Vacation: Part III

"I heard you were dead, Ian."

Blackthorn grinned across the table at Ferret. The older mercenary had brought him to the Ugly Monkey Inn, a favorite haunt of the sellswords. The place hadn't changed a bit: pipe smoke swirled through the room, and the sand spread on the floor showed occasional dark splotches, blood-stain markers of frequent arguments settled at the sharp end of a sudden dagger. "I seem to remember a certain old man telling me not to believe everything I heard! You must be slipping into your dotage, Ferret!"

"Me... slipping? This from a man who could have knocked those three cubs off their horses with a small fireball, but chooses to risk life and limb? I thought I had taught you better than that."

"You did, I just was thinking of the horses." It was a stupid excuse, Ian thought, but Ferret seemed to buy it, much to Ian's relief. He saw no reason to worry his old friend with the news that he had died, but had been resurrected and was without his Talent anymore... besides there were people in this room who would jump at the chance to even old scores if they knew he was without magic. He changed the subject, fast. "About that favor for a friend: there is a woman in Camelot, Lady Xanthia. Xan has been a good friend to me... saved my butt a few times, as a matter of fact. She has a husband, Tien Shien Han. Little guy... three eyes... y'know 'im?"

Ferret sipped his ale slowly, then shook his head. "Nay, a thing like three eyes would have stuck in my mind... wait... I did hear something about a three-eyed man... " Ferret scratched his chin." Now what... oh, he doesn't use a sword much, right? Mostly hands and feet?" Ferret nodded. "I've never met him, but I've heard of him. What of him?"

"He's gone missing, or worse, Ferret. I need you to ask around, let me know if you hear something. He was on some sort of raid with a man named Fakhran. That one let Xan know her husband had been taken, but refused to tell where they had been so we could rescue or ransom him. He claimed it would violate the Mercenary Code... breach of privacy with his employers."

Ian watched as Ferret spat disdainfully on the sandpacked floor. While the privacy of a contract was indeed sacred among mercenaries, only one other thing was even more sacrosanct: the obligation a man's swordbrothers had towards their fellow mercenary's family in time of grief. The sad ballad being sung very far off key by a group of drunken veterans bore witness to that, as its dying mercenary begged his mates to carry word to his wife.

Blackthorn looked at Ferret. "And I want this Fakhran, Ferkhran, whatever his name is, blackballed until he coughs up some information. Spread the word."

"Aye, I'll do that!" Ferret grinned as he changed the subject. "So, I hear ye are a dad again. Life has been good to you, Ian, hey?"

"Yes, I suppose it has."

"You suppose? Ian, you haven't changed that much after all. You still are less afraid of dying than of the outside chance you may have to live a happy life!" Ferret chortled, then rose and held his hand out. "Twas good to see your face, again. Now I have those cubs to fuss over. You best go home and wait. I'll send ye word when and if I hear something."

They shook hands, and parted at the doorway of the Ugly Monkey Inn. Ian stood and watched as Ferret walked away, thinking that while he missed that man and his old way of life, the Twisted Otter Mercenary Company was no longer his home or his family. Camelot was. He mounted Horse, and headed for home.