Page 58 of Eldritch
The barmaid slammed two tankards down in front of Kazhimyr and Ravezio, and offered a wink to the man across from them, before sauntering off. Gaze trailing after her, Kazhimyr noticed that what few women were present had their attention turned toward the stranger.
“What are your dealings in Susurria?” Ravezio asked.
“Just passing through. Never actually been this far north before.”
“We’re not looking for a traveling companion.” Kazhimyr lifted the tankard, rearing back some at the stench of sour ale, and set it back down on the table.
“You won’t find a mage in all of Nyxteros who can produce a counterfeit as believable as Maelrik. He was sought after by the king for a reason.”
Kazhimyr narrowed his eyes on the stranger. “Well, that’s quite an opinion for someone who isn’t from around here.”
“Been here three nights. Storms in the south kept me holed up here. Small village, you hear things—particularly news of an arrest.” The stranger tugged at one of his pierced, pointed ears, the gesture not escaping Kazhimyr.
He instinctively glanced around, noticing a man staggering out of the tavern.
“And how would you imagine getting us passage?” Ravezio sniffed the drink, crinkled his nose, and shrugged, before tipping back a swallow. He quickly shot forward and spat it back into the tankard—a reaction that Kazhimyr would’ve found amusing, had he not been preoccupied with that tug of the ear.
“It’s an acquired taste,” the stranger said, raising his own tankard for a sip. “In answer to your question, I’m allowed to register three subordinates.”
“Subordinates,” Kazhimyr said, tonelessly. “You’re highblood?”
The stranger leaned in and lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t offer the very risky proposition of smuggling you into Calyxar, if I possessed that kind of coin.”
“How much?” Kazhimyr asked.
“A thousand liro.”
“That’s a lot of coin for little guarantee that you’ll successfully get us into Calyxar.”
The stranger raised a brow. “Paid on successful entry.”
Ravezio sat back, crossing his arms. “How can we be certain you’re telling the truth? That you have residency there?”
His lips pulled into a smile, and he tugged out a scroll bearing a red wax seal. “Because, unlike you two, I have a bloodmark to prove it. If anyone is taking a risk, it’s me. How do I know you’ll pay once you’re there?”
Kazhimyr couldn’t deny that, under the circumstances, with the kings men certain to hunt them down, it seemed there was much less risk on their part. Unless the ship and crew happened to be slavers. “How do you propose transportation?”
“I know a merchant in Wyntertide. My papers say I’m second mate. You would be my subordinates.”
Ravezio sneered at that. “I scrub no decks.”
“It’s not the decks you’d be scrubbing, friend.” The stranger grinned. “All on paper, of course.”
“Let’s see your papers.”
He stared at the two Letalisz for a moment before handing over the bloodmark, and Kazhimyr opened it up, confirming what the man had told them. “Dravien Nokvayne. Elvyniran from Monteszel Province. Your nexumis includes a keen sense of hearing, navigational skills, and the ability to read storms.”
He gave a bow of his head. “You now know more about me than I know about you.”
Kazhimyr handed it back to him. “What if we say no? I suspect you could turn us over for quite a bit of coin.”
The stranger shrugged. “I do not mingle with watchmen. I’ve my own reasons to avoid the law. Should you decide to walk away? Nothing gained, nothing lost.” He lifted his tankard, kicking back a long swill. “I bid you good evening, and as far as I’m concerned, I spoke to no one.”
Kazhimyr chewed on the possibility for a moment. Instincts told him to walk away, but that’d leave them with even fewer choices. “We’re weary from travel. This is not a decision we want to make tonight. We’ll seek you out in the morning.” He didn’t give the stranger a chance to argue, as on those parting words, Kazhimyr and Ravezio stood up from the booth.
“A word of caution, my friend,” the stranger said. “Some seem to think you’re affiliated with King Sagaerin. Overheard them talking about it.” He nodded toward a group of villagers in the corner, who sat glaring back at the two assassins.
“Why ever would they think that?”
