Kormak grinned. “I’ll remember that,” he said. “Now scat!”

The boy smiled back at him and then scampered off along the alley, heading in a different direction from the one the gang hunting him had gone in.

Kormak turned to Bors and his henchmen. “Now what am I going to do with you?” he said.

“Nothing if you’re smart, Jurgen Krugman won’t like it.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because Jurgen is going to rule this city, and we’re his friends. He’ll set the Silent Man on you.” He paused expectantly, waiting for a reaction that never came. The name of the Silent Man obviously meant something. It had not five years ago.

“I guess I should spare your lives then,” said Kormak.

“You weren’t seriously thinking of killing us,” said the other boy. He looked frightened now.

“I don’t like people drawing knives on me,” he said. “You’d do well to remember that. Next time I might not be in such a good mood.”

Kormak turned to lead his horse away.

“What about our knives,” said the boy. Kormak tossed it. It stood quivering in the cobbles between his legs.

“Nice throw,” said Bors grudgingly.

“I was aiming for his ear,” said Kormak, dropping the second knife on the ground beside the hand he had stood on. Bors went white.

“And a pleasant evening to you both,” said Kormak, leading his horse away down the street.


The waxing, gibbous moon emerged from the clouds as Kormak reached the Gilded Lion. It was a big tavern on Silver Street just off the town’s Southern Square. The vast bulk of the Cathedral loomed over it. All around were other expensive inns and the mansions of the town’s wealthier merchants. Kormak passed through the gateway arch and led his horse into the courtyard. A stableboy ran up to take it, glanced at Kormak, did a double take then grinned and said, “Good evening, Sir Kormak, long time no see.”

“Good evening, Ned,” said Kormak. He slipped the youth a couple of copper coins. “It’s been a while.”

“Must be five years at least,” he said. “The mistress was not best pleased when you rode out.”

“You think I’ll get a warm welcome?”

“Maybe too warm, if you catch my meaning.”

“I guess I’ll just have to find out.”

“I always said you were a brave man as well as a generous one. You do like to live dangerously though, don’t you?”

Kormak shrugged, took up his saddle-bags and strode into the inn. The taproom was large and warm and smelled of very good food. A number of pretty barmaids moved around the area serving wealthy merchants and the well-groomed hard men who served them.

When Kormak stepped in, all eyes went to him for a minute. Men whose lives depended on their ability to quickly sum up a stranger stared at him with calculating glances. He let them look, knowing that all they would see was a successful mercenary, one who had maybe been a knight once before he fell out with the wrong people. It was what most people took him to be.

He strode up to the bar. A beautiful, blonde woman looked at him as if she could not decide whether to smile or throw the tankard she was holding at him. Kormak could not blame her. He had been forced to leave the house at speed the last time he was here.

Eventually she strode over to him and said, “You’ve got a nerve, I’ll say that for you.”

“Lovely as ever, Lila,” he said, looking her up and down.