I saw you, I was a boy. The next time I was a man, and you were no older. Now we are both old men.”
Erlin’s face clouded and he took several more sips of his tea before replying. “The blessings of Heaven were taken from me. I find I don’t miss them.” He smiled, straightening into a businesslike posture. “But I won’t trouble you with a long tale of woe, Honoured Pao, for I recall you were always a man of commerce above all. Lord Vaelin, his companions and I require passage to the High Temple. And we do not wish to trouble the Merchant King with the burden of our company. Lord Vaelin commands riches, as you so sagely note. You will be richly rewarded.”
“The High Temple,” Pao Len repeated. “So you wish to make another pilgrimage to the Jade Princess. Why? Do you imagine she will restore your blessing?”
“No, old friend. I am not so naive. Though, I must confess, I would sorely like to hear her song once more before I fade from this world.”
“Then why?”
“Is it necessary for you to know our reasons?” Vaelin asked. “We require your services and are willing to pay for them. Our purpose is our own.”
He saw Erlin’s face twitch in warning, although Pao Len betrayed no particular offence. “Necessary?” he asked, his tone mild. “No. But certainly desirable, advantageous. All knowledge brings advantage. It is through knowledge that the Crimson Band prospers. For example, we know to within an ounce the weight of gold mined in the Northern Reaches over the course of the last five years. We know that you rule there but fail to enrich yourself in the process. We know that you were once a warrior monk in service to a religion that worships the dead and that you spent five years in an Alpiran dungeon for killing the heir to their emperor’s throne. We know that you were your queen’s general during a war that made her conqueror of the Volarian Empire. And we know she spends the gold you mine from your domain to rebuild the lands she has conquered and grow armies to conquer more. Now you are here.”
“My business in these lands is personal,” Vaelin told him. “In fact I am here without my queen’s knowledge or permission. Under the laws of the Unified Realm this makes me an outlaw, and I will face an accounting when I return.”
“You risk so much for the merely personal. Strange for one so mired in sentiment to rise so high, or is it all due to your skill in battle?” Pao Len angled his head as he studied Vaelin closer still, his eyes seeming to gleam with scrutiny. “Mostly, perhaps. But not all. There is more to you than just the killer. Your presence here is a disturbance, another grain to tip the scales and upset the balance that keeps the Far West in harmony. But the Crimson Band has never prospered through harmony. The Harbingers of Heaven are abroad, it is said. Portents and rumours abound, and word comes to us of a great battle on the Iron Steppe. War is coming and the scales will soon tumble, and when they do the Crimson Band will harvest its reward from the chaos that follows. It has always been so. From the earliest days of the Emerald Empire to the rise of the Merchant Kings.”
He lifted his cup and drank, draining the contents in a few gulps. “So,” he said, setting it down and pouring more tea. “I will agree to facilitate your journey to the High Temple. But the price will be high.”
“I have gold,” Vaelin said, reaching for the purse on his belt. “If more is needed it can be sent for . . .”
“I do not require your gold. I require your word.”
“My word?”
“Yes. Your word is true, is it not?”
“I’ve never broken it, if that’s your meaning.”
“Good. Therefore, Vaelin Al Sorna, Tower Lord of the Northern Reaches, I require your word that when the Crimson Band next asks you for a service, you will provide it. You will make no argument. You will hold no scruple. You will simply do what is asked of you. Whatever is asked of you.”
He lifted his teacup to his lips once more, holding Vaelin’s gaze as he drank.
“Lord Vaelin has access to many treasures,” Erlin said. “Not just gold. Bluestone, fine gifts garnered from all corners of the world . . .”