LITMIR.BIZ

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head. ‘You were almost run down because you stopped to pick up a copper?’

      The man removed his metal helmet, revealing damp hair clinging to his head, where he had hair, for the man was at least in his forties or fifties and had lost most of the hair on top. ‘You can’t take the chance of waiting, friend,’ he said slowly, his accent giving him a full-mouth sound as he spoke, as if he was speaking around cotton wadded in his cheeks. ‘That’s five luni, it’s more money than I’ve seen in a month.’

      Something in his accent sounded familiar upon Borric’s ear, and he said, ‘Are you from the Isles?’

      The man shook his head. ‘Langost, a town in the foothills of the Peaks of Tranquillity. Our people were from Isles stock, though. My grandfather’s father was from Deep Taunton. I take it you’re from the Isles?’

      Borric shrugged as if it really didn’t matter. ‘Most recently from Durbin,’ he said. ‘But before that I was in the Isles.’

      ‘Farafra isn’t paradise, but it’s a better place than that pesthole Durbin.’ The man stuck out his hand ‘Ghuda Bulé, caravan guard, late of Hansulé, and before that Gwalin, and before that Ishlana.’

      Borric shook the man’s hand, heavily callused from years handling both sword and livestock. ‘My friends call me Madman,’ he said with a grin. ‘This is Suli.’

      Suli solemnly shook hands with the fighter, as if one among equals.

      ‘Madman? Must be a story about that name, or didn’t your father like you?’

      Borric laughed. ‘No, I did some crazy things once and the name stuck.’ Borric shook his head. ‘Caravan guard? That would explain why you knew how to move those chariot horses.’

      The man smiled, little more than curling his lip slightly, but his blue eyes danced. ‘Charioteers and their drivers give me gas. And one thing I do know about horses is that when someone is pushing on their faces, they don’t like it and will back up. You can try that with a fool wiggling their reins and trying to flick a whip behind their ear, but I wouldn’t try it with a rider on their back with a strong leg and a pair of spurs.’ He chuckled. ‘Pretty stupid, wasn’t it?’

      Borric laughed. ‘Yes, it was.’

      Ghuda Bulé drained the last of the ale from his cup and said, ‘Well, best be off to the caravansary. My most recent woman threw me out of her crib this morning when she finally figured out I wasn’t going to marry her and get a job in the city, after all. So, I’m without funds and that means time to find work. Besides, I’ve about had my fill of Farafra and could do with a change of scenery. Good day to you both.’

      Borric hesitated an instant, then said, ‘Let me buy you one.’

      Ghuda put the helm he had just retrieved back on the bar. ‘You talked me into it, Madman.’

      Borric ordered another round. When the barkeep had put the drinks down, Borric turned to the mercenary and said, ‘I need to get to the city of Kesh, Ghuda.’

      Ghuda turned about as if looking to see where he was. ‘Well, first walk that way,’ he said, pointing down the street, ‘until you reach the southern tip of the Spires of Light – it’s a large mountain range; you’ll notice them right away. Then turn left to bend around them, then right where the River Sarné runs along the north tip of the Guardians. Follow the river to a place on the Overn Deep where a lot of people live, and that’s the city of Kesh. Can’t miss it; big palace on top of a plateau, more truebloods than a dog has fleas running around. If you start now, you should get there in six or eight weeks.’

      ‘Thanks,’ said Borric drily. ‘I mean I need to get there and I’d like to hire on a caravan heading that way.’

      ‘Uh-huh,’ said Ghuda noncommittally, nodding.

      ‘And it would help if I had someone known around here to vouch for me.’

      ‘Uh-huh,’ said Ghuda. ‘So you’d like me to take you along to the caravansary and tell some unsuspecting caravan master that you’re my old friend from home, a truly cracking good swordsman, who, by the way, is called the Madman.’

      Borric closed his eyes as if he had a headache. ‘Not quite.’

      ‘Look, friend, I thank you for the drink, but that doesn’t entitle you to risk my good name by making recommendations that are bound to reflect badly on me in time.’

      Borric said, ‘Wait a minute! Who said it would reflect badly on you? I’m a competent swordsman.’

      ‘Without a sword?’

      Borric shrugged. ‘That’s a long story.’

      ‘It always is.’ Ghuda picked up his helm and put it crookedly upon his head. ‘Sorry.’

      ‘I’ll pay you.’

      Ghuda took his helmet off and put it back on the bar. He signalled to the barman for another round. ‘Well, then, let’s cut to the heart of it. Reputations have a certain value, don’t they? What do you suggest?’

      ‘What will you earn on a trip from here to Kesh?’

      Ghuda considered. ‘It’s a pretty uneventful route, well patrolled by the army, so there’s little pay, which is why there are always caravans needing guards. A large caravan, perhaps ten ecu. A small one, five. And food on the trip of course. Maybe a bonus if there are bandits along the way we have to fight.’

      Borric did a quick calculation in his head – he could only think in terms of Kingdom coins – and reviewed the money he had in his purse from Salaya and his poker winnings on ship. ‘I’ll tell you what. Get the three of us hired on to guard a caravan and I’ll double whatever is paid you.’

      ‘Let me get this right: we get you on a caravan to Kesh and you’ll give me your wages when we get there?’

      ‘That’s right.’

      ‘No,’ he said, drinking down his ale. ‘What guarantee do I have you’ll not skip out with the money before I can collect?’

      Borric gave him an exasperated look. ‘You’d doubt my word?’

      ‘Doubt your word? Sonny, we’ve just met. And what would you think if you were me and this was being proposed to you by someone who’s called “Madman”?’ He looked significantly down at his empty cup.

      Borric signalled for another round. ‘All right, I’ll pay you half on account before we leave and the rest when we get there.’

      Ghuda still wasn’t convinced. ‘And what about the boy? No one will consider him a likely guard.’

      Borric turned to look at Suli who was now clearly wobbling from the influence of three ales. ‘He can pass work. We’ll hire him on to the caravan as a cook’s monkey.’

      Suli just nodded, bleary-eyed. ‘Cook.’

      ‘But can you handle a blade, Madman?’ asked Ghuda, seriously.

      Borric said matter-of-factly, ‘Better than any man I’ve met.’

      Ghuda’s eyes widened. ‘That’s a boast!’

      Borric grinned. ‘I’m still alive, aren’t I?’

      Ghuda stared at Borric a moment, then threw back his head and laughed. ‘Ah, that’s good.’ Killing what was left of his ale, Ghuda pulled out his two long dirks, and reversed the one in his left hand, handing it to Borric. ‘Show me what you’ve got. Madman.’

      Suddenly Borric was twisting and parrying a vicious lunge, barely able to avoid a potentially killing stroke. He didn’t hesitate as he struck the mercenary as hard a blow to the head as he could with his left hand. As Ghuda shook his head to clear it, Borric lunged, and the mercenary was falling away from the point, striking a table with his back.

      The barman shouted, ‘Here you two! Stop breaking up my shop!’

      Ghuda

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