A Magic Broken Read Free Page A

if’n yer employer ever wants to hire a wardog again, he’ll make damn sure ye paid it too.”
    The one-legged man jumped suddenly as Nicolas slammed the required two silver coins down on the table in front of him.
    “There’s your cursed silver, Sammy. But you bloody well better find me something soon! And not mindless bravo work like walking mules back and forth through the blasted pass either!”
    “No need to cuss at Old Sammy, captain. There ain’t but what there is. T’aint a lot o’ demand this time of year. No one with any sense has the stomach fer blood once the snows start fallin’. Too hard to get about. Come spring, ye can probably hire out as the head of a company, since ye look like ye knows yez business, and some fool nobles’re always looking to grab lands that belong to someone else. But it’s too late in the season for any new campaignin’. If there’s a merchant looking for a bodyguard or an escort, I’d advise ye to take it. But do what ye like, t’aint my belly that’ll be yowling when ye run out of coin.”
    Old Sammy pushed himself up from the bench and stumped over to a small room without a door, indicating that Nicolas should follow. He unlocked a rusty strongbox, dropped in the two silvers, and withdrew a stamped brass slug, which he handed to Nicolas. On one side was the guild’s insignia, on the other was the bear of Malkan. Nicolas examined it and raised an eyebrow.
    “Don’t lose it,” Old Sammy warned him as he dipped his pen in the inkwell. “Cost ye a silver to get another. Now, what’s yer name again? Nico d’Mare?”
    And so with little ado, Nicolas established himself as a mercenary in good standing with that fine, upstanding organization, the Mercenaries Guild of Malkan. When he left, not bothering to partake in what Sammy informed him was the customary celebratory cup of ale, he saw the girl outside was still there, but she had fallen over on her side and was now snoring softly.
    An old friar wearing the brown robes of one of the mendicant orders was kneeling down beside her, attempting to wake her. Nicolas nodded approvingly to the clergyman as he passed them by. It might be a small mercy, but it was one that cheered him all the same.
    His morning task complete, it was now time for an unexpectedly fortuitous meeting with his first employer.
    It did not take long to find the man he sought. The tavern where the meeting was arranged was only five streets away from the guild hall, and no sooner had his eyes adjusted to the darkness within than he spotted his contact. A short, rotund fellow with a well-trimmed beard, the man, obviously a merchant of minor standing, was visibly ill at ease even though the shabby lot in the room were already too deep into their cups to pay him any notice. One rough-looking man in the far corner appeared as if he might at least be capable of posing a threat, but he was deep in conversation with a short-bearded dwarf.
    “Relax, friend,” Nicolas told him as the man whirled around fearfully at his approach. “Monsieur Jean-Baptiste sends his regards from Lutèce.”
    “You’re…” The man swallowed hard, then tried again. “You’re the one they’re sending?”
    “Sent, rather. If you can confirm for me that you’re the man I’ve been seeking.”
    The little merchant nodded quickly. “Yes, yes. Um, Mademoiselle Verdun sends her regards, as well. I’m Jervais.”
    Nicolas snorted, wondering who had chosen this ridiculous place for their meeting. It had been someone who didn’t understand the first thing about remaining inconspicuous, that much was certain. Jervais was probably the first merchant to set foot in this stinking rathole in years. True, neither the dwarves nor the bored serving girl looked to have even the slightest interest in either Jervais or Nicolas himself, but there was no knowing who might be a spy in a city where gold flowed as freely as it did here.
    However, he’d seen no signs of anyone following him since