“This looks like a tough place,” Kormak said. He kept his voice neutral.
“Does it? Boreas keeps telling me so but so far the people all have seemed friendly enough to me.”
“Maybe because Boreas has been with you,” Kormak said.
“We have a private chamber above,” said Boreas. “It is in the corner of the house, the walls are thick and there is little chance we will be overheard. Perhaps we should retire there before we discuss anything further?”
“After you,” Kormak said. Boreas did not look like a man he wanted behind him in a dark corner of an inn. It did not matter to Kormak whether these were the people who the Grandmaster had sent him to meet. He had not lived as long as he had by taking unnecessary chances.
The skull-faced man gave him a sour grin as if he understood exactly what Kormak was thinking. He lifted a heavy warhammer from beside the table and led the way up the stairs, Karnea trailing behind him.
Kormak followed, wondering what all this was about, and whether he was walking into a trap.
Chapter Two
THE WALLS OF this inn were old and thick. Their room was at the far end of a dark corridor. Kormak moved cautiously, holding himself in readiness in case anyone leapt out from the shadowy alcoves or doorways.
They reached the last room at the back of the inn, and when they did so, Karnea looked around to make sure they were unobserved and then muttered something. The brief flash of heat Kormak felt from the Elder Sign on his chest confirmed the woman was using magic.
“Nothing has been disturbed,” she said. Boreas produced a key, opened the door and stepped through. Karnea followed him. Kormak went in last and made sure he stepped to one side, keeping his back to the wall as he did so.
“You are a cautious one,” said Boreas.
“It has kept me alive,” Kormak said.
Karnea’s glance passed between the two of them. She suddenly understood she was in a situation where violent death might swiftly ensue, if the wrong thing was said or done. “With your permission, Sir Kormak, Boreas will lock the door and I shall raise some wards that ensure we are not eavesdropped upon by concealed listeners... or by other means.”
Kormak studied the chamber. It was large, and furnished with rough looking wooden furniture. There was a huge four-poster bed in the centre of the room and a pile of blankets thrown on the floor next to a pack that suggested Boreas slept there. At the window was a table and chair, clearly intended to be used as a desk. There was a large wardrobe in the corner which might have concealed a couple of men. He moved over to it, opened it and found nothing but clothing and stowed packs. It looked like he had only these two to deal with whatever happened.
“Go ahead,” he said.
Karnea produced four rune-marked stones from her purse, placed them in each corner of the room, closed her eyes and muttered another invocation. The Elder Sign on Kormak’s breast felt a little warmer as the currents of magic eddied around him.
Karnea’s eyes snapped open. A look of concentration passed across her face. Boreas turned the key in the lock and dropped the bar. Kormak stood ready. If there was going to be trouble, now was when it would most likely happen.
“Good. We are secure.” Karnea said. She slumped down on the bed. Her face was flushed and she sounded a little winded. Performing magic was always draining. Kormak did not lower his guard. It might be a trick, after all.
Boreas put down his hammer, leaning it against the wall beside the window. “Feel a little more relaxed now, do we?” he asked. There was a taunting edge to his words. Kormak merely smiled coldly, not allowing himself to be goaded.
“Before we go any further tell me why we are here,” Kormak said.
“I have orders for you, under the red seal,” Karnea said. “If I may, I will produce them.”
Kormak nodded and she fumbled within the same pack from which she had produced the ward stones. Kormak held himself ready. A wizard might carry many powerful adjuncts in such a place and some of them would enable the almost instantaneous casting of magic. Karnea produced only a folded square of parchment. She moved over to hand it to Kormak. He shook his head.
“Put it on the table and then move away.” She did as she was told.
Kormak removed the amulet from beneath his tunic with his left hand, walked over and touched the paper. It did not catch fire. There was no sizzling sound of a spell being disrupted. No sensation of any magic whatsoever. He returned the amulet to its place and picked up the letter. It was sealed with wax, imprinted with the blurred outlines of an old dragon sigil. There was a slight scratch on the dragon’s breast. It was not impressive. It was not meant to be. It looked authentic.