Konrad’s nerves were frayed to breaking point. The huge mansion home of the Dauska family towered on the clifftop, and far below, the cold waves crashed against the rocks. Two guards stood watching Konrad approach, and neither of them made an effort to hide the huge axes they carried.

"Odell, what’re you doing out here?" One of the guards asked.

Konrad's stomach churned, and he tried to steady his voice as the unfamiliar feeling of facial hair tickled his neck. "One of the sheep got out last night; Ash and I went looking for it," Konrad said, indicating to Spirit, and then beginning to cough violently.

"You've been out all night? You sound like you caught your own death, you old coot. Don’t go out no more without tellin us first, you hear?"

The bushy moustache began to come unglued, and Konrad just mumbled and blew his nose noisily into his sleeve as he shuffled around the back of the mansion.

When they were safely out of sight, he leaned against the wall and breathed deeply. "Let’s never do that again, Spirit," he whispered.

Spirit jumped up and put her paws on his chest, giving his face a lick.

"Careful you’ll pull the beard off. You know what to do; I’m counting on you," Konrad said, and Spirit darted off.

The inside of the great house was cold and deathly silent; each step he took on the wooden floor produced an eery creaking sound. The sound of muffled conversation and the gentle tingling sound of silverware on fine plates came from the far end of the corridor, and Konrad moved cautiously forward.

"The Portia Red, Odell. I should enjoy what luxuries I have left to me," said a deep, gravelly voice.

Konrad pushed the door open slowly and saw Balthazar Dauska sitting at the head of a large table. He was the very image of Rolo, except the gray in his otherwise black hair was raked back from the temples and resembled small silver wings. The lines around his eyes were deep, and his eyebrows furrowed as he looked slowly from Konrad to his manservant.

The real Odell was frozen in the act of pouring a glass of wine, the liquid lapping over the edge of the glass and onto the table as he stared at Konrad open-mouthed.

"Your moustache has fallen off, assassin," Balthazar said quietly, and Konrad saw his knuckles turn white as he gripped his steak knife.

Konrad held up his hands. "I’m not an assassin; Rolo sent me with a message," he said, his fake moustache flapping pathetically on his lips.

"How do I know you are telling the truth?"

"Rolo said if he wanted you dead, he's too proud to let someone else do it."

A smile cracked the face of the old Thane, and his great, booming laugh was identical to Rolo’s. "That’s quite a performance, Odell; kindly look for another bottle of the Portia Red; this one seems to have run out."

Yes, sir. Sorry, sir," the old manservant said and shuffled out past Konrad with a horrified expression, unable to take his eyes off of the figure who looked exactly like him.

Balthazar picked up the overflowing glass and took a long sip. "You’d better sit down then, hadn’t you? What’s your name?"

"Konrad."

Well, give me your message, Konrad."

Over the next hour, Konrad told the old Thane of Montdun everything that had happened since their departure from the Last Harbour. Balthazar listened silently, sipping his wine and nodding. It was only at the mention of the Linium under the coldest mountain that he looked sharply at Konrad, and his eyes narrowed.

"Rolo confirmed the deposit?"

Konrad nodded. "He said it would last for several years."

Balthazar rubbed his beard. "Luther will find out somehow; we have to secure it before he does. There is one question that remains. What did this demon want with my son?"

Knowing how superstitious Rolo was, Konrad had left out his status as a champion deliberately, but there didn’t seem to be any sense in denying it now.

"I’m a champion of the gods. I was sent to the mountain on a quest."

A strange expression crossed Balthazar’s face, and he blew out his cheeks. "A champion of the gods is a rare thing. I knew a champion a long time ago. Her name was Rhed. She was a champion of the Brother, keeping law and order on Parthanea."

"I’m not as important as that; I’m only a champion of small gods."

"Nobody is only a champion lad. The gods can touch the fates of us all; if they chose you, it was for a reason."

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The likelihood that any of Konrad's small gods had any kind of secret agenda to influence the future was unlikely; most of them couldn’t even remember their previous conversations with him, and the powers he had received thus far were not exactly mind-blowing.

It seemed to Konrad that no one really understood the gods at all. Athir said that they were vain and self-centered, but here was Balthazar speaking of them as architects of the future.

"I’ll organize ships to take loyal fighters to the mountain and secure it." Balthazar continued, beginning to pace back and forth just as Rolo did when he was excited about something. "As for freeing Rolo, there’s a tavern in the city called The Frozen Hearth, go there tonight and find a man named Hans; tell him I will pay, and he’ll help you with whatever you need to free Rolo."

"What about your other son, Luther?"

A dark cloud passed over the old man's face. "It doesn’t take the power of the gods to see his future. He’ll recklessly spend the gold he gained by selling our stores of Linium until there is nothing left, then his greedy and fickle supporters will leave him. If what you say about this mountain is true, we can wait there until the time is right and then return home to pick up the pieces."

"Thank you for your help."

"If everything goes well, we’ll meet again under the coldest mountain. If it goes poorly, then we will meet at whatever place awaits us after this world. Now how are you going to get out of here unseen? Rhed could turn invisible at the drop of a hat, it was astounding," Balthazar said as they reached the back door.

Konrad made a mental note to ask for invisibility and only invisibility for his next gifts.

"I have a plan for that," said Konrad, and he gave a sharp whistle. "Sorry about the mess."

"What mess?"

The ground trembled, and an ominous rumbling sound grew louder. The guards surrounding the mansion began to shout in panic as hundreds of terrified sheep hurtled down from the hills towards them, chased by a flickering gray shadow.

-

"There he is," Renau murmured.

Hans was a stocky man with the build of a brawler and a head shaved to stubble. He appeared to be the leader of the most grizzled group of ruffians that Konrad had ever seen. A short, swarthy man with an expression best described as ‘resting scowl’ sat next to an older woman with a glass eye who clenched her jaw so forcefully that Konrad thought her teeth would shatter. Rounding out the group were a stocky woman with the biggest forearms that Konrad had ever seen and a gnome with a tangled gray beard that was full of crumbs.

"Greetings, I am Hercule Pots, and this is my assistant Pickle," Renau announced, twirling his ridiculous moustache. "Say hello, Pickle."

"Hello," said Konrad, his eyes watering. The old fire breather was blasting flames in to the air, and the makeup Renau had insisted he wear was melting into his eye.

"Together we are ‘Pickle and Pots’." Renau exclaimed.

"You might have heard of us," Konrad said under his breath.

The group sat in stunned silence, and their leader, Hans, blinked several times, his mouth hanging slightly open.

"We are traveling with a troupe of entertainers, and we couldn’t help but notice that smashing cane of yours," Renau continued undeterred.

Hans scratched at his stubble. "You here about the jail break?"

"Does no one have any respect for subterfuge any more?" Renau muttered, taking a stool at the table.

"Yes, we’re here about the jail break," Konrad confirmed, ignoring the angry glance from Renau and sitting down. "But we don’t need help with the actual breaking. We need a distraction."

"What kind of distraction?" Hans asked.

"The kind that pulls the guards away and clears a path from the Thanes mansion to the docks."

"Big job," the scowl-faced man said. "Expensive."

"Your subtlety is truly remarkable, like a brick through a window," Renau replied drily. "My patron will pay you the going rate."

"Plus a hundred gold, cause I know who he is and he can afford it," Hans countered.

"An he’s desperate," the gnome added with a wheezing laugh.

Hans sat back and folded his arms with a superior look on his scarred face.

"Done," Renau snapped, rising from the table.

The smaller man with the permanent scowl slammed a long dagger into the table and glared at Renau. "We’ll tell you when we’re bleeding done, you prancing ninny."

"Harry, we got the gold, and more," Hans said, a warning note in his voice.

"But I don’t want bloody gold, Hans. I want the Linium, and you would too if you had any balls."

Stools scraped back as the stocky Hans faced off against the skinny figure of Harry. The soft sound of blades being drawn whispered around the table.

"They are more entertaining than I thought," Renau murmured, leaning back slightly and sipping his ale.

This was just the sort of situation that reminded Konrad that he really needed to learn how to use his sword. He brought the sting of the Cold Bite to his fingertips, wondering if a blast of freezing wind would be enough to stop someone from stabbing him.

Under the table, the shadows drew close and enveloped Spirit in darkness.

"This is my crew, and I decides what we do. How are you going to sell Linium eh? If you're going to go get involved with those dress-wearing nut jobs and their floating city, that’s your business. Me, I like gold."

Harry glanced around at the group and saw little support. "Piss on you all then," he spat and shouldered past Hans.

"What a charming man," Renau said. "If we are all agreed, create the distraction at the stroke of midnight tomorrow night."

Hans licked his lips. "Hold on, just between us, what’s this we’ve been hearing about the Linium?"

"The Linium’s all been sold, friend, by Luther," Renau said carefully.

"We heard different; we heard that Rolo found a new deposit. Him and some witch killed a dragon that was protecting it."

A change seemed to come over Renau. The muscles of his face shifted, his cheekbones were hard lines in a haunted, gaunt face. The floppy moustache didn’t look comical at all now, and his eyes stared a thousand yards as if looking past the horrors they had seen.

But it was his voice that sent chills into Konrad's heart. It was Lot’s voice, back from the abyss.

"I don’t have Linium, Hans. But what I do have is a specific set of skills that I have acquired over a long and storied career. I have killed kings, slain demons, and journeyed into the Echo itself."

The blood drained from the face of the burly Hans, and he stared wide-eyed at Renau like a man possessed.

"We’ll take the gold," he croaked.

"Midnight tomorrow night," Renau intoned.

Hans nodded and collected the cane, his crew tripping over themselves to leave the tavern.

"Renau, that was amazing," Konrad said.

"A true villain will always beat simple thuggery Konrad. The trick is to make them fear you, anything else just insults their ego. Fear works, whereas telling someone their mother is a sow will put you in a fight no matter how drunk or frightened they are. Remember that."