to leave and await a signal to attempt contact again later. And that was precisely what he planned to do.
As Hugh was about to leave, a Collector Monk approached. Something told him to leave anyway, but he didn't. This monk was a brute of a fellow, at least six feet tall and almost as wide. He had an awkward gait and his face was hidden deep in the shadows of his hood, except for his nose. That nose with its flat bulbous shape and flaring nostrils was very common among the Hoth Islanders who hailed from a distant part of the Arnathian Empire. They were devoted worshippers of Zervish, the sea goddess, and about as unpredictable as she. In fact, the Hoth Islanders largely denied the fact that the Arnathians had actually annexed them into the empire. Occasionally an Imperial warship would come to port in Hoth Major and the Hother King would pay his tribute to the Arnathians who would promptly leave.
Arnathia knew it had a source of free flowing money from the Hothers so long as they played their game well with the Imperials. The Hothers were partial to two very lucrative pastimes: silk and spice trading with Far Kharbandom, and pirating. The legitimate Hother traders were militant and armed their trading ships to the teeth with sophisticated weapons and trained mercenaries. The Pirate King of Hoth Minor had an iron grip on the sea-ways to the various Kharbandom regions and his pirate lords were ruthless and effective at raiding foreign lands and plundering foreign merchant ships. It was often alleged that the two Hother kings worked in concert with each other. Truly a bizarre relationship that Hugh had not spent much time studying. He did know that so long as the Hothers provided income to the empire and the empire did not choose to spread across the sea to Far Kharbandom, their odd relationship would likely continue.
Hugh studied the man intently. In all his years he had never seen a Hother who had devoted himself to Qra’z or had chosen to serve the Arnathian Empire in any way. When the man was upon him, Hugh remembered his cardinal rule: never wait for a late appointment. Risking the ire of the guardsmen, Hugh decided to continue on his way and turned to leave when one of the guardsmen stepped in front of him and slammed the butt of his spear loudly on the cobblestones. “Going somewhere Renaul?” asked the man, giving him a dark grin.
“Yes, I am late for my appointment with Lord Cannath!” he said, trying to intimidate the guard.
“Lord, is it? Well, you wouldn’t want to forget your dues to Qra’z would you, Renaul?” he asked, leaning the tip of his spear close to Hugh’s face. Although Hugh was no warrior, he was no coward either, he very casually brushed away the guard’s spear. As he stepped around the guard a large meaty hand grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Cannath’s little birdie!” came the gruff, crass, Hothish voice thick with Hothish surliness. “You wouldn’t want to leave without giving Qra’z your due, would you, Birdie?” The bully’s hood slid back just a little leaving Hugh no doubt in his mind what had happened to his contact. He cursed the man for fool; everyone in this business knew that if you got caught you swallow your own tongue, as the saying went. Every operative and contact had some sort of device that they would use to take their own life should the situation warrant it. Some would, in fact, swallow their own tongues while others carried a concealed razor with which they could slash their throat. While still others would use a poison powder kept hidden in a ring or necklace. Those who were gifted with magical powers had still other ways to escape or end their own life. Hugh was in the latter category and his method required the uttering of a single incantation and rubbing a piece of wormroot wood on his neck to close off his airway. Hugh was a faithful man and had recently begun learning the ways of the new order of warrior monks, the Order of the
As Hugh was about to leave, a Collector Monk approached. Something told him to leave anyway, but he didn't. This monk was a brute of a fellow, at least six feet tall and almost as wide. He had an awkward gait and his face was hidden deep in the shadows of his hood, except for his nose. That nose with its flat bulbous shape and flaring nostrils was very common among the Hoth Islanders who hailed from a distant part of the Arnathian Empire. They were devoted worshippers of Zervish, the sea goddess, and about as unpredictable as she. In fact, the Hoth Islanders largely denied the fact that the Arnathians had actually annexed them into the empire. Occasionally an Imperial warship would come to port in Hoth Major and the Hother King would pay his tribute to the Arnathians who would promptly leave.
Arnathia knew it had a source of free flowing money from the Hothers so long as they played their game well with the Imperials. The Hothers were partial to two very lucrative pastimes: silk and spice trading with Far Kharbandom, and pirating. The legitimate Hother traders were militant and armed their trading ships to the teeth with sophisticated weapons and trained mercenaries. The Pirate King of Hoth Minor had an iron grip on the sea-ways to the various Kharbandom regions and his pirate lords were ruthless and effective at raiding foreign lands and plundering foreign merchant ships. It was often alleged that the two Hother kings worked in concert with each other. Truly a bizarre relationship that Hugh had not spent much time studying. He did know that so long as the Hothers provided income to the empire and the empire did not choose to spread across the sea to Far Kharbandom, their odd relationship would likely continue.
Hugh studied the man intently. In all his years he had never seen a Hother who had devoted himself to Qra’z or had chosen to serve the Arnathian Empire in any way. When the man was upon him, Hugh remembered his cardinal rule: never wait for a late appointment. Risking the ire of the guardsmen, Hugh decided to continue on his way and turned to leave when one of the guardsmen stepped in front of him and slammed the butt of his spear loudly on the cobblestones. “Going somewhere Renaul?” asked the man, giving him a dark grin.
“Yes, I am late for my appointment with Lord Cannath!” he said, trying to intimidate the guard.
“Lord, is it? Well, you wouldn’t want to forget your dues to Qra’z would you, Renaul?” he asked, leaning the tip of his spear close to Hugh’s face. Although Hugh was no warrior, he was no coward either, he very casually brushed away the guard’s spear. As he stepped around the guard a large meaty hand grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Well, well. If it isn’t Cannath’s little birdie!” came the gruff, crass, Hothish voice thick with Hothish surliness. “You wouldn’t want to leave without giving Qra’z your due, would you, Birdie?” The bully’s hood slid back just a little leaving Hugh no doubt in his mind what had happened to his contact. He cursed the man for fool; everyone in this business knew that if you got caught you swallow your own tongue, as the saying went. Every operative and contact had some sort of device that they would use to take their own life should the situation warrant it. Some would, in fact, swallow their own tongues while others carried a concealed razor with which they could slash their throat. While still others would use a poison powder kept hidden in a ring or necklace. Those who were gifted with magical powers had still other ways to escape or end their own life. Hugh was in the latter category and his method required the uttering of a single incantation and rubbing a piece of wormroot wood on his neck to close off his airway. Hugh was a faithful man and had recently begun learning the ways of the new order of warrior monks, the Order of the
Similar Books
