CHAPTER NINE

"This is Tosk," the gate guard said under the rain, "You've come too far north. You should have kept heading east."

Slim Rowon stared at the man, his eyes furious.

"I knew it. I should have listened to my instincts. Blinded by some farm woman."

"Where shall we go?" Davram asked.

"You've got maps in this town?" Slim Rowon asked the guard.

"Maps? Simon might know."

"Who's Simon?"

"He's the tavernkeep.

"Which tavern?"

"The One-Eyed Donkey."

Slim Rowon stared at the guard, eyes blazing with fury.

"And where is the tavern?"

"Down the street."

"On which side."

The guard had to think about it for some time. He lifted his right hand ever so slightly, then his left hand.

"The right side."

"Let us through."

"Right."

The guard got out of their way and they walked into the village of Tosk, the rain pouring and mud halfway up their legs. They walked down the street, looking at the right side. As they walked, they passed a man lying in the street and unconscious. Then they heard a loud cheer to their left.

It was the One-Eyed Donkey, the sign plainly on the left side of the street.

"Idiot," Slim Rowon mumbled and they entered the tavern.

The tavern was mostly empty. Three gamblers at a corner table, they the ones who had cheered. A man asleep at another table, face down in some kind of bowl. Slim Rowon and Davram went to a far table.

A man with a lazy eye came through a door.

"What'll you have?" the man asked.

"You Simon?" Slim Rowon asked in turn.

"I am. Who told you my name?"

"The dimwit guarding your gate."

"That's my son."

Slim Rowon stared at Simon for a moment.

"My apologies, sir," Slim Rowon finally said.

"It's fine. What will you be having."

"Do you have a map?"

"Maybe I do."

"I could use a map. We're travelling."

"I might let it go."

"Wondrous!"

"There's a price."

"Of course. There is always a price. What is your price?"

"The Crown of Histhtu the Blood Prince."

"We don't have that."

"I could tell you where it is."

"Where is it?"

"It is inside the main chamber of Harkon, the castle of the dead, also known as the Red Doom."

"Give us some ale and let us ponder this quest."

"Good."

Simon went back to the steamy kitchen.

"Should we go to the castle?" Davram asked.

"Sounds like a cheery place, this castle of the dead."

Simon came back with a pitcher of ale and two mugs, and some dried apple slices.

"Have you decided?" Simon asked.

"Not yet," Slim Rowon answered.

"Tell me when you have."

"I will."

Simon left them and they drank the strong ale. It had hints of cherry and walnut, and was cool to the throat. They edged to the fire and dried their toes.

One of the men at the gambling table turned and saw them.

"Fancy a game, traveller?" he shouted from across the room.

Slim Rowon looked over.

"Which game?"

"Zono."

Slim Rowon scratched his chin and turned to Davram.

"I am very skilled at zono. I may be able to multiply our fortune so that we may buy this map and not quest to some dark castle in the night and in the rain."

"Yes. That sounds much easier. You should play."

"I'm in," Slim Rowon said to the man and skipped over to the table, "I'll start off with a silver, gentlemen."

"A good bet from the start," one of the old gamblers croaked, "We got us a regular carp."

"Lad is a player," the other gambler wheezed and laughed.

Davram sat at the table, sipping the beer and singing the song of the sun, warming up.

A giant soldier trudged in from the rain and grabbed the man sleeping at his table. The solder dragged the man out, the bowl falling to the floor. Davram saw that it was a woman, not a man. He stood up and followed out.

Slim Rowon rolled seven fifteen sided dice. The men groaned as Slim Rowon won a fancy ring and a handful of copper coins. He moved his jade piece three steps and picked up the dice for another roll.

Outside, the soldier dragged the woman through the mud to a cart with bars. It was empty.

The woman's eyes slowly opened and she struggled. The soldier slammed his fist into her face several times until she was unconscious again. Davram watched this as he caught up.

"Stop," Davram said.

The soldier stopped. Davram stopped. The soldier turned. He looked down at Davram. He let go of the woman, who sunk into the mud.

"You should not hit her," Davram said.

The soldier punched Davram with all his might and Davram saw a flash of white and some kind of explosion in his head, then he was in the mud, unable to breath. He tried to stand up but he had no strength in his arms. He struggled, then finally slid up. The rain washed some of the mud from his face and he opened his eyes. The soldier stood before him, cold eyes looking into him.

Behind the soldier, the woman stood up and unsheathed the guard's dagger and stabbed him in the base of the neck from behind. Then she stabbed him in the kidney two times in quick succession.

Another soldier came running . The soldier pulled his sword and lunged at the woman. The woman ducked, then jumped up, planting the dagger in the soldier's armpit. She knocked him down, then took his sword and drove it down into his right eye with all her weight on the blade.

Slim Rowon came running out of the tavern. He came to Davram's side.

"What happened?" he asked Davram.

"The two men were trying to put her on the wagon. She killed them. Did you win?"

"No. I lost the silver and most of what I had, except for my flute and my sword."

The woman left the dagger and sword where they were and stood up empty handed. Water rolled down the bridge of her noise. Her eyes were a deep black.

She started walking towards Davram and Slim Rowon.

"I wouldn't try," Slim Rowon warned her, "I am the greatest sword of my la-"

"Shut the fuck up," the woman said to Slim Rowon.

"Your mouth is foul, woman."

"My name is Marasoldig Va'arant of the Rolling Hills. You are a stupid little bitch boy."

Slim Rowon drew his sword. She spat on the ground.

"You are less than nothing and have no cock," she said to him.

He swung the sword at her and she caught it in her mailed wrist. A quick jab to his throat. He dropped the sword and choked. His face became red. She picked up the sword and lazily laid the sharp edge on his shoulder.

"You are no man. You are weaker than a tiny baby."

"Please stop," Davram said, "Do not kill him."

Marasoldig looked at Slim Rowon, still trying to gasp for air, and turned and walked away. She took his sword with her, as well as the other weapons the soldiers held on to. He did not care. Finally, a small amount of air seemed to reach his lungs. His face returned to normal, his breathing slow and deep.

"Bitch," he said, his voice still raspy.

"She beat you."

He sat up. Davram helped him to his feet.

"Yes. She did."

"Do you know her?"

"No. But she is some sort of soldier, or assassin. Without a master. I've seen others like her. Drinking, gambling, fighting. They are no good."

"It is good that she left."

"Yes. But she took my sword."

"Should we go and get it back?"

Slim Rowon thought about it.

"Fuck the sword. It was cheap and ill-made."