You don’t need a guide, you need an army! Ask the Vagrians – they just might be strong enough. But I doubt it.’
‘I need someone who knows the Nadir and is welcome in their camps. What I am seeking is not a Nadir treasure; it belongs to the Drenai. But I will not lie to you, Durmast, there is great danger. The Brotherhood will be on my train and they seek the same goal.’
‘Valuable, is it?’
‘It is worth more than a king’s ransom.’
‘And what percentage do you offer me?’
‘Half of what I am receiving.’
‘That’s fair. What are you getting?’
‘Nothing at all.’
‘Are you telling me that this is something you promised to do for your sick mother on her deathbed?’
‘No. I promised an old blind man on his.’
‘I don’t believe a word of this. You never did anything for nothing in your life. Gods, man, I saved you twice at cost to myself, yet when I was in trouble you charged me silver. Now you tell me you have become an altruist? Do not make me angry, Waylander. You would not like me angry.’
Waylander shrugged. ‘I am surprising myself. There is little more I can tell you.’
‘But there is. Tell me about the old man.’
Waylander leaned back. What could he tell him? In what way could he lay out the story so that Durmast would understand what had happened to him? No way at all. The giant was a killer, merciless and amoral – even as Waylander had been but a few short days before. How could he understand the shame the old man had inspired in Waylander? He took a deep breath and launched into the tale, allowing no embellishments. Durmast listened in silence, no flicker of expression on his wide features, no glint of emotion in his green eyes. At the conclusion Waylander spread his arms and lapsed into silence.
‘The Drenai would pay all that they have to get the Armour?’ asked Durmast.
‘Yes.’
‘And the Vagrians would pay more?’
‘Indeed they would.’
‘And you are going to do it for nothing?’
‘With your help.’
‘When do you plan to leave?’
Tomorrow.’
‘You know the grove of oaks to the north?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll meet you there and we’ll go out over the Delnoch Pass.’
‘What about the money?’ asked Waylander softly.
‘Six thousand, you said. It wipes the slate clean.’
Waylander nodded thoughtfully. ‘I had expected you to ask for more, considering the size of the task.’