Chapter 3

Approximately 20 miles south of the Windspear Hills


The sun blazed overhead as it had for two weeks, baking the clay-rich ground until it cracked and split in places. Keldorn halted his horse to take his bearings. “Not much further, old girl” he said, patting the Appaloosa on the withers. Keldorn wiped the sweat from his brow and took a long pull from his canteen.

Torm forgive me, but I wish the coach robbery had happened in a more agreeable season. I only hope my trip hasn’t been a waste of time.

Keldorn made his way along a final ridge of hills, looking down at the valley below. Beyond the valley he could see the outskirts of the Sun Elf reservation. He winced at the sight.

The Human-Elven wars had always saddened Keldorn. He’d fought on the northern frontiers in his days in the cavalry, against the Moon Elf tribe led by Everain. The elves had been the aggressors in that conflict, but Keldorn had taken no joy in the fighting. He found them to be a noble people, far from the backwards-looking tree huggers most of his contemporaries saw them as. It seemed natural to Keldorn that a long-lived people such as they would resent the sort of rapid change man brought.

The Sun Elf tribe was a particularly tragic case. After being decimated by a series of wars, wars that no one could seem to remember the hows or whys of what started them, they’d been forced to cede most of their land. Wealthy investors, such as Anarg, quickly bought the land. The remaining Sun Elves crowded onto the reservation set up by the Amnian government. Their numbers grew less each year, as the tribe decided not to bring more children into a world that was no longer theirs. Keldorn tried to find a lesson in the tragedy, but never could.


The old sheriff came out of his reverie as he spotted a small cabin near a trickling stream. He could hear the rhythmic “thwack!” of wood being chopped and split from somewhere near it. Keldorn dismounted and walked his horse towards the camp.


*

Valygar hefted the axe over his shoulder once again, his bare chest and back glistening with sweat from his efforts.

Thwack!

Another oak log split neatly into two.

“I do hope you won’t be doing too much more of that” said the voice from behind him.

Valygar planted the axe in a stump and wiped his brow. “As a matter of fact, that was the last one, my love.”

“Do not ‘my love’ me, husband” retorted the bronze-skinned woman. “You know perfectly well how I feel about the taking of healthy trees.”

“I believe you have told me about it once or twice, Jaheira” grinned Valygar. “Besides, I planted several acorns, as I always do.”

“Forgive me” Jaheira said. “I know you are as conscientious as I about respecting the forest.” “And I must admit, I do enjoy watching you without your shirt” she added, a twinkle in her eyes.

Valygar was about to make a suitably suggestive response when he heard the whinny of a horse from out front. Frowning, he pulled on his shirt and got the rifle from the cabin.

*

The back room of Anarg’s general store.


“Make yourself at home” Anarg said, offering a chair to Yoshimo. “Whiskey?”

“Thank you, but I do not drink” Yoshimo replied. Not while I’m discussing business, anyway.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll have to have one for the both of us” joked Anarg, pouring himself a stiff tumbler of brandy. He took out a humidor. “I don’t suppose you’d care for a ceegar?”

“I would be most honored” the Kozakuran said graciously. Yoshimo selected a cigar and fumbled it like a novice. Hmm, a hand-wrapped Rundeen from Chult. It would seem my prospective employers has both a taste for luxury and deep pockets. A most useful revelation.


“Now” Anarg said, puffing away. “Suppose you tell me what your price is?”

Yoshimo kept his face neutral. He has wealth and brains, but not social grace. A commoner, not a noble. Fine words will be wasted here.


“What are you willing to offer?”

“You heard me outside, didn’t ya?”

“Yes, I did. But I remember your offer there was…75 gold? I do not work for scraps.”

Anarg puffed thoughtfully. “No. I don’t suppose that you do. What would be more to your appetite?”

Yoshimo puffed and suppressed a small smile. “That will depend on what I am to do.”

Anarg grinned. “I think we understand each other, Yoshimo. Do I need to spell it out to ya?”

“No, I believe I know what you wish to occur. Beyond the return of the payroll shipment. You will want proof of the Rashemani’s death?”

“Hmm… Tell you what. Bring me that pet woodchuck of his. He wouldn’t give that up while he were still breathin’.”

Yoshimo drew a long puff and blew several smoke rings, giving the appearance of being in deep thought. “2000 gold” he said. “Plus room and board until the job is finished.”

Anarg kept his own face neutral. 2000 gold was a lot of money, but it would be well worth getting back the shipment and making an example of the bandit. But he was not about to give in so easily.

“I was thinkin’ more like 1300 gold, Yoshimo” he said, taking a sip of brandy.

“Dangerous work often requires me to use unconventional methods” Yoshimo replied. “Which are often expensive. But perhaps I break even at…1700 gold?”

“Done” Anarg said, smiling broadly. “And ye’ll get the best room in the inn, on top of that. Anarg LeClerc always keeps his bargains!”

“As do I” Yoshimo smiled, taking the other man’s hand in a firm handshake.