What you do anyway? Mercenary?”
“Soldier,” he said.
“You sworn to one of the Warlords then?”
“You always ask so many questions?”
“Only when I like the look of a man… or I think he’s wealthy.”
“Which is it in my case?”
“A little of both.”
It was his turn to laugh. “You’re honest at least.”
“You still want to find Ana?”
He nodded.
“Then here we are.” They had paused outside a three story caravansary inn. The sign of some long sort of blue-scaled dragon hung over the doorway.
“The Blue Wyvern,” the girl said. “Ana always goes here when she has some money. Scar the Orc deals her glitterdust and other things. I saw her head this way earlier. She looked a little dazed so I guessed she was coming down and looking to score again.” She held her hand out. “Well, it’s been sweet,” she said. “Pay up and I’ll be heading along.”
“I still haven’t found Ana yet. Wait here and I’ll go in. When I come back out, you’ll get paid.”
“Oh yeah, sure I will. Maybe you would like to sell me the Pale Wizard’s Tower while you are at it.”
“You don’t get paid until I find Ana.”
“Then I am coming in with you.”
“That might not be the wisest thing.” She tilted her head to one side.
“Like that is it? You going to give her trouble, big man?”
“She inside or not?”
“I’m going in. You owe me another coin.”
Kormak shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“What’s your name, big man? In case, I need to find you again?”
“Kormak. What’s yours?”
“Nuala.”
They walked up the stairs and through the swing doors of the tavern. The bouncers looked at Kormak but did not say anything. They looked harder at the girl. It seemed as if one of them recognised her and was about to say something.
“She’s with me and I have gold,” said Kormak. He slipped the man a coin.
“The customer is always right,” said the bouncer. They went inside.
“You go into these places a lot?” Nuala asked.
“I’ve been in a few.”
“I could tell.” Kormak strode up to the bar and put a coin on the counter-top. “Beer for me and whatever my friend here is having. And have one yourself,” he said.
The barman poured two drinks and put a coin in the goblet on the stand behind him. “For later,” he said. “The boss does not like it if we drink on the job.”
“Understandable,” Kormak said. “Ana come in?”
“Ana who?”
Kormak tapped another silver coin on the counter-top. “Tall girl, red hair likes glitterdust, knows Scar. Would you like me to draw you a picture?”
The barman looked over at the bouncers. There were two more by the door.
“I’m not looking for trouble,” Kormak said. “I need to find her fast though.”
He put the coin on the counter-top and placed another beside it, setting it spinning with a flick of his thumb.
“You a friend of hers?”
“A special friend. A client.”
The barman trapped the coin with his hand. “She went upstairs to see Scar. She looked a bit stunned.”
“He’ll give her something to perk her up, no doubt,” Kormak said.
“No doubt.”
Kormak put another coin on the bar, finished his drink and said, “Maybe he’ll give me the same.”
The barman gave him a professional smile. “You can but ask,” he said. His gaze went to the first floor balcony. An orc was coming out. With him was good-looking, blowsily dressed red-head. She looked down and pointed at Kormak and shrieked. “That’s him, Scar. That’s the bastard who said he’d cut my throat.”
The orc followed her pointing finger. Kormak cursed and began walking towards the stair. Two bouncers moved to block his way.
“You don’t want to do that,” he said.
“No choice, pal,” said the biggest of the two. “You don’t pay our wages. Scar does and she’s a client of his.”
He smiled as he spoke but before he finished the sentence a blow was on its way towards Kormak’s head. Something glittered on the man’s fist. Metal knuckle-dusters, Kormak assumed. He stepped to one side and inside the man’s guard and dropped the man with a punch. His twisted and his elbow buried itself in the second bouncer’s stomach. The man fell retching. Kormak took the stairs two at a time. The red-head kept screaming. “Stop him. He’ll kill me!”
The rest of the bouncers and the clients rushed at Kormak. The orc drew two black steel scimitars. It was not a good sign. Such weapons were the mark of an orcish blademaster. Forged in the blood furnaces of the shaman smith’s they would resist even