Pantros folded the gem back into its pouch and tucked it into the pocket inside his shirt. “Vehlos is far. Six weeks by boat, longer if we walk.”
“You’re going to want to walk,” James said. “Demons can pop up anywhere and after a couple pop up at sea, the captain will throw whatever is causing them overboard. That would be you.”
“You talk like you’re not coming with me?” Pantros had hoped the Matderi, who seemed too familiar with the gem and its meaning, would accompany him.
“Boy, I’m lame.” James tapped his bad leg with the shaft of his hammer. “I don’t walk anywhere. Maybe Bouncer will accompany you if you think you need muscle.”
Pantros’ sister Tara objected loudly. “No,” she said. “I need Bouncer here. With me and Pantros gone, I’ll need all my loyal help to remain here.”
“Sis,” Pantros said, “It’s better for you to stay too. It’s not going to be safe. Especially if we leave James and Bouncer here.”
Tara put a hand on Pantros shoulder and patted. “If it were going to be safe, I’d not have to go. You’re my ward, my brother. Until you see your twentieth summer, you are still a boy. I saw the hellhound. I know what danger is going to be out there. If we go by foot, we not only have demons to deal with but we have to go through some untamed lands like the Wyldes. There could be giants, trolls, Vulak and maybe even a dragon.”
Pantros let out a derisive snort at his sister’s mention of dragons. Dragons didn’t bother people unless provoked and he hadn’t heard of any in the Wyldes.
Tara poked his arm. “Don’t laugh. Sheillene travels by foot between Fork and here. She tells of her battles on the road.”
Pantros knew the stories. Sheillene travelled across the continent and spent a day or two at the hedgehog twice a year. She told the same stories for as long as Pantros could remember. In more than ten years of travelling through the Wyldes, Sheillene had only four tales of personal experience with Giants or Vulak and none with trolls.
“Isn’t she still here?” Pantros asked.
“She left a short while ago,” Tara said. “We should follow in her footsteps. With any luck, we’ll catch her during her stay at the Backwards Trout in Stonewall. If her tales are true, she’ll be all the escort we need.”
“You think she’ll drop her income as bard to offer us a hand?” Pantros asked.
“You’re going to pay her more than she’d make on the stage for whatever time we need her as a guard.” Tara said.
“Me?” Pantros asked. “What makes you think I have money?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “You really think I can run an Inn and not notice that I have more coin in the till than I could have made by selling every bowl of soup dale cooks and every mug of beer behind the bar? I know where the money comes from. I don’t mind the extra coin, but we’ve never needed it. I do know how to run an Inn. It’s just not good business to let everyone know exactly how well we are doing. I have a little stash of all the extra money you’ve given to the till, but it’s tiny compared to yours. I found two stashes of coins and jewelry so far and I’m sure you have more around here.”
Pantros had four. Other than the one in the basement, there was a sack stowed behind the ovens, the third stair leading up from the taproom was hollowed and filled with silver and gold, and he had several sacks of jewelry under the floorboards of his room. “Which ones did you find?”
“There’s more than one?” Tara asked. “I lied. I only found the one behind the ovens, but I’ve never seen so much wealth. You have more than that? At least two more if you thought I knew of two and weren’t sure which ones I found.”
“Damnit,” Pantros said. “I don’t care about the money. I do have a lot of money. But life in this pirate pit of a town is terribly boring for someone who is not into drinking and fighting as primary forms of entertainment.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you stayed. You could have run off with Bryan last year.”
“And leave you alone here?” Pantros asked. “You’d worry too much. Bryan makes things interesting, but he likes his fun a little more dangerous than I do.”
“You steal from people who would kill you if they found out,” Tara said.
“I’m good and I plan everything carefully. If I can’t figure out a way to take something without significant risk, I don’t take it.”
“Fine, Pan. But we need to go.” She looked over at Bouncer. “I assume you caught all the details of what’s happening?”
Bouncer nodded. “Dale’s in charge while you’re gone. There’s extra money behind the ovens.”
“Good.” Tara said then grabbed Pantros by the shoulders. “Go get whatever money you can carry easily, we’re leaving now.”
Pantros ran upstairs and grabbed a heavy leather satchel and filled it with handfuls of coins and jewelry.
As he came down the stairs to the taproom, James was sitting at a table with a long ornate box sitting on it. Tara sat at his side. “Come here, boy,” James said, gesturing to a seat across the table.
“What’s this?” Pantros asked.
James slid the box closer to Pantros as he sat down. “It’s a sword and it’s yours.” James opened the box to reveal a sheathed rapier with a polished silver bell. “My father was an axesmith and occasionally did trade with the Abvi. This here is Abvi made, not quite as good as Matderi made, but far better than you’ll find in this town or anywhere for a hundred leagues.”
“It’s beautiful,” Pantros said. He reached for the hilt. James hand closed over Pateros’s wrist.
“Hold up there,” James said. “This here is not even a normal Abvi sword. It’s got, um…I’m not sure how to say this…”
“Is it cursed?” Pantros asked, pulling his hand away.
“No, that’s not what I’d call it, but perhaps some would.” James reached into the box and gently lifted the sword by the scabbard. He seemed to carefully avoid touching the hilt or bell. “I don’t know what you know of Abvi, but when they die, they don’t really die. They transcend this world, taking their bodies with them. But that only works for Abvi that live out their full lives. When one dies early, they actually die and their souls wither and fade unless something is done to preserve it. One way to preserve it is to contain the soul in a magnificent work of art. This sword is such a work of art.”
“You’re saying the sword is possessed?” Pantros asked. He was not so eager to take the blade and set his hands on the table.
James nodded. “The sword is alive. It’s not able to fight on its own, but it can offer advice. I’ve never spoken to it, but it’s supposed to be the soul of a veteran warrior killed in battle. It’s dormant right now, asleep. It will wake up when drawn and it will bond to whoever pulls it from the scabbard.
“I don’t think I want to draw it if it’s sentient. I can’t take on another responsibility right now.” Pantros said.
“The thing is that I’ve had this sword for two centuries and my father for a few before that. We’ve never really felt right with the idea of selling it. But it needs to be drawn and have the opportunity to complete its life journey. Ideally, some day the soul will complete and it will transcend as it was meant to in life. If you’re not going to draw it, at least take it with you and give it to a worthy Abvi in Melnith. I will say that it’s one fine weapon and would not have any difficulty penetrating the thick hide of those hellhounds.
Pantros thought about it a moment. “I can take it with me to Melnith. I hope I don’t have to draw it on the way.”
Tara spoke for the first time since Pantros had sat at the table, “I hope so too. I’m sure you think you’re good with weapons, Pan, but the best way to avoid getting hurt in a fight is not to get in one.”
Pantros stood and took the rapier, and emulating James’ care not to touch the hilt or bell, he buckled it onto his belt. “C’mon, sis. We need to get going.”