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‘And to what do we owe the honour of your visit to Tharro?’ asks Trost the soldier, in a polite but inquisitive tone.
‘It’s on the way to Syada,’ replies Paido. ‘We’re going there in search of some work. We heard about the attack on Luukos, and we reckon there’ll be a few rich farmers there who’ll pay handsomely for us to protect their interests.’
Trost chuckles and rubs his stubbly chin. ‘I mean no offence, but if Zegron and his rabble attack the farms near Syada it’ll take more than two free-lances to turn their tails. If I were you I’d stay in Tharro—there’s plenty of work there for the likes of you. Take my advice and leave Zegron to the army. We’ll blunt his nose, don’t you worry.’
A shudder runs through the floor as the barge gets underway. A new passenger has boarded at Honey Lodge, a thin individual with hard grey eyes. He descends the tap-room stairs, pausing to shake rain from his cloak and wide-brimmed hat. Slung at his side is a narrow-bladed sword and clutched in his hand is a leather-bound book, its cover as plain and as black as his sombre clothing. Without saying a word he takes a seat in the shadows of the opposite corner and opens his book to read.
