Jonmarc asked, watching as the men tied up the wounded animal, which still had enough fight to snap at them until one of them looped a muzzle over its nose and chin.
“ Stawar . You don’t usually see one in these parts, but they’re native to Eastmark,” Linton replied. “They’re the symbol of the Eastmark royal family, so it’s highly illegal to remove one from the kingdom. I paid a pretty coin to smuggle that one out, and I’ll not lose my investment! Thank you,” Linton said, meeting Jonmarc’s gaze. “That took balls—more than any of my whore-spawned performers had, that’s for certain.”
Jonmarc shrugged. “I’d hate to lose my best customer.”
Linton guffawed. “Customer, indeed! You ever decide to see the world, I’ll have a place for you, and that’s a promise.”
J ONMARC DROVE THE empty wagon back to Ebbetshire alert for highwaymen. The trip had taken longer than he expected, and it was growing dark. Shanna would be worried about him. Shadows were already falling on the mountains just beyond town, and Jonmarc spared a glance for the high cliffs. In bright sunlight, you could just make out the dark places that marked the largest of the cave openings. But Jonmarc knew there were hundreds of others, many of them hidden or barely large enough for a man to enter. Places where long ago, the first people to settle this land had buried their dead.
It was their long-forgotten graves Jonmarc looted.
He hadn’t set out to be a grave robber. It began with an off-handed remark from Linton about how much money one of his merchants had gotten for an old bit of jewelry. Intrigued, Jonmarc had stopped by the merchant’s stall and recognized his wares were like the forgotten bits that littered the caves where he had gone exploring as a boy. Ever since then, Jonmarc had brought what he could find along with him when he traded iron and herbs, and Linton was happy to pay him for the odd pieces. The dead don’t care, and the living need to eat , Jonmarc thought.
His horse whinnied and stopped abruptly. Ahead on the road, Jonmarc saw a dark form in the shadows. He drew his knife. “Get out of my way, or I’ll ride you down.”
The figure took a few steps closer, moving out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Now, Jonmarc could see it was a man in a dark cloak with a hood that hid his face. “Who are you?” Jonmarc demanded.
“My name is Foor Arontala. I have a business offer for you, Jonmarc Vahanian.”
Jonmarc’s grip tightened on his knife. “How do you know my name?”
The figure chuckled. “You’re the one who sells trinkets to the caravan. There’s an item I’d like you to retrieve from the caves for me. I’ll pay you well for it.” The man lowered his hood. He had long, dark hair and a pale face with fine, aristocratic features.
“How well?”
“Three gold pieces. That should make it worth the effort.”
Three gold pieces were more than most village men would see for years of work. Jonmarc nodded, but did not lower his knife. “Say on.”
“I’m looking for a talisman,” the man said. “Nothing most people would value, but it’s of interest to me. It’s very old. If you’ll accept the job, I can tell you where to find it.”
“If you know where it is, why don’t you get it yourself?”
The man chuckled, and as his lips parted, Jonmarc could see the points of his long eye teeth. V ayash moru , Jonmarc thought, and a chill ran through him. “The lowest, oldest areas of the caves are spelled against my kind. But mortals may pass without harm.”
“That’s it? I go into the caves and bring back the talisman? Then what?” Common sense told Jonmarc he should snap the reins and ride on. Practicality made him stay. The last harvest had been poor, and the villagers had little coin to spend. Money had been too scarce over the last few years to turn down such a good prospect, and with a baby due any day and Shanna’s mother also depending on their earnings, Jonmarc
“ Stawar . You don’t usually see one in these parts, but they’re native to Eastmark,” Linton replied. “They’re the symbol of the Eastmark royal family, so it’s highly illegal to remove one from the kingdom. I paid a pretty coin to smuggle that one out, and I’ll not lose my investment! Thank you,” Linton said, meeting Jonmarc’s gaze. “That took balls—more than any of my whore-spawned performers had, that’s for certain.”
Jonmarc shrugged. “I’d hate to lose my best customer.”
Linton guffawed. “Customer, indeed! You ever decide to see the world, I’ll have a place for you, and that’s a promise.”
J ONMARC DROVE THE empty wagon back to Ebbetshire alert for highwaymen. The trip had taken longer than he expected, and it was growing dark. Shanna would be worried about him. Shadows were already falling on the mountains just beyond town, and Jonmarc spared a glance for the high cliffs. In bright sunlight, you could just make out the dark places that marked the largest of the cave openings. But Jonmarc knew there were hundreds of others, many of them hidden or barely large enough for a man to enter. Places where long ago, the first people to settle this land had buried their dead.
It was their long-forgotten graves Jonmarc looted.
He hadn’t set out to be a grave robber. It began with an off-handed remark from Linton about how much money one of his merchants had gotten for an old bit of jewelry. Intrigued, Jonmarc had stopped by the merchant’s stall and recognized his wares were like the forgotten bits that littered the caves where he had gone exploring as a boy. Ever since then, Jonmarc had brought what he could find along with him when he traded iron and herbs, and Linton was happy to pay him for the odd pieces. The dead don’t care, and the living need to eat , Jonmarc thought.
His horse whinnied and stopped abruptly. Ahead on the road, Jonmarc saw a dark form in the shadows. He drew his knife. “Get out of my way, or I’ll ride you down.”
The figure took a few steps closer, moving out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Now, Jonmarc could see it was a man in a dark cloak with a hood that hid his face. “Who are you?” Jonmarc demanded.
“My name is Foor Arontala. I have a business offer for you, Jonmarc Vahanian.”
Jonmarc’s grip tightened on his knife. “How do you know my name?”
The figure chuckled. “You’re the one who sells trinkets to the caravan. There’s an item I’d like you to retrieve from the caves for me. I’ll pay you well for it.” The man lowered his hood. He had long, dark hair and a pale face with fine, aristocratic features.
“How well?”
“Three gold pieces. That should make it worth the effort.”
Three gold pieces were more than most village men would see for years of work. Jonmarc nodded, but did not lower his knife. “Say on.”
“I’m looking for a talisman,” the man said. “Nothing most people would value, but it’s of interest to me. It’s very old. If you’ll accept the job, I can tell you where to find it.”
“If you know where it is, why don’t you get it yourself?”
The man chuckled, and as his lips parted, Jonmarc could see the points of his long eye teeth. V ayash moru , Jonmarc thought, and a chill ran through him. “The lowest, oldest areas of the caves are spelled against my kind. But mortals may pass without harm.”
“That’s it? I go into the caves and bring back the talisman? Then what?” Common sense told Jonmarc he should snap the reins and ride on. Practicality made him stay. The last harvest had been poor, and the villagers had little coin to spend. Money had been too scarce over the last few years to turn down such a good prospect, and with a baby due any day and Shanna’s mother also depending on their earnings, Jonmarc
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