Epilogue

After his friend entered, Josiah closed and locked the door to his barber shop. “I’ll get the tea in the back. What’d you bring for lunch?”

From her high perch, Helga said, “Hot tea. Hot Tea.”

Higslaff dragged the four customer chairs away from the wall. He arranged two to serve as a makeshift table. “A loaf of dark rye bread, honey and pickled goose eggs.”

Josiah shrugged. He didn’t care for pickled eggs. Higslaff loved them, and it was his turn to bring lunch. They shared an afternoon meal once a week to exchange town gossip and guild information. He brought out two tin cups filled with steaming hot cinnamon tea. He’d already stirred the customary teaspoon of brown sugar into each.

They hadn’t spoken since Lieutenant Weldy of the City Guard interviewed them, actually everyone involved, separately, after the attack on Higslaff’s pawn shop. For Josiah, the five days had passed slower than a snail completing a marathon on Quaaludes.

“Shop back up and running?” Josiah set the tea cups down on the center chair and then handed his friend the two wooden plates he’d tucked under his arm.

“Reopened two days ago, actually.” Higslaff set the two plates on the makeshift table. He adjusted his hat before lifting the loaf of bread from the basket resting on the floor. “Thogg is back on the job today. Bonnar was yesterday.”

Josiah nodded. Dwarves generally had a superior Constitution score, and would recover from a Revive the Dead Spell faster than a half-ogre. “Bet they appreciate the opportunity.”

Higslaff tore the loaf and handed half to the barber. “You can bet they appreciate working for someone who has deep pockets.” He smiled. “An investment in employee loyalty.”

Quite an investment, Josiah silently observed. A nearly twenty-thousand gold investment. This world did have some benefits over his own. But, like in his own, those with the money had better access to those benefits.

Higslaff said, “Better than those fools who assaulted my shop and killed my people got.”

“They got better than they deserved,” Josiah said. He thought about Coleen Sammae holding her dead familiar, and what she would’ve done. The attackers were lucky they died during the fight.

“No argument from me.” Higslaff lifted the ceramic jar filled with honey and removed the lid. He offered the honey and a spoon to Josiah.

“You’re my guest here,” the barber said. “You go first.”

Higslaff licked his lips and accepted. “They got off far better than those fools who attempted to rob your shop.”

Technically it wasn’t his shop Mustache Man and his two associates attempted to rob. Nevertheless, Josiah sat up straight, all ears. That was the information he’d been waiting for. A day after the failed robbery, Black Venom ordered the Drop Room closed. As a result, Josiah’s shop became a less important target in the burgeoning guild war. It also limited incidental access to guild members using the Drop Room. And a significant drop-off in business, and importance within the guild.

“Black Venom ordered them animated as zombies.” Higslaff stopped dipping honey on his torn-open half of the loaf and locked gazes with Josiah. “Souled zombies.”

Josiah swallowed hard. Zombies with their souls bound to the corpse. Those types lasted for decades of servitude. Their soul supplemented the magic that kept the corpse from rotting to pieces. Souled zombies couldn’t pass for the living. They looked like an embalmed corpse and smelled like spoiled meat, and were completely under the control of the evil cleric that created them.

That was one way to get them to talk. More effective than a Charm Spell or any sort of Compel Spell. An expensive way but, then again, Black Venom had the resources.

“The leader of the group and the one killed by the Drop Room’s traps were members of the guild splitting off from the one in Riven Rock. The Stosh fellow was a local guy. Hired muscle.”

Higslaff finished dipping honey on his bread and handed the spoon to Josiah. “Word like that gets around, should be harder for them to recruit.”

That was an understatement. “Did our side learn anything?”

“A few names and a little bit about their guild’s structure.”

After Helga flew down and got her bit of bread and returned to her perch, Josiah began dipping honey onto his half of the loaf. “What about the group that attacked your place?”

“Apollo clerics communicated with the souls of the magic users before the three days tethering them to their bodies elapsed. They were an adventuring party hired to wreak havoc on my shop. Kill me if possible. Hit and run was their plan.”

“But they didn’t expect the warrior and gnome healer to be around. Kalgore and Jax.” Josiah rubbed his chin. “Or the other three to get involved.”

“We—I—got lucky there.” Higslaff reached back into the basket and lifted a jar holding two pickled goose eggs. He placed one on each plate. “Had our own party of adventurers. Plus you and my people.

“The thief Sill Rochelle killed. He’d been in the shop a couple times. Pawned a pair of gem-encrusted copper bracelets. Moderate value.”

“How much inventory did you lose?” Even though Josiah didn’t expect a detailed answer, it was only polite to ask. Plus, he was sort of interested.

The pawn shop owner shook his head in disgust. “A lot less than it cost to have my people Revived.”

“Did you demand compensation through whatever the City Guard recovered from the bodies?”

“The cleric had an enchanted shield. An image of his god was painted on it. Set.” Higslaff laughed. “What kind of a god is named Set?”

Josiah recalled from a mythology class in high school, and from playing both Dungeons & Dragons and Monsters, Maces and Magic, Set was an Egyptian god. Black—or evil, if he accurately recalled. He didn’t say anything. Just shrugged and took a bite of his bread.

“They had scrolls with spells scribed on them by powerful magic users.” Higslaff tipped his head from side to side in equivocation. “Well, not powerful, but maybe the word would be potent. They used them to take out Thogg, after the invisible thief opened the shop’s door. Then they sent in a pair of Fireburst Spells.

“That Kalgore fellow thought they were attacking his friends and hacked the arm off one of the magic users. Then the fight was on, and the hired party didn’t want to abandon—or leave anyone behind that might reveal them.”

Josiah nodded in understanding and took a sip of tea. “Went downhill from there, for them.”

“The Chief Magistrate is supposed to give me the gold they had stashed. Payment for their unlawful deed. The Apollo Church is going to destroy the shield since it’s tainted Black. I’ll probably see some small, what they term, remuneration for that.” Higslaff took a sip of his tea. His raised eyebrows said he didn’t approve of the decision.

Higslaff sighed. “I’ll see the gold, eventually.”

“So the Church of Apollo, the magistrates, and the City Guard, and thus, Duke Huelmer knows there is a guild war?” Josiah’s question was really more of a statement without need of confirmation.

Higslaff gave it. “That’s the case, which will make things even more interesting.”

After a few minutes of eating in silence, where Higslaff delighted in his pickled egg, and Josiah pretended to, probably unsuccessfully, Higslaff said, “Did you hear they tried to burn down the Blue Bugle last night?”

Josiah realized the “they” meant the Riven Rock guild. “I heard something about that.”

“Similar deal as with my place. Apparently they hired someone to cast a Flame Wall Spell from a scroll.” Higslaff laughed. “Bad move on their part for two reasons.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. “A dozen or more magic users of all varieties were inside the Bugle and dealt with it, so other than scorching some of the flowers and weeds out front, no damage was inflicted.”

After a moment Josiah asked, “And the second?”

“Pissed off half the important folks in Three Hills City.”

Josiah had to agree. It was a front and a big coin-earner for his guild, and losing it would hurt the guild’s finances. That said, the outside guild attempting to oust the established local one didn’t know Three Hills City that well. The Bugle was a popular spot, not only for the rich, powerful and influential, but for the more average guy like him, when he could afford it. That kind of thing was certain to undermine recruiting folks to their side.

“Any thoughts on Gurk?” Josiah asked. “He’s a trained thief. Unaffiliated, to my knowledge.”

“Don’t know. I reported you said he wasn’t interested in a sponsor. Or interested in joining.”

“I haven’t seen him, or any of his friends. They still in the city?”

Higslaff’s cup of tea had cooled enough for him to drain it. “He and his associates are staying at the Glade House, like you said. The half-goblin thief frequents the Red Brick, usually after the morning rush. He might have a thing for the girl that serves there.”

Josiah finished his tea and set the cup on his empty plate. “So, the guild is watching him?”

“Him, and that elf he travels with.” Higslaff’s eyes widened. “She’s a real looker.”

That was an understatement. But Josiah didn’t figure Gurk and his party would be hanging around long, especially if they were PCs. He was about seventy percent sure they were. Sharing that kind of information wouldn’t make any sense to Higslaff or, as far as he knew, anyone in the guild.

Josiah slid Higslaff’s empty plate under his own, and looped a finger in the handles of both empty cups. “Yeah, I bet our guys will be more interested in watching Marigold than Gurk.” He said that, realizing that her blue jay familiar might complicate things.

Higslaff rolled his eyes. “Bet some of our girls will be as well.”

They both laughed.

“Same time next week?” the pawn shop owner asked, knowing the answer.

“My turn to buy,” the barber replied.

“No pickled eggs then?”

“And no strawberry jam.” Josiah knew his friend hated the taste.

“Fair enough.” Higslaff got to his feet. “See you then.”

Josiah nodded once and stood. “Unless something happens sooner.”

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