Chapter 9 - Part 6

“Here we go,” Lyle said with an irritated tone in his voice. The village square was before them, with its central pool in between two tall maples. “The inn is that big building over there.”

Delegado grinned as he rode on his horse. A large number of people had stopped working and come out of houses and farms to gawk at the tall half-orc with the longbow on one shoulder and the hawk on the other. Lyle had made the mistake of telling someone who the half-orc was as they came into the village. Normally Delegado would have ignored it all, but he kept waving and smiling because he knew it irritated the lad. “Such a friendly village!” the half-orc said loudly. “Balinor’s blessing on all of you!”

“We’re a town,” someone protested. But his voice was lost in the general roar of approval.

“I can give you break on a better horse!” came a friendly taunt from a man leading a group of steeds. The hair on the back and sides of his head were shaved to show off the Vadalis dragonmark spreading out from his neck.

“Bah, I can find my own, Vuchen!” the half-orc responded. The crowd thought that was funny.

“You know the Vadalis people here?” Lyle asked.

“I keep in touch with the major players in all the Houses,” Delegado said simply. “Professional courtesy.”

A group of older women came by and presented Delegado with a bouquet of flowers. They blessed him by the Sovereign Host, and he smiled graciously.

“They’re just competing with the druids,” Lyle told him sourly.

“Gotta love it,” Delegado sighed. “Just gotta love it.” He looked at Lyle with a mischievous glint in his eye that the young man was already so sickening familiar with. “Is that jealousy, young fella?”

“To the right,” Lyle snapped, walking ahead. Delegado laughed.

They were now coming to the inn. “Is this the place?” the half-orc inquired. He was serious now, for the contract’s end was approaching.

“Yeah, Meryl’s Rest,” Lyle said. He whistled for a stableboy, and the young shifter lad came out with wide eyes. “Pienna is on the second floor, in the suite.”

“Of course she is,” Delegado snorted. “For a druid she likes the comfortable life. Must be that Cannith upbringing.” He jumped down, and worked at the one heavily laden saddlebag.

“Pienna is of House Cannith?” Lyle asked, surprised.

“Born and raised in comfortable manors surrounded by servants and machines,” Delegado said, working the heavy saddlebag free. He clicked his tongue, and the hawk jumped to his other shoulder so that the half-orc could rest his heavy burden where the hawk had been. He gave quick, rude instructions to the shifter stableboy to rub the horse down, water it and feed it, and not steal anything unless he wanted his arms cut off. The stableboy nodded seriously, not even asking for a tip from the muscular bounty hunter.

Delegado balanced the key carefully on his shoulder. The Keeper-loving thing was heavy, so that even he had to be careful. How in the Fury the dolgrims he had slain to get it had ever moved it around was lost on him.

The front door of the inn was wide open, and Delegado walked in without comment. The common room was empty at this hour, with the lunch crowd not even in yet. A young woman mopping the floor gaped at him.

“Stairs,” he demanded. She pointed wordlessly. “Thanks,” he said, turning so that he was facing toward them. Lyle ducked as one end of the bag nearly hit him. “You still following me?” Delegado laughed.

“I have a duty,” the young human snarled.

Delegado gave a brief frown at the man’s attitude. Hero worship gone sour was always ugly. “You have a beef with me?” Lyle glared but didn’t answer. Delegado let the bag down on the floor and stepped forward, jabbing a finger at the kid’s chest. “I asked you a question. Do you have a beef with me?”

Lyle stepped back. “Yes I do!” he yelled. “You’re an arrogant piece of f’test who worships his own galig and you think you can use me as your chamber pot!” Lyle blinked a bit, but stood his ground.

“I don’t think I can use you as my chamber pot,” Delegado said. He made a thoughtful face. “The rest might be true.” Lyle looked confused, and the half-orc laughed. “Get over it, kid. It’s been a long time since I was given credit for saying ‘pretty please.’”

“It’s been a while since you got your arse kicked, is what you mean,” came a deep voice at the top of the stairs.

Delegado fumed, angry that the Khyber-bound dwarf had snuck up on him via his magical armor again. “I smell some truly rancid meat,” Delegado said loudly. He turned around to face the dwarf. “Oh it’s you, Chubat. I should have realized that rancid meat smells better than you!”

Chubat grinned from a face full of broken teeth and scars. “So it was you that found the key, eh?” the dwarf asked, walking down the stairs. His footsteps made nary a sound, and his breastplate armor made no sound at all, the silencing enchantment built into it still as powerful as it had been when Chubat’s grandfather had crafted it centuries ago. “And I thought Tharashk forwarded the job to someone competent.” The dwarf caressed the waraxe that he held in his belt. A heavy shield of mithril lay across his back, and a light crossbow was in a holster on one leg. Chubat was one of the most deadly warriors that Delegado had ever met, and he was never far from Pienna’s side. “Well, I suppose they wanted to get you out of their way. And you did find it.” Delegado had once seen the ugly little humanoid split an ogre into two pieces with one swing of that axe. “Who would have thought an orc could be useful for anything?” Chubat hated orcs, half-blooded or otherwise, almost as much as he hated the unnatural things that the Gatekeepers fought.

“How’s everybody’s favorite reject from the Holds?” Delegado taunted, gripping the handle of his sword. One of his happiest days had been when he found out Chubat’s father had been shamed and rejected from the Mror Holds, leading him to wander west with his family. Delegado never let pass by an opportunity to rub Chubat’s nose in it. “Oh wait, you weren’t born there, you wouldn’t know, your family holdings are all gone, too!” Delegado smiled and looked down at the dwarf who was approaching him slowly and carefully. It was a deceptive approach. Chubat was capable of moving very quickly without warning. “Yeah, Tharashk was going to take a contract to find all of those ancestral rock carvings that got thrown Mirror Lake, but no one was willing to pay anything for them because they were done so poorly.”

Chubat laughed evilly. “How’s your poor tummy, Delegado? Able to eat all of your yum-yums without help?” Delegado’s stomach clenched involuntarily, remembering the time that Chubat had let his entrails loose. The half-orc had been holding his guts in his body with one hand, and weakly fending off the enraged dwarf with the other, when Pienna had broken them up. It was her magic that had kept Delegado from bleeding out, and it was her magic that tucked all of his intestines back where they belonged as well. Still, the half-orc hadn’t been able to eat right for a week.

“How’s your face?” Delegado asked. It was a poor response. Chubat had dozens of scars, and the one arrow of Delegado’s that had bounced off of his helmet had barely broken the skin.

“Lovely as your mother,” Chubat said. “Now are you done picking on a little kid and losing a battle of wits to a half-drunken dwarf? Because she’s waiting to see the key.”

Delegado snarled, and stepped back to grab the saddlebag. His mood wasn’t improved by the sly grin on Lyle’s face. Rather than lift it, he opened it, and spilled the heavy key out onto the floor.

The key was shaped like any common key would be, with a turner, a shaft, and several teeth. Of course it was four feet long, making it big for even ogre hands, and made out of solid byeshk. It was covered in ancient runes, and held more than a few blood stains, some of which were a few days old while the rest went back uncounted decades. Its massive weight settled onto the floorboards, making them creak. “Whoopsy,” he said. “Want to help me carry it up, dwarf?”

“No,” the dwarf said. “You’re getting paid, you heft it.” His glittering eyes suggested that he well knew Delegado was hoping to punch the dwarf in the mouth when Chubat’s hands were full.

“Fine then,” Delegado said, straining to heft the thing. He finally got it up, and he clicked his teeth as he did so. Feather, who had been silently up to that point, flew off of his shoulder and deposited thick, white droppings in Chubat’s beard.
“Cute trick,” Chubat said, his eyes promising death should Pienna ever let him fight the half-orc again.

“Yeah’s he’s very bright,” Delegado grunted from under the key. “Even smarter than a dwarf. Although that doesn’t say much. You gonna take me to Pienna or what?”

Chubat snarled, and gestured Delegado to follow him. Feather settled back on Delegado’s shoulder as the half-orc began to ascend the stairs, and Lyle followed, picking up the bag that the key had been in because he figured that someone ought to.