“I think we’re done playing at mule drivers.”
“I thought I’d never hear you say that. Well, good. What do you propose next? Lie in wait for this fellow Urdinger and ambush him? Trail the Veruna blades and see where they go when they leave the camps?”
“Some of them are likely patrolling the wildlands near the camps, watching for monsters or marauders,” Geran answered. He clicked his tongue at the mules and lightly flicked the reins to urge them onto the Lower Bridge. “There’s little point in following them. And even if we were confident that we were following the right group of armsmen at the right time to catch them in some mischief, well, it’s damned difficult to trail mounted men out on the Highfells without being spotted yourself. No, I think we’re going to have to lay a trap for them.”
“We could start a rumor that someone else opened a barrow and found something,” Hamil said, thinking aloud. “With sufficient riches in the tale, they’d have to investigate. We could set watch over the barrow in our story and wait for them.”
“Not a bad idea, but half of Hulburg might show up on our doorstep.” Geran smiled grimly at the notion. Few native Hulburgans would open a tomb in defiance of the harmach’s law, but the town was full of poor and desperate outlanders these days. And no laws pertained to looting burial mounds that were already standing open. “We might waylay dozens of men before the ones we’re looking for show up. We’d have to stack them up like cordwood behind the mound so that we didn’t scare away the rest.”
Hamil laughed and shook his head. “I see your point. Never mind.”
“We’ll talk with my uncle tomorrow,” Geran decided. “He’ll know which barrows have been broken into. Maybe we can discern some pattern to it all if we see more of the burial mounds the Veruna men have visited.”
To finish out their ruse, Geran and Hamil picked up a few barrels of salted meat and sacks of flour and drove back to the castle. Drivers delivered provisions to the garrison often enough that one more wagon wouldn’t seem unusual. No one seemed to pay any special attention to them, so they left the the wagon with the Shieldsworn stables and returned to their rooms for much-needed baths, changes of clothing, and a good night’s sleep in warm beds.
In the morning, Geran rose, exercised, and dressed, then met Hamil in the great room. After breakfast, they made their way across the small court in front of Harmach’s Tower to the library. A steady, cold drizzle was falling, a mix of rain and sleet. As before, they found a pair of Shieldsworn standing watch by the harmach’s door. A small handful of clerks and chamberlains hurried in and out, carrying out the business of the castle. Geran and Hamil waited only a moment before they were shown in to see his uncle.
Grigor Hulmaster sat at his writing desk, studying a stack of parchment as they entered. “Ah, Geran! Master Hamil!” the old lord said warmly. “You have certainly made yourselves scarce lately. I understand that you had quite an adventure with Kara a few days ago, and I’ve been waiting for a chance to ask you about it.”
“I doubt I can add much to what Kara must have told you already,” Geran observed. He took the seat his uncle indicated. “I wanted to see for myself the place where Jarad was killed, so we rode up to the Highfells to have a look.”
He went on to describe their exploration of the barrow to the best of his ability, including the discovery of the two bodies and the encounter with the strange sorcerer. Grigor listened attentively without interrupting; the harmach might not have been a young man, but he had a keen memory and never forgot the details of a story. Geran knew that his uncle would get around to his own questions eventually, after he’d had ample time to weigh all the accounts.
When Geran finished, Grigor leaned back in his leather chair. “Weren’t you worried about breaking into the barrow? You know that’s dangerous.”
Geran met his uncle’s gaze evenly. “Someone had moved those stones recently, and I wanted to know why. Kara didn’t want to disturb the burial mound, but I thought there wasn’t much risk.”
“As it turned out, you were right. It’s not in Kara’s nature to trust her intuition, but I’m glad that you trusted yours.” Grigor sighed heavily. “I knew that Darsi Veruna and the rest of the Merchant Council had reasons to want Jarad Erstenwold out of the way, but I had no reason to think that Veruna mercenaries might be involved with the tomb-plundering that Jarad was investigating.”
“Speaking of which, I’d like to know exactly which barrows have been broken into, and when,” Geran said. “Jarad must have discerned some pattern to it. He had a reason for choosing that barrow to keep watch over.”
“You believe the Verunas aren’t finished plundering the barrows?” the harmach asked.
“We’ve spent the last few days watching the Veruna sellswords,” Hamil said. “Small bands of Darsi Veruna’s armsmen are constantly coming and going from the camps and yards. By our rough count, we’d guess that as many as a third of the Veruna men-thirty to forty mercenaries, all told, mostly in bands of five or six at a time-are engaged in some activity that takes them away from Veruna mines, sawmills, and wagon trains.” The halfling glanced at Geran and back to the harmach. “We doubt they’re all out patrolling the wilds at the same time.”
The harmach sat in silence for a long moment, gazing out the leaded glass windows of the library. Finally he said, “Assuming your suspicions are well founded, Master Hamil, what business is it of yours? You are not sworn to my service-nor is Geran. There is no reason to make Hulburg’s troubles your troubles too.”
“As I told you before, my lord Harmach, I’m here to look after my partner.” Hamil nodded at Geran. “A few years back, when Geran and I were both members of the Company of the Dragon Shield, Geran saved my life at terrible risk to his own. I’m obligated to him for that, if nothing else. But beyond that, Geran is my friend, and his fights are my fights too.” The halfling paused. “Besides, it seems that many of the foreigners in this town know your men all too well. We might be able to get answers your Shieldsworn couldn’t.”
“In that, you may be correct, Master Hamil.” Grigor shifted his watery gaze to Geran. “But, Geran, it doesn’t explain why you’ve chosen to make this your fight. I’ve never blamed you for your decision to seek your fortune elsewhere. You have no debt to repay me or Hulburg.”
“I’ve nothing in Tantras that I need to hurry back to, and I think I’ll be staying a little while.” Geran kept his eyes locked on the harmach’s. “I find that I’m not satisfied with the questions that are left unanswered, Uncle. And I don’t like what I’ve seen so far of this Mulman merchant coaster that Sergen has apparently sold Hulburg to. This whole business doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Nor with me,” the harmach answered, with surprising firmness in his voice. “Very well, then-I have the reports of tomb-breaking close at hand.” He pulled open a drawer in the desk, then checked another. “Ah, here they are.”
The old lord glanced through the papers and handed them to Geran. Most were in Jarad’s handwriting, simple and terse summaries of each break-in he’d discovered.
“There were five instances that we know about before Jarad’s encounter,” Grigor said. “Of course, there may be more we haven’t discovered yet. There are literally hundreds of barrows scattered from Thentia to the ruins of Sulasspryn, and most are so far from traveled paths and grazing land that no one would ever know if they’d been broken into.”
Geran looked at them quickly and handed them to Hamil. He’d read them more thoroughly later. But first, he wanted to see where the robbery attempts had taken place. He glanced at the crowded bookshelves in the harmach’s study. “Do you still have Wolther’s map, Uncle?”
“Of course,” Grigor answered. He pushed himself to his feet with a slight wheeze and shuffled over to a rack where dozens of large leather cases lay gathering dust. He ran his frail fingers over each, muttering quietly to himself, then he settled on one case and tapped it once before removing it and bringing it back to the desk. “This is the one.”