Life moved on, and when the lady was clear of the Hall, they turned their attention to their business.
"Not many ladies around here like that, wouldn't you say?" the Theros mercenary asked, transparently searching for any information on the contract. "What brought her to our doors?"
"A contract. What else?" Pennar collected the coins from the table.
"Not an expensive one. Only five silvers?"
"Folk have killed for less," the guildmaster explained and tugged his beard.
"Will you tell us what it's about?"
"You'll have to see it if it makes it to the contract board, Felix. Exactly like everyone else."
The man snorted. "Ass."
He seemed cheerful enough with the outcome of his probing, however, and Pennar watched him walk away before he took three of the coins—those paid to him for his silence—and slipped them into his pocket before he picked up the other two.
"Fucking barbarians. Never thought I would hope to have more of his like around, but having ten of them would certainly put a dent in the jobs in our particular market, and at a better price too. Oi, boy, get off your ass. You have work to do!"
The boy in question jumped from the barrel he was seated on. He was one of the squires for the Guild Hall and more than useful for running errands around the city.
"You need me, sir?"
"I need you to find Skharr. I doubt he has moved away from the Swilling Mermaid but if he has, the innkeeper will know where more than likely. When you find the fucker, tell him I have work for which he has been specifically requested, got it?"
"Man'll want some coin in his purse to loosen his tongue, you think?"
"It’s not likely that I'll give you any coin. Not again. Tell him that if he wants a bribe, he can send someone to me for it. Away with you!"
The boy darted away like he had been stung. It wasn't like the youths to not take what coin they could when they could. Most were drawn from the streets of the city and knew only to take what they could, honor be damned, but he tried to teach them a different way.
Not all would reach the end of the path to be mercenaries themselves, but those who did would make all his efforts worthwhile.
Chapter Two
Godsbedammed, it was morning already.
There were a handful of reasons why he shouldn't have situated himself at an inn so close to the docks. One was the ever-present smell of fish that hung over the establishment that would not leave even if the owner washed it down with lye.
A second was the fact that every morning—even those on which he had no intention to rise with the sun—there was the sound of movement outside. Humanity made so much noise and together with that of beasts of burden that helped their owners, created a cacophony called business. He wouldn’t tell anyone they couldn't ply their trade, but there were a few times when he wished he could move to the mountains where silence was prevalent.
Or maybe one of the villas deeper inside the city. The one night spent there had been in complete silence from the outside, although not much of it from the inside.
It hadn't been the most restful night, but he had at least managed some sleep.
The woman in the bed with him moaned softly and muttered something before she sighed, shifted slightly, and slipped back into a deep sleep.
She was still clothed—something anyone who knew him wouldn’t believe. He’d had no intention to force himself on her, even though she had joined him in his room for the past few nights.
Skharr had even offered to sleep on the floor on the first evening when he’d rescued the frightened young woman from the street. A group of men had followed her late at night, their nefarious intentions clear. His presence with her had driven them off, and she’d asked him if she could sleep in his room for the night. A few more nights followed, and he’d woken every morning with her in his bed.
He had a feeling she was surprised that their involvement hadn't ended in sex but despite the few nights spent together, he still knew almost nothing about her, let alone what she thought or felt. The dark hair and tanned skin suggested any number of locations of origin, none of which he could pinpoint, even with her accent.
All he knew was that she was not local, and that was only from what the innkeeper had told him. That and her name—Ingaret.
The young woman had insisted that he join her in bed, and he woke a few times to find her nestled against his chest. It wasn't for warmth since the nights seldom got too cold in this part of the world. Maybe she was simply used to sleeping with someone else.
The barbarian was not, and he disentangled himself gently from her before he sat on the edge of the bed.
A life of peace did not suit him. Odd, that.
She mumbled again and as a cock crowed outside their window, she sat immediately, her eyes wide and mouth open, and a small gasp escaped her lips as she woke.
Bad dreams plagued her—one thing he did know about her. Like him, he supposed, but perhaps not quite as visual as his.
"Lord Skharr?" she asked and looked around, her eyes still not adjusted to the darkness.
Even so, he was not easy to miss. A hulking mass of a human seated on the bed not two feet away from her was easily discernible.
"Not a lord," he grunted softly, stood, and stretched until his knuckles scraped across the ceiling.
"Ah…yes, I remember. I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't. I offered to sleep on the floor if I disturbed you."
"You didn't. I like having the company."
Ingaret had mentioned that before. He wasn't sure what it meant and he wasn't the type to question it.
"Hmm," he grunted.
She smiled and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. "You don't appear to enjoy my company, not the way most men would. Why would you take someone into your room if you don't like to be around them?"
Her literacy was certainly something to note. An educated woman wandering the streets of the city late at night was curious, to say the least.
"We protect each other," he stated finally and rolled his stiff neck.
"And how do I protect the feared Barbarian of Theros?"
"The…what?"
"It's… Well, talk of you has spread. You are known as the Barbarian of Theros, your chosen guild."
"Oh."
"How do you believe I protect you?"
"With you in my bed each night, I have no fear that a young whore might tempt me. There is always the risk that she gives me something that needs curing—through fucking or by knifing me in my sleep for my coin."
Ingaret nodded, tilted her head, and drew her slip a little tighter around herself. The gesture wasn’t one of discomfort or even a sign that she was cold. To his mind, it was reflexive.
The lie was a passable one and she appeared to accept it without question.
Finally, she appeared to relax, shook her head, and pushed away the nightmares that haunted her. She stood as well and searched for where she had placed her clothes the night before.
"Can I come back tonight?"
"Yes."
She smiled, approached him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. He returned the embrace. She craved closeness and if he said he didn't appreciate it, he would be lying.