The Sold Sword Company

THE SOLD SWORD COMPANY
A SHORT STORY BY MICHAELA CATALANO

You don't know what king we serve, boy
You don't know what things we employ.

- Sunset Rubdown, They Took a Vote and Said No


Salient walked in front, Cleave behind and slightly to the right. Under other circumstances they might have moved side by side, but on this day it could prove useful for Salient to appear the master and the younger man the servant. A servant may be presumed to have lesser value than his master; it may also be presumed that the servant alleivates a weakness on the master's part. With Salient's outward appearance not necessarily suggesting a man well versed in the arts of war, Cleave ought naturally be seen as hired or indentured muscle.

And through this simple change in arrangement did two equally lethal partners present themselves to the men they planned to hire in a manner that offered them the greatest tactical advantage should their palaver turn hostile.

The walls of the shrine appeared almost to swallow the dim light of the evening sky. Time seemed not to have taken its toll on the structure; images of Cold and Thunder remained strikingly embossed, showing scenes of brotherhood and battle near as clearly as they day they had first been carved.

"I don't like this," Cleave said. "Why do they have to meet us way the hell out here?"

"It is part of their mystique, I suppose," Salient replied. "They insist on being seen only in forgotten places of worship, as befits their image."

"Right. Forgotten places of worship conveniently far from any decent civilization. And anyway, how many of them are going to be here? If they're half as good as they're supposed to be we could be in deep shit."

"There is little cause for worry. Simply because we are prepared for disaster does not mean it is likely to take place. I am sure our negotiations will be carried out amicably."

"Hmph." Cleave moved as if to spit, then reconsidered. "It's fucking hot. It shouldn't be hot when the sun's going down. This weather is bullshit."

Salient sighed. "I do not see how your complaining will ameliorate the issue. Now, please. Let me concentrate on the task at hand. The Company ought be here soon."

"Pleased to exceed your expectations, sir." The voice was light and filled with mirth. Its owner stepped out from behind a pillar of dark stone. He was a man of average height, build and looks. There was little of him that seemed likely to stick in one's memory. "Martyr, at your service." He extended his hand. Salient shook it.

"I am Salient, and my assosciate is known as Cleave," he said. Martyr waved at the big man, who nodded in response. "We have come, as previously stated, to request your services in a matter of utmost delicacy."

"Ah! You're in luck, sir. Such matters are our specialty. How, specifically, may we be of service to you?"

"There is an object I require," Salient said. "A crystal, to be precise. I have it on good authority that this crystal resides in the temple of St Edward on Sunspeak Mountain."

"St Edward," Martyr mused. "Hmm. A crystal, you say. Might you describe this obscure object of desire in more detail?"

"It is small; no larger than two inches long, an inch wide and a quarter inch thick. It is of a clear white color, and may emit a subtle glow when in darkness or deep shadow."

"Well, now," Martyr said. "How interesting. And you need our services for this retrieval because...?"

Salient coughed. "I have reason to believe others of some significant power desire this crystal themselves. I would not delegate a task so close to my heart to any I could not trust to see it to its completion."

"Of course, of course... I presume you mean only to hire one of my Company? Regardless, the limit will be two; I'm afraid Apostle is away on other business at the moment."

"It is of no consequence. I am certain one of your number shall suffice."

"Ah, now, here lies the real question. Which of us is it you feel is most suited to your task?"

"I would see the other man, if such is possible, before making my choice," Salient said.

Martyr smiled. "Certainly. You need only continue to observe your surroundings."

Salient did so, mildly confused as to Martyr's point, until he sensed Cleave tensing up at his side. He followed Cleave's gaze to the very wall they had first observed, nonplussed, until suddenly he saw it; a tall man in dark clothes, leaning superciliously against a carving of Thunder. Even now that he was aware of the man's presence, it was difficult to tell where the mercenary ended and the wall began.

"Step forward, my good man," said Martyr, "And introduce yourself to our esteemed clientele." The man in black stepped forward, but did not introduce himself. He studied his clients through sunken eyes.

"I apologize for my assosciate's... shyness," Martyr said, eyes gleaming. "Allow me to introduce Savior, the last of our number."

Salient looked the man over, then glanced at Cleave, who shrugged imperceptibly. Salient nodded. "I like the look of him." He turned to Savior. "I would request your services," he said.

"Forty drachma per day," Savior said. "Eighty up front."

"It is done," Salient replied, stepping forward. He handed the mercenary four gold coins, then retreated to his previous position.

"Excellent, excellent," Martyr said. "I hope you will forgive my brevity, but I have matters to attend to, and so here I shall take my leave of you. Ah, I see my assosciate has already done so. How rude of him."

Salient looked about himself, startled, and saw that it was true. Savior was nowhere in sight. He turned back to Martyr, about to speak, but the words died on his lips. Both of the mercenaries had vanished. He sighed and shook his head.

"Shit," Cleave said. "I still don't like this. I'm feeling like we're outclassed."

"So it seems. We must count ourselves fortunate that proceedings went so smoothly. Shall we go?"

Cleave spat, and the two men began to walk, side by side, the setting sun at their backs.