Slathbog's Gold - Forman Mark L - Страница 38

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Arconn politely showed the old man into the room, offering him a chair near Bregnest. The old man moved slowly, looking at each of the company in turn as he walked through the room. He seemed unsure of himself, as if he had been summoned here instead of it being his own idea to come.

“All of you then,” said the old man, taking the seat Arconn had indicated. “I suppose you know your own ways.”

“But we do not know yours,” replied Bregnest, his eyes never leaving the old man. “Will you tell us why you wish to speak to us?”

“I’m sure you know,” the old man answered, laughing slightly. “First, tell me your names. And if you will, a drop of ale would be most welcome.”

“The ale first,” said Bregnest, motioning to Halfdan. “But perhaps you should give your name first, so we will know what to call you.”

“Thank you kindly,” said the old man, taking a mug from Halfdan and drinking deeply. “I see you have some wisdom. I am called Eric—Eric Von Tealo.”

“That is not a Techen name,” Bregnest replied in a thoughtful tone. “I am Silvan Bregnest, leader of this company. If you wish, I will name my companions, but it seems a small matter.”

“As you wish, Master Bregnest,” Eric replied, raising his mug in a toast.

“Will you tell us what business you have with us?” Bregnest questioned.

“Oh, yes,” Eric replied. “I have quite a tale to tell, and I think you will be happy to hear it—even if it does come from a poor old man like myself.”

“Old I can see,” said Bregnest with a smile. “Poor, I cannot judge. I think, however, that you wish to be less poor before your tale is told.”

“You have a keen eye,” Eric answered, a sly grin on his face. “Perhaps some arrangement can be reached?”

“I would not pay for goods before I see them,” said Bregnest in a stern tone. “However, I will make you this offer. If your tale rings true and has any value, I will pay you five gold coins. Sufficient payment, I think, for even the best of stories.”

“Five from each man who hears my story would be closer to the mark,” countered Eric. “Though perhaps my story is of no value and I should go about my own business.”

“Free drink is payment enough for stories,” snapped Halfdan, rising from his seat.

“Halfdan,” said Bregnest sharply. The dwarf sank back to his chair.

“The dwarf has no patience,” commented Eric, still

smiling slyly.

“And mine will grow short,” replied Bregnest. “Tell your tale, old man. If there is value in it, we will pay five gold coins each for the hearing. If not . . . well, the free drink will be your payment.”

“Very well,” replied Eric. “Perhaps a touch more ale then, to wet my throat in the telling.”

Halfdan refilled Eric’s cup, a look of anger and dislike on his face.

“To begin with, you are correct, my name is not Techen at all,” Eric began. “My family is from Varlo, though none of my family now living has ever seen that fabled city. It was my father’s, father’s, father who last saw the great city and it was in ruins then. It was my grandsire of many generations ago who last saw the city when it was fair.”

Eric paused, his eyes half-closed in deep thought or memory. For several minutes the only sound was the soft crackling of the fire in the grate, and then Eric continued.

“It was this ancient Von Tealo who served in the great city as one of its most trusted guards. It is from him that my information comes, though my great-grandfather found that his story was true.

“I will not tell the whole story of the days before the dragon came to Varlo, as the tale is too long and has little to do with my own. I will say that my ancestor was living in the heart of the great castle when the evil arrived.

“Though he did not see the beast himself, my ancient father soon learned of the worm’s arrival. He was deep inside the castle on the king’s business and his first thoughts were to find the king and fight the monster, but fortunately for myself that was not to be. For as news of the disaster came, so did the survivors of Varlo. They were white with fear, and even the bravest of them were shaken and confused. It was from them that my ancestor learned of the king’s death.”

Once more the old man fell silent. Alex saw a look of anger cross his face, but it vanished as Eric sipped his ale.

“With his master dead and so many terrified people looking to him for guidance and protection, he knew the course he had to take,” Eric went on. “He knew that escape from the castle into the city would be madness. The dragon would surely kill them all if they went through the main gates, so he took a different path.”

“And it is this path that you wish to tell us about?” Bregnest questioned.

“Forty pieces of gold seems a small price to pay for the path to the dragon’s hoard,” replied Eric.

“You test my patience,” said Bregnest coldly. “You ask for payment before the goods are seen.”

“Not at all,” replied Eric. “I simply wish a fair price for showing you the way to great wealth.”

“The way to wealth is a small matter when its protector is so great,” answered Bregnest. “You may show us a path that leads to our doom, and that is of no value at all.”

“Perhaps doom is all there is,” Eric said calmly. “However, I will not ask for payment unless you find success.”

“Very well then,” said Bregnest, his tone softening slightly. “If your path leads us to success, we will each give you fifty times the price we pay for your story.”

“A small amount from such a hoard,” complained Eric.

“You may know the path, but we will have to face the evil at its end,” replied Bregnest. “Fifty times five from each of us is all I will promise.”

“Perhaps, if you find success, you will feel more generous,” Eric offered.

“I have no doubt we will,” Bregnest agreed.

“This other path then,” Eric continued. “This other path that lead my ancestor to safety was hidden far beneath the castle, where few had ever gone. It was only by chance my ancestor knew of it at all, but that is another story for another time.

“In the deepest part of the castle there was a great hall and at the end of this hall was a spring. The spring was large, creating a fair-sized stream of water. A channel was cut for the water to flow in so the hall and the castle above would not be flooded. At the end of this channel, a tunnel emptied the water out of the mountain. The tunnel leads from the great hall to the meadows on the southern side of the city. There was at one time a stone path cut into one side of the tunnel so the ancient kings could go to the open fields beyond the city unseen.”

“If there was a spring beneath the castle, the dragon would have blocked it up years ago,” interrupted Bregnest. “And failing that, he would have blocked the tunnel.”

“The men of Varlo once tried to block the spring and failed,” said Eric. “And if the dragon blocked the tunnel, the castle would even now be flooded. However, when my great-grandfather last saw the city—a little more than a hundred years ago—the tunnel was not blocked.”

“Much can change in a hundred years,” said Bregnest in a thoughtful voice. “Why did your ancestor return to Varlo?”

“He hoped to win the city back,” answered Eric with a sad look on his face. “He thought he could drive the dragon out and restore life to the land of his fathers.”

“A secret entrance once used is no longer a secret,” said Bregnest grimly.

“Perhaps not, but it is still better than the front gate,” Eric answered. “The opening to the tunnel is not as easy to access as it once was, that much I know. When my great-grandfather returned to Techen, he told us what he’d seen. The dragon had piled great rocks over the tunnel’s mouth—not to block the water, but to block anyone trying to enter. The water flows freely out from under the rocks, but if a man wanted to enter the tunnel, he would have to swim under the rocks, against the current of the water.”

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