The Price of Faith (49 page)
The Bearded Muscle
was a dimly lit, strong smelling, beer stained tavern of no small ill repute but damn if they didn't serve some of the best ale he'd ever tasted. He sat with his feet up on the table in the centre of the room, rocking back on his chair's hind legs and sipping at the wonderful beverage. There were no other customers in today. The tavern was closed. His own men stood guard outside and two sat with the owner of the tavern down in the cellar. He was alone and thoroughly enjoying his drink.
He was forced to congratulate himself on his latest endeavour. Not only had he helped to facilitate a change in the ruling system of an entire empire but, in what was the most complex plan he had ever woven together, he had done exactly as he had been asked. He had killed Kessick, installed a new influential hero in the wilds, consolidated his own power in no less than three of the largest cities in the wilds and saved the Inquisition in the process. He may have done none of the actual leg work but it had all been his plan. His only regret in the whole situation was the death of Jezzet Vel'urn. He had liked the woman, truth be told, but more than that he had really wanted to get between her legs. Sometimes everything did not go his way, not often but from time to time.
He took another sip and stretched out his arms as though to embrace the entire, empty, tavern. Of course he hadn't actually planned it all himself, not this time. The Oracle had their own fair share of responsibility in this one not that they'd ever own up to it. Drake worked behind the scenes, manipulating folk to carry out his will and the Oracle advised. Drake had long ago discovered it was bloody useful having an Oracle on your side. Knowing the future was a good way to stack the deck and Drake never played without being certain of winning.
The door opened and in walked the Oracle. Drake grinned, took his big boots off the table and rocked the chair onto all four feet. He stood, repositioned his sabre and pulled his blue patchwork coat into position. Appearances were a big part of the reputation and he had one hell of a reputation to maintain.
The Oracle looked at Drake and broke into a smile. “Good to see you again, brother.” He pulled his own white coat into position.
“Aye, usually is,” Drake said. He crossed the room in three long strides and embraced his younger sibling. “Good to see you too, Inquisitor.”
“You have another one of those,” Hironous Vance asked pointing to the mug of beer.
“Aye, behind the bar.”
Hironous collected the mug and sat down with Drake at the table in the centre of the room. “Everything went as planned, I hear.”
Drake grinned. “Just about. Ya could have told me about Jezzet.”
Hironous shrugged. “Fate is a tricky thing where Arbiter Darkheart is involved.”
“I hear he doesn't like me much.”
“I'd stay out of his way if I were you. Regardless I have him busy for now.”
Drake took a big swig and leaned forward. “Right then. Done what ya wanted. Inquisition saved. Council scared of their own bloody shadows.”
“Indeed. It won't be long before I can start rebuilding the council with my own people.”
Drake ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on his chair. “Reckon it might be time we get to my part of the deal then.”
Hironous nodded. “The pirates.”
Drake grinned, his single golden tooth glinting in the dim tavern light. “Aye.”