“Very well,” Sergen said. “Wait for me here. I don’t intend to remain inside for long.” He smiled to himself as he stepped down to the cobblestones in front of the fine stone stairs leading up to the hall’s doors. He did every time he caught sight of the grand edifice, since it was really his building, a symbol of his personal power and importance in Hulburg. Oh, the Merchant Council was ostensibly an association of equals, with each merchant of consequence in the city commanding one seat on the council, and he merely presided over it without a vote in its deliberations. But Sergen was Keeper of Duties, which gave him all the power he needed to buy or sell votes as he liked, while the support of House Veruna-and its immense wealth-made him master of the council in fact as well as name. For years now he had dictated to lesser members the positions they should adopt and the measures they should support or ruined them by giving Veruna opportunities to plunder their interests. It hadn’t taken the smaller companies long to learn the cost of not doing what he wanted.
Sergen climbed up the steps and strode into the building, paying the guards posted by the door no mind as they grounded the butts of their halberds for him. The council chamber itself was to his right, but he walked past it and up a grand wooden staircase in the foyer. His chambers were on the second floor, a large suite that included working rooms for his staff, a library, a sitting room, servant’s spaces, and even a modest bedchamber if he decided that he didn’t care to return to his grand house in the hills after an evening in Hulburg. Few of the council clerks or attendants were in the building since the working day had ended an hour ago, but those who crossed his path were careful to stop and bow with murmured greetings of “Good evening, Lord Hulmaster,” or “By your leave, Lord Keeper.”
Sergen’s guards preceded him into the Keeper’s chambers. He swept in on their heels, doffed his expensive fur mantle, and handed it to his valet. “Is Ironthane here?” he asked.
“Aye, Lord Hulmaster,” one of the guards answered. “He waits in the captain’s room.”
“Show him upstairs immediately, then,” Sergen answered. “I am attending the theater tonight, and I don’t want to be late.” The guard withdrew and hurried off. Sergen sat behind his desk and quickly studied the documents and orders his minions had left for him to review before signing. He found nothing of any real importance at a quick glance, but before he could begin a more serious examination, he heard footsteps in the hall, followed by a knock at the door. “Enter,” he replied.
“Captain Kendurkkel Ironthane, my lord,” the guard said. He moved aside to make room for a wide-shouldered, black-bearded dwarf in heavy mail-and-plate, who wore a vast bearskin mantle over his armored shoulders and a wide gold chain to secure the fur. The dwarf had a long-stemmed clay pipe cupped in one hand and rested his other hand on the handle of a vicious-looking throwing axe that hung at his left hip. He was tall for his kind, just an inch or two under five feet, and was extraordinarily burly with shoulders that seemed a yard wide. He looked Sergen up and down and puffed once on his pipe.
“Welcome, Captain,” Sergen said. He looked at the other guards and attendants in the room and dismissed them with a gesture. Then he stood up and bowed slightly. “I am Sergen Hulmaster, Keeper of Duties in Hulburg.”
“I’ve no’ been long in Hulburg, but I’ve been here long enough t’ learn who you be,” the dwarf said. “You’re master o’ the town, as near’s I can tell. So what d’you want with me Icehammers?”
“Have a seat, Captain.” Sergen waited for the dwarf to make himself comfortable then went on. “I believe I have need of your mercenaries. I wish to engage your company as a special auxiliary to the Council Watch. You’ll report to me, and me alone. Are you interested?”
The dwarf shrugged. “It depends where you mean t’ send me lads, an’ who you expect us t’ fight, Laird Hulmaster.”
“You’d remain in or near Hulmaster for now-within an hour’s march, I would imagine. As for fighting, well, I doubt you’ll see any pitched battles. The Bloody Skull orcs are demanding tribute from the harmach, but I intend for that to be little concern of yours. I want to use your company to help establish and keep order in town and perhaps assist me in suppressing enemies of the Merchant Council.”
“An’ who be those enemies?”
“Whomever I tell you to consider an enemy, Captain.” Sergen leaned forward on his desk and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Lawless gangs in the Tailings. Outlaw bands on the Highfells. Merchant companies that refuse to abide by the fair rules this council enacts. Perhaps… others.”
Ironthane smoked for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. “How long will you be wanting the Icehammers at your beck and call, Laird Hulmaster?”
“Until I feel that good order has been established in Hulburg, Captain.”
“So y’want me to take an open-ended contract with no specific enemy in mind, other’n whatever poor bastards y’tell me to handle for you?” The dwarf tapped his pipe against the arm of his chair to settle the embers to his satisfaction. “In that case, I expect t’be retained month-t’month. Meet our price, an’ I’ll keep me lads ready for you as long as you’re to keep payin’ me.”
Sergen leaned back and frowned. He sensed that it might be better to be direct with Ironthane. Dwarves had a reputation for bluntness, after all. “I was hoping you would find something like that a reasonable arrangement. I foresee trouble in the next few months. Abrupt and decisive action may be called for. My Council Watch is a constabulary, not an army, but that’s exactly what I may need soon.”
“You want your own army, then.” Ironthane smiled humorlessly. “Well, Laird Hulmaster, it will no’ be cheap. Me Icehammers’ll cost you two thousan’ gold crowns up front and another thousan’ crowns per month, plus decent quartering and provisions. If you can’t provide quarters or rations, it’ll be another six hundred per month. I expect t’be paid the first o’ the month each month. If you pay me no', you’re in breach of our contract, and we’ll walk out on you. That coin buys you our services as guards, roustabouts, an’ a standing force in case y’need two hundred well-armed veterans at short notice. If you want us t’ undertake a major action-say, anything where me lads face more’n twenty enemies under arms at the same time-well, we’ll have t’negotiate a special bonus.” Kendurkkel Ironthane grinned to himself. “We’re no’ patriots, we’re no’ fanatics, and we won’t give you a moment’s loyalty that you don’t pay for, Laird Hulmaster. But we observe our contracts an’ fight damned hard when we’ve struck terms. You won’t find a tougher company than the Icehammers anywhere north o’ the Moonsea, and no’ all that many south o’ it neither.”
Sergen winced at the cost. “You’ll be looking after your own accommodations and provisions. I’m willing to go as high as twelve hundred per month. And we’ll need to come to a better understanding of what you mean by a special bonus and just what triggers it.”
“I’m willing t’ split the difference,” the dwarf said. “Fourteen hundred per month?”
Sergen considered for a moment, then nodded. “Done.” He stood up and offered his hand; Ironthane took it, and they clasped palms. “Pick out a good site for a barracks within half a mile of town, and tell your men to keep this quiet until I tell you otherwise.”
“Two hundred men, close t’ hand, no particular duties yet, an’ keep it quiet,” the dwarf repeated. He puffed on his pipe, eyeing the human lord with interest. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you intended a coup, m’laird.”