“I need silver to open this door,” the halfling answered. Because of their size, his kind tended to have voices higher than humans, and old age seemed to have pitched the scratchy one Jhesrhi was hearing higher still. Yet she was reasonably sure the speaker was male.
Gaedynn produced a coin and presented it with a flourish. It disappeared into the crack, and then the door opened. Despite a soldier’s familiarity with wounds and scars, Jhesrhi had to suppress an impulse to stare or wince at what stood revealed on the other side.
The halfling was missing the eye, the ear, and some of the white hair from the right side of his head. In their places were deep, livid, horizontal grooves. His right hand and some of the forearm were gone too, while the right leg, though present, was twisted shorter than the left, hitching his body off center.
He turned and, limping, conducted his visitors into a candlelit, low-ceilinged room. Bearskins, wolf pelts, racks of antlers, and halfling-sized hunting weapons hung on the walls. A scatter of maps lay on a table, along with the hook and leather cuff the halfling presumably wore when he felt the need for a prosthesis.
Jhesrhi was somewhat encouraged. Judging from appearances, their host might truly have known the Sky Riders well, in the days before some beast mauled and crippled him.
He flicked his remaining hand at a bench with chipped and peeling paint that looked like he’d salvaged it from the town dump. “That’s the one thing big enough for humans to sit on.”
“Thank you,” Gaedynn said.
The halfling flopped down in a chair. “What exactly do you want?”
“We’ve heard stories,” Gaedynn said, “about a dragon that roars by night somewhere high in the hills.”
“So?”
Gaedynn smiled. “A dragon’s lair is full of treasure.”
The cripple snorted. “And you think you can carry it off? Just the two of you?”
“The tales suggest this particular wyrm is inconvenienced somehow.”
“It’s still a dragon.”
“We don’t intend to fight it. Just sneak into its lair, pocket a few prize gems, and live like lords for the rest of our days.”
The halfling squirmed in his chair like he couldn’t get comfortable. “It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out already. What do you need me for?”
“The tales are either unclear or contradictory concerning the dragon’s location.”
The maimed hunter grinned, revealing gapped, stained teeth. “Easy to see why, if the creature only appears at night. And seeing as how fools are always getting lost in the Sky Riders. People who saw or heard the wyrm-if anyone truly did-may not have known exactly where they were.”
“Do you think anyone did?” Jhesrhi asked. “See it, I mean.”
“What’s the difference?” The halfling shifted again. “You and your man have decided they did, or else you wouldn’t be here. Nothing I say is likely to change your minds.”
“You’re probably right,” Gaedynn said. “So, can you help us?”
“Maybe,” the halfling said. “I’ve heard all the stories you have and more, and knowing the hill country, I can interpret details that don’t mean anything to you. I can make a good guess where you ought to look. But only if you make it worth my while.”
“I already gave you one piece of silver. How about four more?”
“That’s piddling for information that will make you rich, or so you tell me. How about ten gold?”
“If we had that kind of coin, we wouldn’t need to chase dragons. What about this? We’ll cut you in for a tenth of the profits.”
“Now, that sounds splendid! Because I’m confident you’ll come back loaded down with diamonds and rubies, and just as certain you’ll keep your word.”
“I take your point. We’ll pay you three gold. But I swear by the Merchant’s Friend, we can’t go any higher.”
The halfling grunted. “Hand it over.”
Gaedynn fished a purse out of the jerkin he’d mended with big, clumsy stitches after the kobold’s javelin tore it. “You just need to understand one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Gaedynn shook coins out into his palm. “My companion is a wizard. She’s going to cast a charm that will alert her if you try to cheat us.”
It was a lie. Jhesrhi had mastered dozens of spells, but none that would serve that particular purpose. But other people had no way of knowing that, and she and Gaedynn had used the bluff to extract the truth from the credulous on several previous occasions.
As he took the coins, the halfling made a spitting sound. “As long as she doesn’t turn me into a rat or make my manhood fall off, she can do what she likes.”
Jhesrhi whispered words of power. The room grew colder. For a moment, the candles burned green, and a breeze rustled the parchments on the table. It was likely enough to create the impression that some useful enchantment was in place.
“Now,” said Gaedynn, “go ahead.”
The halfling leaned over the table and riffled through the maps until he found one drawn on vellum. He sketched a circle on it with his fingertip. “Somewhere in this area. And I think that if it’s really there to be found, you’ll find it on the western side of a hill.”
Maintaining the fiction that Jhesrhi could tell if their informant was telling the truth, Gaedynn looked to her. She nodded.
The redheaded archer extended his hand. “Thank you for your help.”
The halfling blinked like he wasn’t used to courtesy or gratitude. “There’s one more thing I can tell you. People only ever glimpse or hear the dragon at the dark of the moon.”
“That complicates matters,” Gaedynn said, “but at least it’s not for a while yet. We have time to get to the right place. Thank you again.”
After the cripple showed them out, Jhesrhi said, “You could have just given the poor fellow ten gold.”
“That would have seemed very strange to him. He expected me to haggle.”
“And, it’s bad luck to swear a false oath by any of the gods.”
“Oh, I imagine Waukeen will forgive me.” He grinned. “As you know better than anyone, I’m well nigh irresistible to blondes with golden eyes.”
She scowled. “Where now? Back to the stable?”
“If you like. We have what we came for.”
They headed in that direction. To her relief, the crowds in the streets had thinned out. In fact, they soon found themselves entirely alone on a block lined with dark, shuttered shops at ground level. In the quiet, even the iron ferrule of her staff bump-bump-bumping against the mud seemed noisy. She picked up the weapon and carried it over her shoulder.
Then the wind whispered to her. She willed the bindings on the staff to loosen, and the cloth fell away. She lifted the rod into a middle guard and roused the power stored inside it. The golden runes glittered.
By that time, Gaedynn had noticed what she was doing and nocked an arrow. “What?” he asked.
“People are stalking us,” she said.
“Where are they?”
“All around us. I think. They’re using magic that hinders even the wind’s ability to perceive them, and-”
“And anyway, the breezes in Mourktar haven’t fallen in love with you yet.” He shifted so they stood back to back. “I’ve heard the song before. If the bastards are just thieves, now that they see that we’re ready for them, maybe they’ll go away.”
“I doubt common thieves would command such potent enchantments.”
“Permit me the comfort of my delusions.”
The breeze moaned, warning her. “Above us!” she said.
They both looked up at the wide, shadowy something plunging down at them. They each leaped forward, separating in the process because otherwise they wouldn’t have had time to scramble out from underneath. The weighted net thudded and rustled down between them.
A figure with a white face and hands jumped off the rooftop after the meshwork like a four-story drop was nothing. And apparently for him it was. He landed like a cat, and Gaedynn drove an arrow into his chest.
That too should have killed or at least incapacitated him. But he simply staggered a step, then charged. As he did, Jhesrhi recognized him as the small man from the tavern. She also noticed his bared fangs.