Questioning
I nodded, but didn't bother to respond. His task was simple enough, and with any luck I'd be back in a few hours, ready to collect the reward he'd promised. It had been a strange series of events that had led me to the small cottage he kept in the swamps outside of Ravenfall, and when he'd answered the door at my knock I nearly walked away. Even with a dozen years of experience behind me and my shortbow at the ready, I hadn't be prepared for the sheer ugliness of Rogosh the Unloved, although his appearance told the tale of his name.
“Bring me sixteen lurker hearts,” he croaked out as I finished loading my pack with the glass jars he'd provided, “no more, and no less – and make sure they're not from females. What I have in mind will only work if they're male hearts. You hear me? Male!”
I had a sarcastic reply on my lips when he held up the boots he was willing to give up in exchange for the materials I would deliver. Items of magic were uncommon in the Southland, and though I'd seen a few of higher quality in my travels, I'd never been in a position to actually own a piece of magical equipment that I could use. Rogosh had let me try the boots on briefly to confirm their supernatural properties, and I'd been impressed. My aim had always been true, but with the boots on even distant sites appeared as though the were close up, and I was sure I could deliver shots with a level of perfection I'd never before imagined.
Did I consider killing Rogosh and simply taking the boots, as well as whatever else he had in his house that was of value? Of course. The trouble was that I wasn't a fan of murder, even for great treasure, since it had the unfortunate habit of being found out at the least opportune moment. That, and the fact that I wasn't sure how many other magical pieces Rogosh might have laying around, and how many he might be wearing. He didn't look much like a mage, and he was certainly no warrior, but even the most pathetic creature could be made powerful with the right kind of magical accessories.
“Male,” I said shortly, “sixteen hearts. Expect me before the sun rises tomorrow.”
Rogosh snorted. He didn't know me, so had no way to judge if I was simply being boastful. I wasn't.
***
Two hours later, I had eight hearts already jarred and packed, and the arrow that would bring me my ninth was nocked and ready. Before I could loose it, however, a huge main in a mail loincloth came blundering into the marshy clearing in front of me, swinging a battle-axe in a wide arc. Through sheer ferocity and dumb luck he managed to catch the wing of the lurker in front of him, then finished the small gray beast off with a another heavy blow. Bending down, he tore apart the thing's carcass with his bare hands, and pulled out its still-beating heart. A glass jar appeared from a pack on his shoulder I hadn't noticed, and I heard him grunt out a single word.
“Sixteen.”
My arrow was away before I'd had a chance to think it through, and then I was moving as well, slipping into the clearing to take what I needed from the pack of the now-dead warrior. It was clear what was happening, here – Rogosh hadn't dealt fairly with me, and seemed to think someone else would be better to get the job done.
Fool.
***
Through the small window into the cabin, I could see Rogosh pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. By now, he had to be wondering what had happened to all of those he sent out, all of the fools that had taken on his quest, having no idea they were being duped.
I'd found five more of them on my way back to the cabin. Three were easily convinced to give up their struggle to find the hearts at the point of my bow, but two I'd had to waylay in order to keep them from Rogosh's door. Killing the warrior had been my only option – those fools never listened to reason -but the priest and the rogue I'd found were easily trapped once conversation with them had come to a dead end.
I smiled. Rogosh should have dealt fairly with me, and he would have received his hearts quickly, with a minimum of fuss. Now, I was going to have to show the little man what it meant to cross a true hunter.
An hour later, his frustration finally got the better of him and he flung open the front door of his cabin and stumped outside, robe flapping in the stiff breeze. My first shot caught him just under the armpit, snagging the black fabric and pinning him to the doorframe. Before he had a chance to react, I'd let three more missiles fly, and Rogosh was trapped.
“What is the meaning of this?” He screamed as I emerged from the brush. “Why have you done this, hunter?”
“Me?” I affected innocence. “You're the one selling my job out from under me, breaking the agreement we made. I found your warrior in the woods, Rogosh. I found your priest, your rogue. I found them all!” Stalking toward him, I pulled the dagger from my belt. “Talk! Where are the boots?”
“In the main room!” He wailed. “But you don't understand! I have many rewards, many to give out. You would have been paid in full.”
Nonsense! Did the Symian think I was an idiot, that I'd truly believe he could create items of out thin air each time another adventurer returned with his hearts? I found the boots exactly where Rogosh had left them and slipped them on, dropping my sack of hearts in their place. I'd done what was asked – I deserved to be paid.
“Quest complete,” I said, moving past the small man, who was still struggling to free himself from his robe. I shot him a broad grin. “This was quite the experience.”
Whistling a light tune, I headed out of the swamp. Ravenfall was calling.
- D
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