15. Fenric #2
“I am aware they are vicious, dangerous creatures with the strength and speed of sharks while in the water. However, I am not aware of whether they go on land or if they possess any fighting skills while on land. I also believe they possess some magic skills, but I would need to conduct further research for more accurate details.”
Vicious, fast as sharks, and they had magic. Lord Mire’s posting didn’t sound the slightest bit appealing.
“Seems like a lot of work. Wonder if that was the job the heroes were supposed to be handling.”
“Quite possibly. Judging by where Lord Mire’s village of Dunley is located, Bjornkill would be the largest nearby town. Posting here would be the only way of catching the attention of heroes looking to ascend the list. That is also assuming any pleas he sent to the royal capital went unheard.”
“Not sure I want to take it if we’re going to be tripping over heroes.” Fenric huffed and started looking at some of the other postings. “Plus, we’re villains. Not exactly a people-saving line of work.”
“True. This job will not aid the rise of our villain reputation. However, Lord Mire is offering a reward of one hundred gold pieces, and that—”
“How the fuck much?” Fenric zoomed back over to the job posting.
He grabbed the curled paper and ripped it off the wall.
A hundred gold pieces. Even if he dragged along the entire gang, the reward split among them still left Fenric with more than enough to operate for a while.
“We should go see this Lord Mire and check out his problem.” He folded the paper and stuffed it into his back pocket to keep other job hunters from sniping this delicious payday.
“You keep looking at the jobs. I’m going to chat up the barkeep. ”
“Would you order me an ale and two lunches?” Belstrom requested.
Fenric stopped and peered over his shoulder. “You got money for two lunches?”
Bel sighed long and weary, as if he were the man who suffered most in all the world. “Why did I have to be blessed with such an endless appetite and dominating physique but not the purse to meet such demands? One lunch will have to suffice.”
“Yeah, we all got it rough,” Fenric muttered and resumed his walk to the bar.
More customers were pouring into the place the closer it drew to midday—port workers and people fresh from their boats looking for a hot meal and a good amount of ale to wash away the aches and pains.
Fenric dodged several rowdy characters until he made it to the bar.
The barkeep was a rotund man with a long scar on the right side of his face and one milky white eye.
The other eye was a startling pale blue, like a robin’s egg.
His mouth was largely hidden under a bushy handlebar mustache.
He stood behind the bar with its giant casks of ale and a motley assortment of mugs and tankards, wiping down the counter, but his one good eye remained locked on Fenric.
Slipping onto a stool near the barkeep, Fenric pushed an overripe smile onto his lips.
“I’m gonna need two ales and two of your lunch specials.
” The barkeep grunted but didn’t move from his spot.
“And I could use some information.” As Fenric spoke, he slid a silver coin across the surface of the bar.
The man’s hands were like lightning. Fenric had barely lifted his fingertip from the coin when it just vanished.
“What are you looking for?” the barkeep asked, his lilting accent indicating he’d likely grown up in a more northern town.
“Who, actually.” Fenric leaned his forearms on the bar, only to have the bartender scowl.
He hastily straightened, lifting his arms from the nice “clean” surface that contained a lifetime of scars, stains, and the gods only knew what else.
The only thing for sure was that no amount of wiping would fix its appearance.
Fenric cleared his throat and started again.
“Calder Rigs. Deals in unique and valuable items. I heard he was passing through town. Do you know where he might have set up a temporary shop?”
“Nope.”
Fenric closed his eyes and swallowed down a frustrated groan. His silver coin was wasted if all they got out of it was lunch.
“But you can find him over at that table near the wall. Grey hair. Slender. Twitchy.”
Fenric spun around so fast he nearly fell off the stool. Just as the barkeep had described, he saw the skinny middle-aged man with bushy grey-and-black hair and spindly arms. He looked as if one of Hapi’s skeletons had stolen someone’s skin and snuck into the bar for a bite.
“Thanks,” Fenric muttered, hopping to his feet.
“The ales and lunches are four coppers,” the bartender called to his back.
Fenric rolled his eyes. So much for the silver covering the price of a meal and information. He swung one arm toward the back of the room. “Take that fee up with the big guy.”
Either Bel would cough up the money or the bartender would decide he’d been more than paid for some information.
As he approached the small table, Fenric palmed the dagger he wore on his hip and then slammed it into the table just in front of the fence’s plate. The man choked on a hunk of meat as he jerked upright, his wide eyes snapping to Fen, who grinned.
“Hi. I’m hoping you can help me locate some stolen goods that have fallen into your hands.”
Calder stammered and attempted to scramble to his feet, but Fenric snagged his jerkin at the collar and shoved him back into his seat.
“I-I assure you I don’t deal in stolen goods,” Calder finally coughed up. His eyes were bugging out of his skinny head so far that they looked about to burst. “All-all of my items are lawfully acquired and—”
“Cut the horseshit.” Fenric dropped into the seat opposite him. He released the man’s clothes but kept his fist on the knife in the center of the table. “You purchased some jewelry off a group of heroes. Particularly Lance Carrington and Gale Reeve.”
Calder swallowed loud enough to be heard across the room. “Um…they told me…”
“I don’t give a damn what they told you.
They killed my mother and stole several valuable items from her.
I want them back. All of them.” With his free hand, Fenric reached into his pocket, pulled out a worn piece of folded paper, and gave it to Calder.
“This is a list of what I’m searching for. What do you have?”
Trembling fingers caught the paper and struggled to open it.
Fenric’s heart had started to hammer. He was close this time.
After four long years, he was so close to having back all the bloodstained treasures taken from his mother.
His disillusionment with the heroes might have started well before then, but her murder had shattered his world completely.
He just wanted to salvage a few pieces and pull something of his old self together again.
He summoned up the last of his patience as he watched Calder’s watery eyes dart across the paper.
The man licked his lips. “Um…I didn’t receive a number of these items. But the brooch…the brooch I still have—”
“I want it. Now.”
Calder swallowed again. “O-okay. And the sapphire necklace. I’ve promised it to—”
“I want it back. Now. Or I can kill you.”
“O-okay. It’s yours. But Lady Ester will be…”
“You can explain to Lady Ester how the rightful owner claimed the necklace, and if she has a problem with that, she can take it up with the murderous thieves who stole it.” Each word was low and ground out between Fenric’s clenched teeth.
He was willing to go on a kingdom-wide killing spree to get back what belonged to his family. No one was going to stop him.
“I’d listen to him. He’s quite ruthless.”
Fenric’s heart skipped a beat at that playful voice. He twisted around to find Lirion seated directly behind him at the next table, wearing a pair a dark navy trousers and an airy white shirt that seemed to make his tanned skin glow. A tankard of ale sat in front of him as he slouched in his chair.
“Go away. I’m working,” Fenric snarled and turned his attention back to the fence. Lirion was the last person he wanted to see. Every time their paths crossed, something horrible went wrong. “What about the jewelry box?”
“I-I-I—”