the mirror. The image in the frame rotated to the right, in the direction they had last seen Vambran as he ran. He was already a mere speck on the seascape by that point, and Bartimus had to shift the frame of reference rapidly in order to bring the mercenary into full view again.
Vambran was just stumbling onto the sandy shore of the coastline when Bartimus’s magical scrying re-centered on him.
“Where is that?” Grozier muttered. Bartimus wasn’t sure whether his employer meant that to be answered or not, but he peered at the stretch of coastline closely to see if he could determine the location more precisely. All that he could make out was a long strip of sandy beach backed by an endless stretch of trees.
“That’s the Nunwood, near Hlath,” Falagh said, pointing at the trees. “That’s where my associates were instructed to attack. It’s not a terribly welcoming
stretch of coast, something of a no-man’s-land between Reth and Hlath. All the endless skirmishing that goes on between all the mercenary companies earning their coin, you know. There’s little there but a few villages and lone cottages, most of them long abandoned. Oh, and lots of beasts feeding on the dead. We picked that spot because it was unlikely that anyone else would see the attack.” The man shifted to look over Bartimus’s head more directly at Grozier. “No witnesses that way.”
“Ah,” Grozier said as he began to count the number of figures in the image on the shore. “Well, there are certainly plenty of folks there now who saw the whole thing,” he said sardonically. “So I guess we have some witnesses after all.”
“Now, look,” Falagh said, squaring himself and folding his arms across his chest. “You asked me to set up an ambush, to sink a ship. Based on what you and that pregnant priest told me, nine ships and a summoned kraken should have been more than enough. But since you never revealed that Matrell and his men would be so well prepared for such an eventuality, it wasn’t, and that’s just coin wasted. I do not like wasting coin.”
“They’re mercenaries! What did you expect?” Grozier answered, shifting around to stare back at his guest. “I would have thought someone as clever as yourself, with all of your experience controlling trade on the high seas, might have considered such a possibility. But I suppose that was too much to hope for.”
Bartimus wanted very desperately right then to scoot his chair back from between the verbally sparring men and get out of their way, but he saw no easy method of extracting himself without drawing even more attention down upon his own head. Grozier was just as likely to demand that he summon
a spell and send it at Falagh as to allow the wizard to excuse himself.
Why can’t they go argue somewhere else? he wondered. He glanced over at where Junce still sat, his booted feet stretched out in front of him, one heel balanced atop the other toe, and nervously eyed the sheets scattered about the man’s legs.
I’d like to finish that treatise before it gets ruined.
“Gentlemen, please,” Junce said, rising to his feet once more. “The deed is done, and there’s nothing for it but to move forward.” He stepped over so he was between the two men, right behind Bartimus’s chair, and clapped each of them on the shoulder. “The important thing is that neither Vambran Matrell nor Kovrim Lazelle is in a position to interfere with your business operations for a while. With them both out of the way, you can move forward with your schemes unhindered. And Lavant shall not be pestered with any more ridiculous meddling within the temple.”
The assassin’s words seemed to placate the two men, for they both turned back toward the mirror and stopped glaring at one another.
“I suppose we could arrange for further trouble for them,” Grozier offered as he continued to watch the scene before him. “If they are on the edge of the Nunwood, they aren’t too far from part
Vambran was just stumbling onto the sandy shore of the coastline when Bartimus’s magical scrying re-centered on him.
“Where is that?” Grozier muttered. Bartimus wasn’t sure whether his employer meant that to be answered or not, but he peered at the stretch of coastline closely to see if he could determine the location more precisely. All that he could make out was a long strip of sandy beach backed by an endless stretch of trees.
“That’s the Nunwood, near Hlath,” Falagh said, pointing at the trees. “That’s where my associates were instructed to attack. It’s not a terribly welcoming
stretch of coast, something of a no-man’s-land between Reth and Hlath. All the endless skirmishing that goes on between all the mercenary companies earning their coin, you know. There’s little there but a few villages and lone cottages, most of them long abandoned. Oh, and lots of beasts feeding on the dead. We picked that spot because it was unlikely that anyone else would see the attack.” The man shifted to look over Bartimus’s head more directly at Grozier. “No witnesses that way.”
“Ah,” Grozier said as he began to count the number of figures in the image on the shore. “Well, there are certainly plenty of folks there now who saw the whole thing,” he said sardonically. “So I guess we have some witnesses after all.”
“Now, look,” Falagh said, squaring himself and folding his arms across his chest. “You asked me to set up an ambush, to sink a ship. Based on what you and that pregnant priest told me, nine ships and a summoned kraken should have been more than enough. But since you never revealed that Matrell and his men would be so well prepared for such an eventuality, it wasn’t, and that’s just coin wasted. I do not like wasting coin.”
“They’re mercenaries! What did you expect?” Grozier answered, shifting around to stare back at his guest. “I would have thought someone as clever as yourself, with all of your experience controlling trade on the high seas, might have considered such a possibility. But I suppose that was too much to hope for.”
Bartimus wanted very desperately right then to scoot his chair back from between the verbally sparring men and get out of their way, but he saw no easy method of extracting himself without drawing even more attention down upon his own head. Grozier was just as likely to demand that he summon
a spell and send it at Falagh as to allow the wizard to excuse himself.
Why can’t they go argue somewhere else? he wondered. He glanced over at where Junce still sat, his booted feet stretched out in front of him, one heel balanced atop the other toe, and nervously eyed the sheets scattered about the man’s legs.
I’d like to finish that treatise before it gets ruined.
“Gentlemen, please,” Junce said, rising to his feet once more. “The deed is done, and there’s nothing for it but to move forward.” He stepped over so he was between the two men, right behind Bartimus’s chair, and clapped each of them on the shoulder. “The important thing is that neither Vambran Matrell nor Kovrim Lazelle is in a position to interfere with your business operations for a while. With them both out of the way, you can move forward with your schemes unhindered. And Lavant shall not be pestered with any more ridiculous meddling within the temple.”
The assassin’s words seemed to placate the two men, for they both turned back toward the mirror and stopped glaring at one another.
“I suppose we could arrange for further trouble for them,” Grozier offered as he continued to watch the scene before him. “If they are on the edge of the Nunwood, they aren’t too far from part
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