Page 4 of Garlands and Gauntlets

Cedric Greymarch was the lord of this land, father of two boys–one who was said to be horribly disfigured, the other who was set to inherit his lordship. When Lord Greymarch died a fewmonths ago, his younger son took over, the older was said to have passed away from his long-time illnesses…

“Lady Greymarch got it on with an orc?” I hiss.

Theo gently shoves my shoulder, so careful that I can tell he fears he’d hurt me.

“Sorry,” I say. “That’s not the point. You’re the older son.Wow.”

“Yeah,” he says. “And I’m…a little lost. I think my only option is to find my real father.”

I raise my eyebrows. “So you want help finding…what? An orcish warlord? Do you even have a name?”

His brow furrows. “Only his first name,” he says. “Torin. That’s all my mother ever told me before she died.”

I stare at him for a long moment, trying to figure out if he’s pulling my leg. But the earnest look on his face, the way his brows knit together in frustration, tells me this isn’t a joke.

Theodore Greymarch–the mysterious eldest son of Cedric Greymarch, presumed dead by this whole city, heir to one of the wealthiest families in Hearthwynd–is standing in front of me, trusting me with the kind of secret that could make a fortune on the wrong lips.

And instead of licking my chops at the potential payday, I feel…guilty?

No. That can’t be right.

“You’ve really had a rough go of it, huh?” I ask.

Theo shrugs those massive shoulders. “I guess you could say that. My half-brother made it pretty clear there’s no place for me back at Greymarch Manor. He gave me a death certificate and everything. Said it was safer for me to just…disappear.”

I let out a low whistle. “That’s cold.”

“Yeah,” he mutters.

I sit with that for a minute, tell myself I’m trying to figure out my next move…but all I can think about is how sorry I feel for him. His home is gone, his family turned on him. And now he’s wandering the city, looking for a father who might not even know he exists.

“So,” I say. “What’s the plan? You going to knock on every orcish stronghold’s door and ask if a guy named Torin happens to live there?”

Theo laughs, and the sound makes my heart do that annoying flutter thing again. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve just been wandering around the city, trying to figure out what to do.”

I sigh. Frankly, it’s a shock he hasn’t been swindled already. And this would be a perfect opportunity to tell him I can get him the information he needs, to ask for a retainer, tell him I’m going to contact an information broker…

…but it occurs to me that he’s going to get eaten alive without me.

And I can’t decide if it’s because he’s an easy mark or because I’m starting to like him, but I can’t just leave him to flounder on his own.

“Alright,” I say, leaning back against the alley wall. “How about I don’t just give you a tour? Let me help you out.”

His eyes widen slightly. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah,” I say, shrugging like it’s no big deal. It is, in fact, a big deal. Averybig deal, given that I’m passing up a massive opportunity to make some serious money. “Like I said, I’ve got a soft spot for lost puppies. And let’s be honest–you could use someone who knows how to navigate the city. I have an orcish acquaintance who might be able to clue you in on where to go next.”

Theo stares at me like he can read my mind. He doesn’t seem to come up with anything–then his eyes narrow slightly, and I can practically see the gears turning in that big head of his. “Why would you do that for me?”

I roll my eyes, pushing off the wall and brushing fresh snow from my cloak. “Look, I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart,” I admit. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t let a favor go unpaid. Consider it…an investment.”

He frowns, crossing those massive arms over his chest. Okay–I really need to get out of my head about his arms. “An investment?”

“Exactly,” I grin. “You get what you need, I help you get there, and maybe one day you’ll repay the favor. You know, when you’re a rich lord or war hero or whatever it is you’re destined to become.”

He’s still frowning, but it’s softer now as he mulls over my words. Finally, he lets out a slow breath and nods. “Alright. But if you’re lying to me–”

“I’m not,” I hold up my hand as if giving an oath. “Scout’s Honor.”

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