Page 51 of Tusks & Saddles
Beatrix listened as the clerics answered Gimdor’s questions. For all his tomfoolery, when it was time for business, the man took it seriously. Beatrix ordered another round of drinks from a barmaid, along with dinner. By the time Gimdor agreed to bring word back to the mercenary guild, the table full with bowls of beef stew and day-old toast.
“One last thing, how much are y’all willing to put in for the bounty?” Gimdor asked as he dipped his toast into the stew.
“Oh, that’s a good question!” Amaldona looked to Welborn. “I’ve never put a bounty on anyone before…”
“I have some coin,” Welborn replied. “I think last I counted, I have ten gold and sixty-nine silver.”
“Nice,” Gimdor said with an amused smile.
It was clear that the clerics didn’t understand the suggestive joke. Before Gimdor could offer to explain, Beatrix took over. Her patience for the evening had gone thin.
“If the matter is urgent, the normal price is five hundred gold pieces. And before either of you throw up from shock, if you aren’t in a hurry, fifty gold should suffice.”
Five hundred gold was a bit steep but Irongarde was no Mudhaven. While the city was vastly smaller than Beryl, it still boasted enough people to warrant mercenary and thieves guilds. And if the people didn’t get you, the wildlife certainly would. Fifty gold would at least promise someone would go looking for the high cleric. Whether they returned or not depending entirely on the grit of the individual.
However, by the looks on the clerics faces, Beatrix suspected fifty gold might leave the pair starving. Though Gimdor explained that the coin wouldn’t be due until the guild handed the high cleric over, it was still a lot of gold. Gold that could be put to better use building the temple Welborn had been eager to start.
“If the price is still out of the question, y’all could always do it the old fashioned way,” Gimdor shrugged. “Put up some parchment, write the kind of reward y’all think ya can afford…orya could do it the Irongarde way.”
The two clerics blinked at Gimdor.
“What’s that?” Welborn asked.
“He means going out into the Searing Wastelands yourself. Which is a bad idea, you useless tumbleweed,” Beatrix kicked Gimdor. The man let out an audible yelp.
“You mean…leave the city limits?” Amaldona asked, looking queasy.
At least the young woman was smart in that regard.
“Ya’ll will wanna pick up some horses, I’d reckon,” Gimdor suggested. “The Wastelands go out far and wide. Ya can ride a horse for hours and feel like ya haven’t moved a step. Not to mention the heat! I tell ya, when that sun gets high—”
“I’ll do it.”
Beatrix nearly broke her neck with how quickly she turned her head to gape at Welborn. She had misheard him. There was no way this fresh-faced, inexperienced, wildly optimistic, ignorant—
“Ha! That’s the spirit!” Gimdor winked before throwing back the rest of his third ale.
I will shoot him. Right in the ass!
“Welborn, are you sure?” Amaldona asked. “The Searing Wastelands are no joke! There’s all kinds of things out there—unknown things—that could very well kill you!”
“I know,” Welborn said. “But there are things that could kill us anywhere and the High Cleric could be in danger. If I can aid in the efforts to find him, I have a responsibility to do it. I’ll go look in the Searing Wastelands. You stay here, Amaldona, in case the High Cleric comes back.”
Beatrix nearly kicked Welborn, but before she could follow through, Amaldona nearly burst into tears.
“Welborn, we’re so lucky to have you. Please know, I’ll keep you in my thoughts and that the All Seer is with you!”
“Thank you,” Welborn said, before turning his yellow eyes to Beatrix. “Miss Eaves, since you know the area so well, could I trouble you for directions?”
Chapter Nine
Welborn
“Absolutely not.”
That was what Miss Eaves had said over dinner. Not once, not twice, not even three times, but a total of seven. She refused as she finished the last bite of her toast. She refused as Welborn helped her bring back more ale and questionable milk for Amaldona. She refused even after winning three rounds of Misfortune in a row, collecting a good chunk of all their coin.
Amaldona had gone to her room, promising Welborn she would pray to the All Seer all evening. A sweet gesture, though Welborn wasn’t sure why she needed to pray for that long. He figured it was still early by tavern standards. Or perhaps the cleric could foresee that Beatrix would not be helping them before he had.
