The blond forester settled down by the fire. ‘Kasyra is not a small place, but I found the whore Kreeg was living with. She told him about a man called Dakeyras who lives near here. I’ve got directions.’
‘Wrong man,’ said Morak. ‘Wardal and Tharic already met him. What else did you find?’
‘Little of interest,’ answered Baris, pulling the remains of a loaf of bread from the pouch at his side. ‘By the way, how long has Angel been a member of the Guild?’
‘Angel? I’ve not heard that he is,’ said Morak. ‘Why?’
‘He was in Kasyra a week or so back. Tavern-keeper recognised him. Senta is there, too. He said to tell you that when he finds your body he’ll be sure to give it a fine burial.’
But Morak wasn’t listening. He laughed and shook his head. ‘Wardal, have you ever been to the arena?’
‘Aye. Saw Senta fight there. Beat a Vagrian called … called …’
‘Never mind! Did you ever see Angel fight?’
‘Oh yes. Tough. Won some money on him once.’
‘Would you remember his face at all?’
‘Red hair, wasn’t it?’ answered Wardal.
‘Correct, numbskull. Red hair. And a face his mother would disown. I wonder if the tiniest thought is trying to make its way through that mass of bone that houses your brain? If it is, do share it with us.’
Wardal sniffed loudly. ‘The man at the cabin!’
‘The man who said he was Dakeyras, yes,’ said Morak. ‘It was the right cabin, just the wrong man. Tomorrow you can return there. Take Bans and Tharic. No, that might not be enough. Jonas and Seeris as well. Kill Angel and bring the girl here.’
‘He’s a gladiator,’ objected Jonas, a stout balding warrior with a forked beard.
‘I didn’t say fight him,’ whispered Morak. ‘I said kill him.’
‘Wasn’t nothing about no gladiators,’ persisted Jonas. Tracking, you said. Find this Dakeyras. I’ve seen Angel fight as well. Don’t stop, does he? Stick him, cut him, hit him … still keeps going.’
‘Yes, yes, yes! I am sure he would be delighted to know you are among his greatest admirers. But he’s older now. He retired. Just walk in, engage him in conversation, then kill him. If that sounds a little too difficult for you, then head for Kasyra – and kiss goodbye to any thought of a share in ten thousand gold pieces.’
‘Why don’t you kill him?’ asked Jonas. ‘You’re the swordsman here.’
‘Are you suggesting that I am frightened of him?’ countered Morak, his voice ominously low.
‘No, not at all,’ answered Jonas, reddening. ‘We all know how … skilled you are. I just wondered, that’s all.’
‘Have you ever seen the nobles hunt, Jonas?’
‘Of course.’
‘Have you noticed how, when chasing boar, they take hounds with them?’
The man nodded glumly. ‘Good,’ said Morak. ‘Then take this thought into that pebble-sized brain: I am a hunting noble and you are my dogs. Is that clear? I am not being paid to kill Angel. I am paying you.’
‘We could always shoot him from a distance, I suppose,’ said Jonas. ‘Wardal’s very good with that bow.’
‘Fine,’ muttered Morak. ‘Just so long as it is done. But bring the girl to me, safe and hearty. You understand? She is the key to Waylander.’
‘That is against Guild rules,’ said Belash. ‘No innocents may be used …’
‘I know the Guild rules!’ snapped Morak. ‘And when I want lessons in proper conduct I shall be sure to call on you. After all, the Nadir are well known for their rigid observance of civilised behaviour.’
‘I know what you want from the girl,’ said Belash. ‘And it is not this key to her father.’
‘A man is entitled to certain pleasures, Belash. They are what make living worthwhile.’
The Nadir nodded. ‘I have known some men who share the same … pleasures … as you. When we catch them among the Nadir we cut off their hands and feet and stake them out over anthills. But then, as you say, we do not understand you civilised people.’
*
The face was huge and white as a fish belly, the eye sockets empty, the lids shaped like fangs, clacking as they closed. The mouth was lipless, the tongue enormous and cratered with tiny mouths.