The Wordsmiths and the Warguild by Hugh Cook

dressed as he pleased.
            The wedding was scheduled
to take place in the morning in the Suets' Grand Hall, a building which Togura
had never visited before. Arriving early in bright autumn sunshine - a good
omen, surely, as it had been unbroken rain for days previously - he found this
immense wooden building almost empty except for workmen who were finishing off
reinforcements to a section of the floor, and Suet women who were responsible
for catering.
            Togura walked through
the building, strutting a little in his fine new clothes, and admiring all the
good things to eat which had been provided in such profusion. Among other
things, there were marvellous cakes created in the image of the new coinage.
            The building echoed with
bright, happy voices. Louder, ominously hollow echoes came from underfoot as
people walked this way and that across the wooden floor. Togura walked across
one spot where queasy floorboards sagged beneath his weight; he cleared the
area quickly, then tapped the floor with his heel and toe, listening to the
echoes.
             "There's a mine shaft
underneath us," said a well-fleshed well-dressed elderly man.
            "It must be a big
one," said Togura.
            "One of the
biggest. It was Shaft Suet, the richest gemstock sounding in all of Keep. It
gave the family its start in life. By the time Shaft Suet was exhausted, the
family was rich. Anyway, enough history. You're Barak the Battleman, aren't
you?"
            "I am. And
you?"
            "Name's Raznak the
Golsh. I'm a Suet by birth and by breeding."
            They idled there for a
while, talking of nothing in particular - weddings, cakes, music, the weather.
But Togura sensed that Raznak the Golsh had a proposition for him. He was not
wrong. Soon Raznak began to speak his mind.
            "I hear you're soon
to set off on your quest."
            "Very soon.
Tomorrow, in fact."
            "What a pity. At
the moment, we've got an opening which would just suit a fierce young warrior
like yourself. We need a commander for the fighting force we're forming."
            "Honesty compels me
to tell you that I'm not the fighter I'm cracked up to be," said Togura.
"Besides, I'm too young. Few men would follow me."
            "We can use your
reputation," said Raznak. "You'd grow into the job. We've got people
who can help you find your feet. You'd be a regular sword-slaughterer in a few
short years."
            "I'm not the
type," said Togura, who had heard the rumours of civil war, and wanted
nothing to do with it. "I'll never have the fighting prowess."
            "Don't run yourself
down. I was lucky enough to see you kill the monster which you rode up out of
the mine pit. You've got what it takes, young man."
            "That was a
fluke."
            "Perhaps. But your
reputation's solid. So I'm making you an offer. Join us. Sung will soon be a
proper kingdom. Soon enough, we'll be the royal family. Skan Askander won't
last forever."
            And Raznak winked.
            "I've got my duty
to Day," said Togura.
            "You've been
offered a daughter Suet before," said Raznak. "The offer still
stands. It wasn't your fault that the little girl met her unfortunate end.
Don't go throwing your life away on an impossible quest. I met some of those
who went questing and were never seen again. Strong men. Brave men. Not a fool
amongst them. They were strong, determined, capable. But they vanished, one and
all."
            "All five of
them."
            "Five! The
Wordsmiths told you that? There's been fifty men go questing, if there's been
one."
            The revelation shook
Togura.
            "Tell me you'll
join us," said Raznak the Golsh.
            "I'll think about
it," said Togura.
            "You do that, young
man. You do that."
            And he most certainly
did, pondering