25. At Kroon’s table

One of the things Kroon most hated was being the last person to know what was going on around him. He was the last person to know what had happened in the slaver’s house. The last person to learn that the Pearl Brotherhood’s headquarters had been attacked during the night by some hooded strangers. And the last person to be aware that Sheroda had vanished and that her two trustworthy bodyguards had been murdered. Kroon had always thought of them as two great warriors. But even a great warrior may be defeated if a murderer stabs him in his own bed.

He raised a tired gaze around the table. Tildrin was propping up his head with his hands, looking unusually mournful. Azune was splintering the table with a knife, and for an instant, Kroon felt the urge to remind her that she was spoiling his table, but he swallowed his words and turned to Rowyn. The “captain” of the band looked as if he was suffering from brutal indigestion. His conscience—he had said—had become as dirty as a canal of the city because he had abandoned the barbarian while this one was saving his life. When Kroon had remarked that, anyway, the barbarian probably hadn’t a clear conscience either, the Duke had looked daggers at him.

“Well, well, well,” the monk said suddenly. The others jumped in their seats. “So we no longer have a Supreme. Any volunteer to replace her?”

Azune gave back a gloomy look at him.

“Kroon, the Pearl Brotherhood is dead.”

Kroon shook his head slightly. He saw the room with a crystal-clear clarity even though this one was, for the others, plunged in the dark. He had never quite understood why the effects of that healing potion had left him that way; but, honestly, finding out the reason wasn’t something he felt overly interested in.

Dead, Azune had said. Yes, perhaps she was right, but what did it matter? It was only a name.

“The Duke, Tildrin, Axef, you, and me,” Kroon enumerated eloquently. “No, Azu, the Pearl Brotherhood is not dead.”

Azune kept ruining his table wordlessly. Again, Kroon watched his three companions, and he sighed, exasperated.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled. “You cannot keep that dejected look on your face. Like it’s the end of the world.”

Abruptly, the door opened, and Kroon lowered his eyes down to his missing legs, avoiding light. When the door was finally closed, he looked at Axef’s smiling face with a squinted eye.

“What of the boy?” he inquired.

Axef furrowed his brow.

“What boy?”

Kroon croaked.

“Almogan Mazer, for the Divinity’s sake!”

“Oh. The boy. Do you really want to know? He was still there when I left him. Alive, but in despair, unless he was furious. Yes, he was too. Not dead, I think. He threw the lamp in my face. That is, he attempted to. Luckily, he didn’t manage to grasp it; otherwise, he would’ve actually thrown it. The boy,” he repeated with an ironic smile.

Kroon joined his hands in relief.

“Good. What are those voices behind the door?” he asked.

Axef’s smile widened.

“Some people. They just wanted to follow me. I think it is because they like Orange,” he added, looking down over his tunic. “Or perhaps it is simply a coincidence.”

Immediately, they all tensed up.

“Whom you brought?” Azune asked. “Open the door.”

Axef opened it and waved the outside people inside. Kroon saw five people coming in: a man with a hat, a woman with generous curves, and three young ladies. Azune snorted.

“What are you doing here?”

The Shalussi barbarian took off his hat like a gentleman before answering:

“We’ve come to help.”

The Duke, Azune, Tildrin, and Kroon stared at him, not knowing exactly how to react to such an absurd statement. At last, Kroon said:

“Help, huh? Sit down, barbarian, though I have no idea how you can help us.”

“Where’s the shadow?” Azune inquired. Kroon noticed that the half-elf’s eyes had rested on a bag that one of the Xalyas was carrying. The bag was hanging down, almost empty.

“He’s gone,” the barbarian girl whispered in a soft voice. “He said he was going to save Dash.”

Neither she nor Azune commented anything else. Kroon still hardly believed that a shadow had been following the barbarian. Well, he did know that those creatures existed, but… he couldn’t help recalling what was said of them: they were evil, brought bad luck, were insidious and deceitful… Bah. If the little monster was gone to look for the barbarian, so much the better.

All of them sat down, including Axef, who seemed to be the only one a bit enthusiastic. Kroon wondered why.

“First off, what were your names again?” he demanded. “My memory is not as it used to be.”

They introduced themselves: Rokuish, Zaadma, Fayrah, Lessi, and Aligra. The first one was nervous, the second looked thoughtful, Fayrah’s and Lessi’s eyes were glittering, and Aligra wore the expression of a murderous night owl.

“Well, well, well,” Kroon said. “So you are the one who saved the Duke from the slavers, huh, barbarian?” Rokuish shrugged modestly. Kroon looked at the young woman beside him. “And you are the owner of the thief lantern.”

“I am not the owner,” Zaadma replied, producing the notorious disk. “Let me say it clearly: I don’t belong to the Dream Brotherhood. This lantern does not belong to me but an old partner of mine. Besides—”

Kroon interrupted her by holding up a hand. The way Zaadma talked, it was clear she was an incurable talker, and he had a pointed lack of patience towards the people afflicted with verbosity.

“Thank you for the clarifications,” he emphasized. “And now, tell us you guys, how do you want to help us?”

Rokuish cleared his throat.

“Those slavers…”

Kroon cut him off.

“We’ve already had enough problems with those slavers. We don’t want to get deeper into trouble. If you really want to help us, give us gold: our Supreme has run off, and as for our patron, she will probably not want to have anything to do with us anymore. Actually, only the Supreme used to deal with her. Hey, barbarian, do you really want to help us? Or are you expecting to find more hands to try to save your friend, the barbarian? Assuming he’s still alive.”

The steppe people turned pale, and the Duke clenched his fist.

“Kroon!” he bellowed. “That barbarian, as you said, was a good man.”

“Yes, I do believe he was,” Kroon approved with a sudden certainty. “But we cannot save all the good men of this world, Duke. The slavers have proved to be smarter than we are. Now it’s time to accept the defeat and go back to healthier habits. Your dear Dashvara has betrayed us, Duke.”

Rowyn went white, but he said nothing. In the silence, Azune was jabbing her knife into the table, looking unaware of what she was doing. Then, one of the Xalyas, Fayrah, shook her head briskly.

“No,” she said. “My brother has not betrayed you. He would never betray anyone,” she affirmed.

Her friend Lessi approved with a nod, looking at them all with conviction. Aligra, after a second of hesitation, confirmed the assertion. They did believe so. Brave barbarian girls. Kroon was too old to have faith like them. He couldn’t think of another possibility: the barbarian had sung.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally muttered. “Anyhow, the slavers discovered the Supreme, and the Brotherhood has one foot in the abyss. We cannot afford to take more risks right now.”

As if he had taken any risk himself, he thought sarcastically. The Duke smashed his fist down on the table in an unusual outburst, and he half got up.

“If he’s still alive, we’re not going to let him in the claws of those ruffians,” he thundered. “And if he’s dead, we’re not going to let him die in vain.”

Kroon stifled a sigh. The Duke was capable of committing the craziest things when he was in that knightly mood of his.

“Then, what do you suggest?” he murmured in a level voice.

Rowyn’s jaw clenched.

“I suggest freeing Dazbon from the slavers once and for all.”

“Oh. Yes. A wonderful idea,” Kroon approved mildly. “And what’s the plan? To fight to the death? To poison them by stealth? Or to beg them to go away and bring us back the corpse of our dearest barbarian?”

Bitterness tinged Kroon’s mild tone. Not surprisingly, the Duke resumed his seat, looking dispirited. Kroon noticed how Fayrah quickly wiped her misted eyes. He didn’t mean to discourage anybody, he told himself with a sigh. But things are the way they are, and of course they weren’t going to carry out any crazy plan now that the slavers were on a war footing… Kroon was about to open his mouth to inform the barbarians and the thief woman that they were free to go away, just when a distant clap of thunder rolled, loud, very loud.

A startled silence fell all over Dazbon.

“What happened?” Azune asked, standing up to draw near the window.

Kroon averted his eyes, letting out a grumble of protest when the daylight poured into the room. There was no storm. Hell, in theory, there were no claps of thunder if there was no storm, right? All rushed outwards, except Kroon, of course. And except Axef. The monk looked at the disintegrator through the slits of his eyelids.

“What do you laugh at, Axef?”

This one was filing his nails with dedication, a demoniac smile on his face.

“Why am I laughing, Kroon?” He interrupted his movements, and when he raised his eyes, these were glinting. “I don’t know. Are you sure I am laughing?”

“It’s the Bastion!” a voice exclaimed outside. “The big tower has just collapsed!”

Kroon frowned with a nasty feeling.

“What have you done, Axef?”

The disintegrator was not laughing. He was smiling, but not laughing. He responded calmly:

“Don’t worry, there was nobody inside. I have just destroyed the machine. My machine. I had to do it someday, don’t you think, Kroon?”

Kroon had not the slightest idea of what that madman was talking about. He knew that Axef had studied in the Bastion. He knew that something serious had happened there and that the celmist had been expelled for that reason. He had never heard of any machine.

“You’ve also destroyed the tower,” he whispered, flustered.

Axef nodded.

“Yes. Unless it was no tower but something much worst. If only the whole Bastion could blow up. But there are people inside. And I am not a murderer. Kroon,” he added after a silence. “Do you think he really sang?”

Kroon raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject.

“I…” He shrugged. “Does it actually matter, Axef? I don’t think he sang of his own free will.”

Axef shook his head with sadness.

“We all sing of our own free will. But you’re right: it doesn’t matter. What shall we do now?”

“I have a suggestion.” An unknown voice resounded next to the door, exactly where Kroon was taking care not to look at.

The Pearl Brother’s voices, outside, hollered.

“Hey! Who the hell do you think you are?” Azune burst out. “Get out of our house at once!”

Kroon heard someone clearing his throat as if amused, and he discerned the silhouette of a hooded man. At that very moment, he revealed his face.

“They call me Cobra, I’m with the Dream Brotherhood, and I come here to propose an accord and a reward.”

As he spoke, he had walked through the room, and he stopped a few steps away from Kroon, peering at him with a blatant gaze.

“May I?” he asked, at last, pointing to a bottle set on the table.

Kroon made a face.

“You may, damned thief.”

Cobra made a smiling grimace and grasped the bottle. He took a sip while the other ones were going back to their seats, looking wary. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and he patted Kroon on the shoulder.

“Thanks. We know each other, don’t we?”

Kroon’s eye was fastened on his face. Yes, he knew him by sight. He would have never been able to forget the day when the Order of Sifra had gotten their hands on the thief. At the time, Kroon was still serving as a dragon-monk in Dazbon, and he was punished for neglecting his duty when Cobra had managed to escape before the cohorts arrived to catch him. That was why he had been sent to the border, to fight the orcs. And that was why he had lost his legs.

Cobra grinned.

“You look better than the last time.”

Kroon mumbled.

“Get to the point. Why do you come over here, in an honest people’s house?”

Cobra shook his head and went to sit down too, at the opposite head of the table.

“Am I glad to see you, dear,” he said as he passed by Zaadma. This one had turned pale.

“Answer, you scoundrel,” Azune hissed.

But Cobra took his time. He smiled at each one, asked them to introduce themselves, behaved like a perfect gentleman, and then, when the nerves were about to burst, he stated:

“We are all honest people. Yes,” he added, looking at them again. “All of us without exception. And I think we’re going to come to an agreement very quickly. Your Supreme is with me.”

“You’ve captured her!” the Duke called out.

“Don’t be ridiculous. That woman is the one who’s captured all of us,” Cobra replied with a small smile. “And now, being serious, your Supreme had decided to ally herself to the Dream Brotherhood and to work together. Our objectives, after all, aren’t opposed.”

“Oh, really?” Azune replied with a skeptical grimace.

“Really. You fight slavery. I rob traffickers. Your Supreme will explain it to you much better than I could. She has talked to me about you all. I admire your dedication and your commitment. And I am willing to ally my Brotherhood to yours. I warn you: I am not an idealist. I fight for people’s happiness—not for their freedom.” He smiled. “I don’t demand you to think likewise, of course, but if we are going to work together against the slave trade, it’s necessary to understand each other. You want to find documents accusing the slavers in Dazbon. So be it. I will lend you a hand. But don’t rush. That kind of matter must be carried out calmly. If it turns out well, that’s fine. If not, you have to opt for another way. Unless you want to end up like the Philosopher, that Xalya friend of yours.”

The Duke choked.

“How do you know he’s dead?”

Cobra raised an eyebrow.

“I do not know. In fact, I can confirm the contrary. Well, at least, he was still alive last night when they have embarked them.”

For some seconds, his words were meaningless to all of them.

“Embarked?” the Shalussi barbarian echoed, at last, squeezing his hat nervously.

Cobra grinned, not looking affected at all.

“Yes, embarked, that’s what I said. The ship with the slaves has cast off in the direction of Titiaka. I bet it’s the first time in all history that twenty-three Xalyas go to sea.”

Kroon opened his mouth and then closed it. He shrugged. So the barbarian had cheated death. Smart boy. Before anyone could really react, Cobra rose and announced:

“Now, my friends, hurry up and evacuate this place. The slavers have discovered your refuge, and in this case, I think that what betrayed you all wasn’t precisely the Xalya but rather your lack of precautions.”

Some of them got up quite hastily. Kroon let out a curse. Three days had already passed since the attack against the headquarters, and as they had not detected any espionage around the Refuge, they had finally returned to this one… Perhaps a bit too early, Kroon had to admit it. But, hell, it was his house, after all…

“Hold on a minute,” Azune intervened. “Are you proposing that we work with a gang of thieves?”

Rubbing his cheek, Cobra smiled.

“Yes, indeed. Any objection?”