Darkwell - Douglas Niles [118]
"Why did you seek me for this offer?"
Hobarth silently damned the man's curiosity. He had hoped the money alone would be enough to remove all doubts. "I have stayed in this town for several days. All around I see signs of slavish devotion to this upstart king, as if he is a god descended from the Outer Planes! You, on the other hand, have the reputation of being a free thinker, a man who is no man's lackey. Now answer; will you do this thing?"
Another suspicion lit the lord's eyes. "How do I know you do not wish to steal the crown for yourself?"
Hobarth shrugged. "Take it wherever you wish. I have no desire to see it. I simply want you to remove it from the castle."
"I know just the place," chuckled Pontswain, growing enthusiastic. In fact, he began to embellish the plan on his own. Perhaps the crown would not have to be returned for a very long time… "I shall take it to my own cantrev, where I can be sure it will remain safe."
"Splendid," said the cleric, nodding. "That would be superb!"
"Now, about the gold…"
"Of course." Hobarth reached under the table for the sack he had claimed as his share from the plundering of the Iron Keep. He had barely more than two hundred gold, but that was of no matter. This fool would never collect the second payment. "Here. I suggest you take it somewhere private to count it."
Pontswain's eyes widened at the size of the pouch, and his hands trembled as he reached forward to sweep it into his hands. "Yes, of course. But I'm certain you'll have the correct amount, for I have not yet performed your task!" He seemed pleased with his clever deduction, but then his eyes clouded again.
"And where will you meet me with the second payment?"
"You say you will go to your cantrev. Why not there? But one other thing… you must do this task within the next two days."
"Two days! But I will need time to plan, to cover my tracks!"
Hobarth shrugged and reached for the sack. "Then I shall have to find someone else…"
"No! Very well, in two days! Meet me at Cantrev Pontswain four days from now." The lord described the road to his cantrev, which lay perhaps thirty miles away, along the southern shore of Corwell Firth. Hobarth listened patiently, nodding as if he would actually make the trip.
"Now, good luck to you. You'd best be off, before we are observed talking."
"Yes, yes, of course!" the lord replied, nodding and taking a furtive look around the empty inn. Only the unshaven innkeeper shared the room with them, and he was busily scrubbing the bar. "Four days, then."
"Yes, four days." Hobarth smiled, Pontswain thought because of their arrangement. In reality, the cleric was contemplating the pleasant knowledge that, before four days passed, Caer Corwell would be a heap of rubble, joining the Iron Keep at the bottom of the sea.
* * * * *
Once again black night descended around the companions in Myrloch Vale. They were no closer to their destination than they had been at the height of the day. All afternoon they had marched along the vast fissure, moving steadily eastward as they sought a place to cross. But the gap was too wide for even the tallest tree to bridge, seeming to mark an eternal scar across the face of the earth. Now, as darkness fell, they sought a place to make camp in the dead forest, surrounded by the towering proof of the potency of their foe.
The sudden loss of the four sister knights had quelled their rising optimism with brutal abruptness. The long afternoon's march had been glum and silent, aggravated by the frustrating knowledge that their objective lay only a day's march to the north, but every step they took moved them farther away.
Tristan saw Tavish stumble and lean weakly against the firbolg. The bard grew numb with fatigue, and he knew that