2 Defiler of Tombs by William King Page B

muscles of men. It had that alien look he had seen before in structures built by the Old Ones and it had a brooding presence that made him deeply uneasy.
    The Old Ones usually shunned the haunts of men, and in his experience those that did not were rarely up to any good. He halted for a moment to consider the view as the others rode by.
    Brandon reined his warhorse to stop beside Kormak. “It’s not the most prepossessing place, is it?”
    Kormak shook his head. “At least we’ll have a roof over our heads tonight. The first for a couple of days.”
    “Has Lucas been making your hair stand on end with tales of what the occupants of that castle are capable of,” Brandon said.
    “Yes.”
    “He did the same for me when I asked him. You think they really can rip a man’s hearts out with their bare hands?”
    “I’ve known Old Ones who could do a lot worse.”
    “Let’s hope they are not visiting their kinfolk down there then.”
    Brandon tugged the reins and the big warhorse moved on. Kormak followed him down the slope and into Elderdale. He was going to have to pay that Keep a visit.
     
     
    The chill wind could not take away the stink of the sewer trenches. There were plenty of people about in the muddy streets. Hungry eyed men watched them pass. One or two shouted a greeting to Lucas that he returned with a wave of his hand. They looked only slightly less likely to put a knife in his back than the others, and Kormak guessed that counted for friendship in this place.
    A few shopkeepers shouted to the Tinkers from their storefronts, asking what they had brought, seeking news from the south. Javier answered amiably. Aisha kept out of sight. Not a few people studied the wolf trotting behind the wagon uneasily.
    Kormak studied the buildings as they passed. Most of them were made from rocks piled on rock in the old drystane fashion. The gaps in the stonework were padded with mud or grass. Some of the roofs were turf. Most of the buildings had little verandahs or causeways made of stone outside them. It was an oddly civilised touch. Folks clearly wanted some sort of barrier between their homes and businesses and the mud in the street.
    They passed a house on whose verandah a group of scantily clad women lounged. They waved at Kormak and Brandon and greeted Lucas by name. He smiled back at them and said he might be over that evening. They told him to bring his friends.
    Eventually, they drew up in front of a large stone building with a clear view of the Keep. Two beautiful inhuman figures were painted on its sign, smiling benevolently down at the viewer. Two less beautiful and much harder looking men with clubs stood by the door. They too greeted Lucas by name and ushered him into the shadowy interior.
    Inside the air smelled of cheap liquor and tobacco and dreamdust. A very dark-skinned man stood behind the bar, chatting with a man big enough to make Brandon or Kormak look small. At first glance he seemed more ogre than human, and when he turned to stare at them, the impression was reinforced. He had only one eye. The other had been scooped out. His face was scarred and his nose was broken and his ears had been cropped. He raised a hand that might have enclosed Kormak’s head in greeting. Lucas responded with no great enthusiasm.
    “What can I get you gentlemen?” the dark man asked.
    “We’d like meal, Shade, and rooms for the night,” said Lucas.
    “Separate or altogether?”
    “Me and these two men will sleep together. The Tinkers will have their own room. The wagon will be parked in the courtyard.”
    “Just like usual,” said Shade. “Take the rooms at the top of the stair. You can stow your gear there. No one will trouble you. And the grooms will look after your horses.”
    “Your grooms know anything about warhorses?” Brandon asked.
    “Don’t reckon they do,” Shade replied. “You want to see to it yourself.”
    “Might be best. Might be best if he’s kept apart from the other horses as