The shopkeeper was giving H'tor a tour of the enormous warehouse and the
pair of them were on the third floor discussing the inflated prices of
the southern regions fine wine when H'tor glanced out a window, paused,
then took a long hard look before sighing and shaking his head.

"Is something the matter Dragonrider?" the merchant asked.

"Only that my skills seem to have left me in my old age," H'tor said as
he stepped away from the window and started for the stairs. As he walked
he withdrew a sheaf of papers from beneath his shirt and handed them to
the elderly merchant.

"Here are my updated instructions," he said. "I had hoped to go over
them in detail but there isn't time." As they started down the stairs he
continued. "The first of my people will arrive within the next few days,
I assume you can find places for them until we can get properly
organized?"

"Of course," the merchant said confidently. "I take it you still don't
want any further contacts made here? My people are prepared to receive
yours at the addresses I wrote you about."

"That will be fine, that's where they're going. Is there a inn or pub
where you and I could meet in the future? I don't know how but next time
I'll try to be more discreet."

"I own three places that would suit our needs," the merchant said
chuckling. "The one my third daughter runs would be the most appropriate
I think, lots of customers and lots of privacy."

"Is that the Golden Roll? Excellent," H'tor said. "Now, I realize that
my tardiness has kept you at your storefront the last few days rather
than where you belong in your office, the docks and the warehouse
floor...but can you serve a customer one last time? I need a couple of
things."

"Of course Dragonrider," the merchant said as they reached the main
floor. "I rather enjoyed trading places with my youngest these last few
days. It was relaxing to serve one customer at a time rather than to
manage a hundred or so warehousers and dockworkers."

"That's probably as close as people like us get to a vacation," H'tor
said with a smile so faint that only Naomi or Haroc would have seen it.
"Here's what I need..."

The merchant wasn't gone for more than a minute before returning with
the two items wrapped in brown paper.

"Are you sure you don't have time?" the merchant said hopefully.
"There's so much I wanted to discuss. I managed to secure an estate for
the amount you allowed only with three thousand extra acres of grazing
land. You'll be leasing it from a local fop who's only interest in it is
the income it provides. It will serve your needs perfectly."

"I can see why you came so highly recommended sir," H'tor said softly,
his mind working. "That should push our plans forward by three months.
Everything else is in order?"

"Everything," the merchant said.

"Good, there's one thing that I didn't write down. Try to secure us at
least a dozen of those new flamethrowers I've heard so much about, as
well as the appropriate personnel to train our people."

The merchant whistled. "That will be very expensive," he said seriously.

"Tithe our general fund," H'tor said. "If that's not enough, tithe my
personal account." Seeing the merchant's eyes go wide at this last
statement, H'tor had to ask, "I assume our money arrived?"

"Of course," the merchant said. "I was just amazed at how much you were
willing to spend, Dragonrider. I know you distribute large amounts of
your 'general fund' to your people on a regular basis and I doubt I will
not need more than a thirtieth of what remains. However, I wonder at the
amount you mention in your personal accounts. You are aware of how much
is there aren't you?"

"Joesph tells me on a regular basis but I always forget," H'tor said.
"After all...it's the getting, not the having."

The merchant chuckled and nodded appreciatively. Together they entered
the shop from the same door they'd left it. H'tor took his packages and
started towards the door before stopping in mid-stride.

"One last thing," he said as he pivoted and set his foot down on the
floorboards. "I assume you have agents in Lord Harkon's court?"

"Of course I do," the older man replied. "Though I don't know why I
bother, the man's household leaks like a net. I could probably get all I
needed by sending one of my grandsons down to the marketplace to listen
to the gossip for ten minutes."

"Is there any profit to be made in foreknowledge for the house's state
of affairs?"

"There is profit in everything."

"How true," H'tor said. "Well if you can profit from it discreetly, let
me tell you of the trouble between Lord Harkon and his new bride..."

When he finished he turned and left.

====>> S'ran <<====

S'ran watched the door of the shop and as much of the enormous warehouse
as he could. H'tor had been inside for at least fifteen minutes and
S'ran was beginning to get worried. He could see that the warehouse was
flush up against the river which meant H'tor could leave by a small boat
or barge any time he liked. Further, S'ran imagined there were at least
a half a dozen exits that he couldn't see.

"Well," he said to himself. "Nobody likes him anyway. Maybe there's a
patrol or three in the area. Once I explain who it is I'm trying to keep
an eye on I'm sure they'll want to be in on the track."

He was just about to have his waiting dragon make the call when H'tor
emerged from the front of the shop.

S'ran sunk into the shadows of the alleyway, preparing to take up the
track again. H'tor paused outside the doorway of the shop, apparently
getting his bearings or perhaps just appreciating the crisp air on the
cool and clear day.

When H'tor finally moved he headed straight towards S'ran's alley.

"Hello S'ran," H'tor said. He wore a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You are an extraordinary tracker sir. It must be that telepathy that
runs in your family. You're wearing a sword and the insignia of the
Warren and after an hour of wandering about quite neighborhoods and
bustling marketplaces I couldn't spot you. Do you hunt?"

"Unlike some people I don't have to kill something to feel good about
myself," S'ran said, stepping from the alleyway. "I'm just better than
you H'tor."

"How very wounding," H'tor said, still smiling. "None-the-less,
shouldn't you be putting your amazing powers to locating the missing
Greta? I haven't seen her in Whitbarrow."

"What were you doing in that shop, murderer?"

"Well since you ask so nicely I'll tell you," H'tor said. He tore the
brown paper from one of his packages, revealing a bottle of wine.

"Would you believe that a friend in Keldarra told me that they have one
of the best cellars in the north?" H'tor asked, showing the S'ran the
label. "I went in there and asked them for one of their best bottles. It
took them forever to bring up an old, dusty thing with cobwebs on it.
Now between you and me I was getting this for a very special person and
couldn't believe they'd try to pawn their old stuff on me...so I sent it
back and made them get me this fresh bottle."

He moved a little closer so S'ran could get a better look at the label.
S'ran took a step back and his hand slipped to just above his sword.

"See?" H'tor asked, apparently oblivious to S'ran's move. "It's less
than a year old...should be great!" He was looking at the bottle,
admiring the ugly, ugly label. Then a thought seemed to stike him and he
smiled craftily.

"Say S'ran," H'tor said. "Couldja do me a big favor? I'm probably gonna
drop this thing if I run with it all the way back to where Haroc's
catching fish. Could you carry it back to the Warren?" He offered it to
S'ran, who didn't move a muscle. "Well, I'll just leave it here then,"
he said, setting it down on the ground. "I wouldn't want you to let your
guard down. You can pick it up when I've gone and you're safe. I really
appreciate it S'ran, you don't know how important it is that this gets
back to the Warren safely."

"Tell me H'tor," S'ran said coldly. "Where's Greta?"

"Probably dead," H'tor said casually, examining S'ran's swordhand
abstractly. "Given the collapsing situation, the lost operatives and the
exposed ringleader, I'd do the logical thing: have her killed and
disappear. More than likely I'd kill her myself, just to make sure it
was done right."

S'ran growled and his hand fell to his sword. A few inches of the steel
had cleared the scabbard when he saw H'tor hadn't moved.

"Are you sure, S'ran?" H'tor said. S'ran could see a strange eagerness
in his eyes, almost a need. "Because if you're sure...I think you ought
to do it. Right here and right now with all these witnesses watching. It
wouldn't look too good huh? The well-armed and armored Dragonrider
striking down an unarmed Landbound on a busy street. Me personally I'd
guess they'd just string you up in the marketplace, give the locals an
afternoon show..."

"But if you're sure S'ran, it'll be worth it won't it? Because if you're
sure, then by killing me you'll save Greta!" He paused briefly, "Oops,
waitaminute, Greta isn't here, and you don't know where she is. Well,
maybe Greta's not that important anyway is she? Maybe it's just
important that you kill me huh? Probably so...and as for the Landbound,
well the hell with 'em...after all you can call in Jasper and if the mob
tries to string you up you'll flame 'em. That'll teach 'em...then it's
hey-ho back to the Warren you go...where you can have Naomi all to
yourself again, just like it was before I showed up right?"

S'ran released his sword, glaring at the H'tor with burning hatred. "You
damned murdering bastard," S'ran said softly. "If you hurt her in any
way, if you hurt her feelings, if you bruise her pride, dammit if you
make her cry...I'm going to kill you H'tor. Until then I'm going to
spend every waking minute working on proving you had something to do
with Greta's kidnapping and L'gan's killing, and when I find what I
need, I'll be the one who swings the headsmen's axe."

"Sounds fair," H'tor said. He turned and walked away. "Don't forget the
wine eh? Mighty important."

S'ran's boot lashed out and shattered the bottle, scattering shards of
glass across the road...

***************

Dark angels follow me
Over a godless sea
Mountains of endless falling,
For all my days remaining

  -- Why Should I Cry For You (Sting -- The Soul Cages)

Submitted by Abe Barker < H'tor and Haroc >