Spies and Their Games
neck and rolled his shoulders as he looked out the high tower window in Ventohl castle. He watched as riders approached, their horses ragged and sluggish. He smirked to himself.
“Chadwa,” he said to the witch who’d just entered the room. “Isn’t it funny how things can change so quickly?”
The witch said nothing. She strode to his side and looked out the window. Apparently satisfied that he’d seen the approaching riders, she didn’t feel the need to report it. It bothered Hazkul sometimes that the witch was so quiet. But then again, their group of assassins was called the Sons of Silence.
Maybe she takes that a little too literally, he thought with an amused grin.
“Geldrins riding from the west,” he said aloud. “Can only be coming from the Glinso Mining Camp.”
He narrowed his elven eyes and made out Commander Chol, himself.
“Oh,” he said with another smirk. “This should be good. Seems like our dear friend Commander Chol is visiting us.”
Chadwa pursed her lips. The witch didn’t like Chol. In fairness, Hazkul wasn’t terribly fond of geldrins himself. But as far as geldrins went, the commander had always been hospitable to them when they’d had to interact.
“Come, Chadwa,” Hazkul said, turning a roguish smile to the witch. “He’s not that bad. At least he’s better than that dog Jolan. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Hazkul shuddered at the thought of the man.
“The man has no personality,” the elf said. “Well, at least no personality besides grumpy, angry man.”
Chadwa’s eyebrow raised, and she stared at the elf.
“Oh, alright. I know you’re right. I am way more handsome and could kill him in seconds,” Hazkul waved her off, bashfully. “You do know how to butter me up. Come on. Let’s see what tidings our dear friend Commander Chol brings.”
It didn’t take Commander Chol long to vent his frustration at the situation. Hazkul Bern listened carefully, smirking occasionally at whatever slight or grievance the geldrin believed was his right to complain about. It struck Hazkul as comical that the commander would think he had any right to complain about his treatment by his former slaves.
Though Hazkul was the leader of an assassin organization, he did have moral lines he was unwilling to cross. One of those was slavery. Many of the members of the Sons of Silence were descendants of escaped slaves. Over the years, assassins had killed many of the slaving nobles and had essentially eradicated the practice in Kelvur. That is, until Jaernok Tur came out of the Crags.
“We have to storm the camp and retake the mine!” Chol spat as he refilled his wine.
“Oh, see,” Hazkul said with a shake of his head. “That’s where I think we misunderstand one another. You have always been hospitable to me when I’ve needed to pass through your neck of the woods, and I plan to return that courtesy. But we will not be ‘storming the camp’ to reclaim it. I have no purpose there.”
“But Jaernok Tur—” Chol began to argue.
“The sorcerer gave you responsibility for the camp. I have my own tasks.”
“But they killed all my geldrins,” the commander said, fuming. He itched at the scar on his face. Hazkul thought it funny how the geldrin resorted to that tick whenever he was overwhelmed.
“Then you will have to ask your master for more,” the elf said with a nonchalant shrug. “What business is it of mine?”
The geldrin commander squirmed. Hazkul knew the last thing the commander wanted to do was speak to Jaernok Tur about his failure. The elf watched the geldrin hem and haw for a moment, weighing his options.
“You know how badly he wants the treasure,” Chol said finally, fighting hard to avoid the elf’s stare.
“He did seem to like the axe I brought,” the elf mused. Another grin tugged at the edge of his mouth as he shifted to another topic with which to twist the geldrin. “You’re sure it wasn’t the artifact you were looking for?”
“No. The stone was supposed to be red. The scroll described it like a blood stone. The one in your axe didn’t seem red enough,” Chol explained, not looking entirely convinced of his own words. “The scroll also said it was in the west. It said nothing of Tarrine. That’s where you got the axe, right?”
Hazkul smiled. The elf knew, of course, that the sorcerer had them retrieving two different artifacts, but Chol’s hesitation told him the geldrin was not so certain. “It is. You do realize Tarrine is in the west, right?”
The geldrin grumbled to himself, considering the possibility.
“Whether the weapon was or wasn’t the one the sorcerer was searching for matters little. He seemed to like it, nonetheless. Would you agree, Chadwa?” he said airily.
“You have to help me,” Chol blurted. “We must retake the mining camp.”
“There you go, throwing that ‘we’ around again.” Hazkul clicked his tongue as he shook his head at the geldrin. “I’ve already told you, I’ve got my own tasks.”
“What tasks?” the geldrin asked, getting louder. When Chadwa took a few steps closer from the corner, the commander forced himself to calm down under her disconcerting stare.
I do like when she does that, Hazkul thought in amusement.
“What could be so important that it would take precedence over this?” Chol asked, quieter this time.
“You haven’t been maintaining the roads between Glinso and Ventohl very well.”
The geldrin commander’s stony face twisted. “I, what?”
“Well, as I see it, the sorcerer gave you command of the western region. Everything west of Ventohl is under your purview. Sadly, several of my own men … and ladies,” Hazkul added, nodding to Chadwa. “Well, they were killed when a ragtag militia ambushed us on your road. Your master wasn’t very pleased with that. Probably figured you had already defeated any resistance in the west. Boy, wasn’t that a surprise?”
Chol’s jaw slackened. He huffed a few times, unable to find words for the elf’s insinuation.
“Not to mention,” Hazkul said as he walked to a side table and poured himself a glass of wine. “The driver we used for the cage cart was from your little town. You wouldn’t believe how quickly he turned on us. I would hate to find out you had anything to do with the ambush. Especially because the sorcerer wanted the huntsman so badly.”
Chol was flabbergasted. The geldrin stared at the elf with his one good eye. Hazkul smirked as he took a sip, letting the geldrin stew. I do love when they squirm.
He had never liked the geldrins. There was something … off about them. Hazkul had never even seen one until Jaernok Tur marched them out of the Crags.
“Look,” the elf finally said. “I’m not saying you had anything to do with the ambush. Of course not. But you must admit, it doesn’t look good when you set it next to the fact that you lost the Glinso Mining Camp. Wouldn’t you agree? Now, I’ve never seen a geldrin do anything against the sorcerer. You all serve your master well. But who knows what he’d think.”
The geldrin’s head drooped. He muttered to himself as he kicked at the floor.
“Look, Chol,” Hazkul said, more sympathetically. “I understand what it’s like when you feel you have no options left. Let’s face it, I’ve been there myself. Most of the Sons of Silence came here originally because they had nowhere else to go. How about this,” he said, stepping closer to the geldrin. “I’ll let you and your crew stay here a few days so you can work this out. Then, when you’re ready, we can discuss your options.”
Hazkul led the geldrin to the door and ushered him out, instructing one of Ventohl’s attendants to show the geldrin to some quarters. He closed the door behind the commander.
The elf turned and found himself square in the sights of a disapproving Chadwa.
“What?” he said, shrugging as though he’d done nothing wrong. “I know what you’re thinking. Geldrins are bad. They’re dumb, and they’re bad. I don’t disagree. But,” he said, raising a finger and an eyebrow. “We’ve never encountered a geldrin in such a dire situation. We’ve never had a geldrin in our ranks. And I definitely never wanted one, let alone expected the possibility. But think what he might be able to do for us that we can’t do because we don’t have stone skin.”
The witch stared at him through her messy black bangs, unconvinced.
“I know, I know,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Geldrins just do what the sorcerer tells them to do. It’s actually kind of weird how they follow him so blindly.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Right. Dumb. But seriously,” he said, pouring another glass of wine. “There’s something not right about them. I mean, they’re just … off. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Chadwa didn’t reply as she turned and headed for the door.
“Good talk, Chadwa,” Hazkul said, making sure she could hear him as she left. “Maybe next time we can go for a walk and hold hands.”
The door slammed, and the elf smirked.