Dhamon was at his side, wearing a green leather vest, dark and embellished with an intricate leaf pattern. It was laced across the front, but was open enough to reveal the muscles of his chest. His trousers were short, ending at mid-thigh and made of a tightly woven canvas dyed black. Dhamon was making no attempt to hide the scale on his leg. His cloak was made of an olive-hued reptile hide, thin and supple. His hair had been trimmed a little shorter, just below his jawline, and his face was clean-shaven. A long sword hung from a tooled black leather scabbard, and Dhamon kept one hand on the pommel as he walked. The other hand had a bandage wrapped around it.
"I am glad you changed your mind," Maldred said to Dhamon.
"I haven't… exactly." Dhamon had explained to Maldred a few minutes ago about his question to the sword and the vision it gave him of the swamp.
"Nevertheless, I'm glad you're coming with us-even though it was Wyrmsbane that apparently convinced you."
Dhamon shrugged. "I'll come with you for a time."
Maldred glanced at the sword. "Until it gives you more information?"
Dhamon nodded. "The sword hints that I need to journey into the swamp. And I'd rather do that with company. Aye, at least for a time. So I'm swallowing my words. I'll help you with the mines first. And then we'll part company, and I'll pursue my own quest."
Maldred lowered his voice when he caught Rig watching them. "We'll not be parting company, my friend. I am with you to the end. We will find a remedy for that scale that vexes you. So after the mines, with or without the fair Solamnic at my side, I'll follow wherever that sword might lead you."
Dhamon caught the mariner's stare, then pivoted so he faced away from Rig. "We'll discuss this sword and where it might lead later…"
"When we're far from Donnag," Maldred finished.
"Aye, I fear he will seek retaliation."
"His lordship will do nothing at all to you," Maldred said. "He'll not raise a hand against you. But he'll likely never make another deal with you."
"That is a certainty on my part."
"In any event, Donnag and I had several long talks over the past two days-while Grim Kedar was summoned on and off to tend to him. About how you had the sword you wanted, and he had his life. About keeping one's word, and the price for deceiving others."
Dhamon raised an eyebrow.
"He deceived me too, my friend. Wolves. Hah!" Maldred grinned slyly. "And if he wants to keep our friendship, leaving you alone is the price."
"He is full of lies." Dhamon's voice was flat. He was watching Donnag out of the corner of his eye. The ogre chieftain was parading in front of his mercenaries again.
Maldred softly chuckled. "Well, here's one lie you'll find amusing. He told Grim he tumbled down the stairs in his manse and broke his jaw. And Donnag told his guards the same tale." Maldred reached up and fingered a platinum chain that hung about his neck and extended under his leather tunic. There was a bulge on his chest, where the Sorrow of Lahue was nested. "It wouldn't do for the ruler of all of Blode to admit to being tromped by a lowly human."
"Still," Dhamon began, "I'll feel better away from here."
Maldred slapped his friend on the back. "And what of Rikali?"
"She's still mending at Grim's. The injuries she suffered from the fall were evidently worse than I thought. She'll be there another few days."
"And does she know you're not waiting, that you're leaving with us?"
Dhamon nodded. "Aye. And she's not too happy about it."
Maldred's expression clouded. "Does she know you're not coming back?"
Dhamon knew from a brief conversation with Rig that the half-elf had drifted in and out of consciousness on her return trip to Bloten and wasn't aware Dhamon had left her behind. Rig hadn't told her, apparently considering the whole matter none of his business. Dhamon visited with her late last night at the ogre healer's, and told her he would see her when they returned to Bloten from their trip into the swamp.
"No," he answered. "She doesn't know. And at least I don't have to worry about her following us. She hates the notion of slogging through a swamp."
"To the bottom layer of the Abyss with you, Dhamon Grimwulf," Rig whispered. The mariner had crept close enough to hear the last bit of their conversation.
The swamp closed about them. It was muggy, hot, and stifling, and though what little they could see of the sky was notably overcast, it was devoid of the rain that was continuing to batter the mountains. Fiona struggled to stay in step with the ogres. Her Solamnic armor made her miserable. Still, she refused to remove it. Not even Mal-dred could convince her.
Their lungs felt saturated with the heady fragrance of lianas mingled with the fetid odor of stagnant pools. Hundreds of eyes watched them-snakes that dripped like vines from cypress branches, bright red and yellow parrots that flitted down from high above to pass just above their heads before disappearing again in the foliage.
