Weapon of the Guild [The Chronicles of Grimm Dragonblaster, Book 2] Read Online Free PDF Page B

to get rid of a lot of preconceptions if I'm to play this game well, Grimm thought as they strode over to the young swordsman.
    "I am Questor Dalquist, and this is my fellow mage, Questor Grimm. We are Guild Mages looking for a skilled and experienced swordsman to aid us on an important Quest. You look to be a man familiar with the blade. Would you be interested in joining us for a week or so?” Dalquist asked quietly, holding up his left hand to show his blue and gold Guild Ring.
    The blond swordsman looked up for a moment and motioned Grimm and Dalquist into the chairs opposite him.
    "I'm Harvel Rusea, Lord Mage,” he said in a deep, calm voice. “I'm your man, if you can afford me—but I warn you, I don't come cheap. I'm older than I look, and I've been in many battles at odds that would have been fatal to lesser swordsmen."
    Dalquist shrugged. “We might feel happier to meet your stipulated fee if you could give us some evidence of your skill,” he said, swiftly adding, “not that we doubt your word."
    "Uril!” Harvel shouted, pointing to the sword at his side. “Just how good am I with this thing?"
    "Questor Dalquist, if you want a good swordsman, you can't get much better than Harvel, here,” the huge landlord rumbled. “We first met when we fought together in the Sugar Wars, under Lord Dravin's flag, and you know of my fighting experience.
    "Harvel's one of the five best men with a sword I've ever met, and I served in one man's army or another for over thirty-five years. Whatever he asks for, I advise you to give it to him; he's worth it. And he can keep his mouth shut, too."
    "Thanks, Uril. Pity I can't say the same for you,” Harvel called back. Instead of taking affront, Uril laughed and turned to serve another customer.
    "Well, Harvel, it seems you come highly recommended,” Dalquist said. He made a gesture with one hand and muttered a spell in his personal spell-language. “There; I have cast a spell so no eavesdropper can listen to what we say,” the Questor said. Dalquist then embarked on a detailed explanation of the Quest, without mentioning High Lodge or that the Eye of Myrrn had been stolen from a Guild House.
    "It sounds like an enjoyable diversion, mage,” Harvel said, smiling, when Dalquist had finished.
    "If the expedition is acceptable to you, what are your terms?" Harvel mentioned the sum of four gold pieces a week. Dalquist politely refused and offered two. Eventually they agreed on two and a half gold pieces, ten percent of any booty taken, and a replacement weapon of equal value to the sword at his side if it should be badly damaged or broken. Both Dalquist and Harvel spat on their palms and shook hands to solemnise the deal, and Dalquist relaxed his spell. The swordsman called to Uril for another round of drinks. Harvel and Dalquist began to exchange adventure stories the inexperienced Grimm could not hope to match, so the junior mage contented himself with occasional polite nods, interjecting murmurs of appreciation at appropriate intervals. Although the magic contained in Redeemer countered the intoxicating effects of alcohol, it did not lessen drink's demands on the bladder. After a few glasses of beer, Grimm found himself needing to use the jakes, and he excused himself, threading his way through the mass of bibulous humanity thronging the bar. On the way back, he bumped into one of the scarred ruffians who seemed to form a large part of the tavern's regular customers. The impact spilled a minute quantity of wine onto the man's grubby, threadbare clothes.
    "Watch where you're going, can't you?” the warrior growled. “You clumsy young oaf; I ought to teach you some manners, and I'm just about in the mood to do that,” he snarled, with a belligerent jut of his jaw.
    "Please excuse my clumsiness,” Grimm said. “Let me buy you another drink to make amends."
    "Think you can buy me with your blandishments, boy? I'll have no stripling catamite fawning over me!" Several heads