Massoud returned to the Olieant Pub, not expecting any of his belongings to still be there after the past couple of weeks. When he approached the tavern owner the man smiled and nodded.
“You are back for your things?”
Handing the owner another gold coin in addition to the first he had been paid, Massoud replied, “No, I simply need a few items. Has there been a messenger?”
“Yes, he is in his room. I will send someone to fetch him while you get what you need.”
Massoud went to the storage room, pulling out the key for the lock. He knew the lock, or the door itself for that matter, would not stop someone determined enough to gain entrance. But it did keep out the petty thieves. He pulled out a travel-worn canvas pack, grabbing two objects and pocketing them in a blur of motion. Locking up the room, Massoud came back out into the great room.
There at a table sat a royal border scout. Massoud crossed the room to sit with him.
“You’re late,” said the border scout with an edge.
Massoud studied the man. Like most border scouts he had the lean rangy look of the mountaineer, of the woodsman. Royal border scouts were part of the royal guard, making them the elite of an already select group of men. They were generally acknowledged as fiercesome fighters but that was not where their real skills lay. The man’s face was covered in stubble and road dust, even though he had undoubtedly possessed ample opportunity to wash and shave; part of the persona. That said, Massoud did admire the man for his hardness, it was neither affected nor covering some inner weakness. The scout spoke this way because he had other uses for his own time, not to intimidate.
“My apologies, Scree. It was not by choice.”
Scree grunted.
“So have you word of the pin?”
Scree looked at his hands for a moment. “My scouts were tracked and slaughtered by Shikoba. Two squads. Damn good men. Hard to replace.” Scree trailed off.
“Such skill lost, skill honed over many years of practice, is undoubtedly difficult to overcome,” agreed Massoud. They sat silent for a moment, Massoud knowing this was not the moment to press the man for information.
“Well at any rate,” Scree emerged from his thoughts, “the pin was lost. But the Shikoba did not take it. I tracked two men Northwards for a time before returning. Likely, Bishamon based on their sign.”
“That is unfortunate. I had hoped to retrieve the pin.” Actually I am glad in a way that I do not have to deal with it now. I am not sure I want the elementals as a factor in this plot, thought Massoud.
“I do not expect payment as I failed in my task.”
“I would not leave a man such as you empty-handed,” said Massoud, putting a small purse on the table between them.
Scree’s impassive face showed a glimmer of surprise. “I did not expect that.” After a pause he continued, “Otherwise I may have gone elsewhere than to the Zealot bitch to pass on the information about the Bishamon, the pin, and, of course, yourself.”
Massoud stood and whirled, just in time to catch a glimpse of Akane before a blunt object struck him in the face knocking him unconscious.
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