《Murder Hobo Society》PROLOGUE: PART II
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Tyboloth glared at the two men. They were a ways down the road, and not moving toward him, but still, they were staring at him. Which meant they were looking for him. The only time anyone saw Tyboloth, when he didn’t want to be seen, was if they were looking for him. Well, they would have to wait. Probably for a while. A few minutes later he turned his head slowly towards them again. They were still there. Still staring. Patient, he’d give them that.
The sound of wheels reached his ears. He took a deep breath, very slowly. It was almost time. The cart was moving slowly along the road to Caliphas. This wasn’t the main road, of course, that one was far too busy. This was one of the many side roads the merchants used to get their goods into the city. Only those with the proper permits would be allowed through the side entrance, nearly a mile away. This cart was leaving the city. Empty.
Preparing himself, Tyboloth started counting. The timing would have to be just right. He began to let go of the branch he was holding onto, one finger at a time. Slowly. Just as the cart was rolling across the ground below him, the last finger released and he fell into the back of the cart. Whoever those men were, they were too late now. By this time tomorrow, he’d be miles away from Caliphas.
Ah, yes, this was the only way to travel. A bit bumpy, but still, it was fast. The bumping stopped. Tyboloth found himself flying through the air, watching the empty cart roll away below him. What was happening?! Turning his head slowly, he found that he was in the grip of one of the two men that had been watching him. The big one had just reached into the cart and plucked him right out. All of his planning, ruined.
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“Baaah. What. Do. You. Want?” Tyboloth asked, slowly. He was fuming.
“Ah, the master thief himself. Trying to get out of town, were you?” It was the little one, with the rather glamorous feathered cap. Tyboloth wondered what he would look like wearing such a nice piece of paraphernalia.
“Thief?” His eyes went wide and he glanced left, then right. “Where?”
“Now, now, no need to worry, friend. I see that you are anxious to leave the city, and I’m here to offer you just that opportunity.” The little man was grinning. He hadn’t stopped grinning from the moment Tyboloth first saw him.
“I’m listening.” What choice did he have? The brute still had him dangling in the air.
“I am a person who has been commissioned by The Society to assist in the recovery of certain objects of interest to a very influential and wealthy benefactor. We have need of someone of your particular talents to assist us.”
“What’s the pay?”
“A guarded trip away from the city for starters, with an even share of all the loot we procure throughout our endeavor.”
“Loot?”
The grin managed to get more, well, oily. “The first object we’re after has been lost within some old ruins which have just recently been discovered.” Tyboloth avoided the obvious question as to how someone could lose something within old ruins only recently discovered. If they were hiring him, this wasn’t a simple retrieval errand.
“Deal,” he said, holding out three long claws, which the man gripped and shook without a second thought.
“The names Kendrik. The man who assisted your exit from the wagon is Grimrod.”
“Nice meet you,” said the big man, loudly.
“Tyboloth. But you know that.” The grinning man nodded. “Well, call me Tybol.”
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“Come along then Tybol!” Kendrik reached up and took hold of him, placing him on the ground. The trio started their trek down the dusty road. It was only a few seconds before Kendrik turned around and glanced back at Tyboloth. “Would you, ah, like a ride?”
“Yes. Please.” Kendrik gave Grimrod a look, and the big man grunted, rolling his eyes.
“You not pay me to be donkey.”
“Come on, Grim! We’re all in this together. We’ve all got to pull our weight, and you weigh the most.” The wink that accompanied his grin just made the big man groan and roll his eyes again, but then he sighed and reached down. He picked up Tyboloth and placed him on his shoulders, like a backpack.
It was no horse-drawn cart, but for a weresloth like Tyboloth, it was the next best thing.
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