Red Heir - Lisa Henry Page 0,24
him. It had a certain ring to it, and he suspected that even if they did make it back to Callier safely, Scott would be immortalised in song for all the wrong reasons. The thought of it made his petty heart sing with glee. Really, it served the little turd right for trying to sell him out.
They did still need a map to make it out safely though, so he turned his attention back to Benji. “Is there a safe passage out of here? We’re heading for the capital.”
“I don’t have any maps,” Benji said, “but I know the swamp. I can take you back to the Delacourt road, or I can lead you through to the other side, which puts you on the Torlere road.”
“Torlere?” Grub asked, his eyes widening. “I can find the way to Callier from there, at least I think I can. And there are plenty of villages along that road.”
“Well, aren’t you just a handy little homing pigeon?” Loth asked. “For me, at least. And where is your home, Grub?”
“Near Callier,” Grub said, without even hesitating.
“How very vague of you,” Loth murmured.
Grub just quirked his mouth in a grin and shrugged his skinny shoulders.
“You people are stupid,” Benji announced. “Why would you want to go to Callier anyway? It’s full of people. I hate people.”
“It’s part of the quest,” Calarian said, and chewed on some kind of anaemic-looking carrot.
“A—a noble quest!” Scott piped up. “The most noble quest! We are going to restore the lost Prince Tarquin to the throne, as the rightful ruler of Aguillon!”
“All kings are tyrants,” Benji said, and Calarian fist-bumped him.
“Yes, but Lord Doom is more of a tyrant!” Scott exclaimed.
“Well, that’s true,” Benji said thoughtfully.
Scott’s face lit up. “You should join us! With the Monster of the Swamp of Death at our side, we would be invincible!”
“No,” said Benji. “That’s actually very offensive. Also, fuck off.”
“But—but I can pay you!” Scott scurried closer, bringing a whiff of swamp mud with him. “Well, I can’t pay you, but Ser Factor can!”
Loth couldn’t help but be curious about Scott’s mysterious patron. “Scott, I think it’s about time you told me exactly who’s behind this rescue mission.”
Grub, surprisingly, nodded in agreement. “Who wants the prince freed and why?”
Scott gave a helpless shrug. “All I know is, I was at the tavern one night, telling my friends how I was sure I could be a hero if I could just find a quest. A man came up to me and told me to meet him in the woods the next night. When I got there, he gave me a letter from Ser Factor.” Scott fished down the front of his doublet and drew out a grubby slip of parchment.
Loth took it without asking and scanned it quickly. It was, indeed, a proposition for Scott to assemble a band of rescuers and extract the prince from the prison at Delacourt. There was a promise of payment and a list of towns along the Delacourt road where he could replenish supplies and report his progress. Loth squinted at the elaborate signature, and Scott poked at it over his shoulder. “See? Ser Factor. Beany Factor, right there. Maybe he’s one of the new nobles that Lord Doom knighted?”
Loth blinked, reading the elaborate, looping signature again, and struggled to keep his voice even, stifling his laughter. “That’s not a name Scott. It appears you have a benefactor.”
Scott stiffened. “How did you know about that?” he demanded.
“It’s written on the paper, right here. Bene-fac-tor.” Loth sounded it out as one might for a child. “A benefactor is someone who gives money to help a cause, Scott. What did you think it was?”
Scott blushed. “I always thought that was the thing where you have one undescended testicle. And anyway, my mother took me to the healer, and she said it’s normal, and the other one should catch up eventually.”
Grub let out a snort. Loth caught his eye and was surprised to find a smile, brighter than any he’d seen before. It was a far better look than Grub’s usual constant scowl.
“Ignoring your genital abnormalities for just the moment, Scott, this person funding the operation, have you ever met him?” Loth asked, suddenly uneasy. Maybe the prince was in more danger than he first thought.
At that thought, he shook himself mentally. There was no prince. Lord Doom claimed that his nephew was somewhere in safekeeping until he reached his majority, but nobody really believed it. The hidden prince was a fairy