The Jewel of Turmish - Mel Odom [11]
"You're a fool for going with him," Kord said as he helped his brother to his feet. That man will cut your throat and feed you to the wolves we're hunting."
"He didn't kill your brother," Druz pointed out.
"He knew he would have the rest of us against him if he did." Kord's youthful pride wouldn't let him entirely accept the defeat he'd just been handed.
"From what I've heard about the Emerald Enclave," Druz said, settling the pack across her shoulders, "the druid would probably have made good on his threat to kill us all, even without the bear."
The bear, too, had disappeared back into the forest.
"Don't overlook the druid's generosity." Druz started for the clearing's edge.
Then why are you going with him?" Kord asked.
"Because I have to."
That's not it," Tethys put in. "Druz has heard the jingle of the shepherd's money bags. If she goes with the druid and brings back proof of the kill, she'll claim the bounty for herself."
"No," Druz said. That's not what this is about for me."
Tethys laughed mirthlessly. "Well see, girl, but if you try to cut us out of what's lawfully ours, 111 slit your throat myself."
Druz shrugged off the threat. She'd been around men like Tethys nearly all her life. In the next instant, she plunged into the forest, following the small, wiggling bushes that marked the druid's passage. She lengthened her stride, hoping to catch up.
CHAPTER THREE
Do do you think he has something worth taking, Cerril?"
Angry and paranoid, Cerril turned to the speaker, a small boy of about twelve-a year younger than Cerril. Before the other boy could move, Cerril cuffed his head.
"OwF the other boy complained, wrapping his fingers and palms around his head in case Cerril decided to try his luck again. He ducked and took a step back. All of them knew to expect violence when Cerril got upset.
"Whyn't you just announce to the world what we're after here?"
"I'm sorry," the younger boy said ruefully.
"If one of these sailors overhears a question like that," Cerril promised in a harsh whisper, "you're going to have to learn to breathe through your ears because he'll cut your throat for you."
"Not if we cut his throat first." The young boy took a handmade knife from his ragged breeches and dragged the ball of his thumb along the uneven blade's edge. Blood dotted his flesh and he licked at it with his pink tongue.
"Oh, yeah, Hekkel," one of the other boys sneered in a harsh whisper, "and how many throats have you cut this tenday? Or any other tenday? You still ain't killed that man your mama's taken up with this last month."
"Shut up!" Hekkel ordered, taking a small, defiant step forward.
Cerril cuffed the small boy on the head again, eliciting a cry of pain this time.
"Gods' blood, Cerril!" Hekkel cried out. "Stop hitting me."
A passing sailor from one of the ships docked in Alaghфn's harbor glanced over at them. He carried his duffel over his shoulder, a jug of wine in one hand, and had his other arm wrapped around the ample waist of a serving wench Cerril recognized from Elkor's Brazen Trumpet.
"Hey," the sailor grunted, coming to a halt and staring into the shadows of the alley where the seven boys took shelter from scrutiny. "What the Nine Hells are ye children doing out here at this time of night?"
"We're not damned children!" Cerril snapped.
He turned to confront the sailor. Anger burned along the back of his neck. His own mother, like Hekkel's, oft times lived with sailing men on leave from one ship or another that put up prolonged anchorage in Alagh6n's port. He'd never known his father.
The sailor laughed, already three sheets to the wind. The serving wench wasn't in much better shape.
"Ye're children," the sailor argued. "Maybe ye're mean, nasty, Cyric-blasted children, but ye're still children."
Cerril's knife leaped to his hand and he started forward. He was big for his age, almost as tall as the sailor and easily as heavy with