A Dream of Honor

V.

Wymund was horrible at small talk. Throughout their journey, Odde tried many times to strike up some friendly banter to no avail. His vocabulary was limited to acknowledging grunts and stony glares. Reasonable, she supposed, since he was traveling with the woman that stole from his mother, but it made for an awkward trip all the same. The least he could do was offer her some of the bread he was eating.

In short, the rest of the journey to Herebor was quiet and tense. They didn't sleep, both too suspicious of the other to lay enough faith for such a thing. Odde spent the better half of her time plotting how she was going to get rid of this guy before reaching Hawkin's palace. Murder wasn't her style - stealing a man's fortune, fine, but his life? She wasn't that far gone. Her people dealt in business rather than blood. Blood was an assassin's playground.

So if it wasn't outright murder that would get rid of him, what would it be? She would need a plan before reaching Herebor to stop him from asking questions. She could weasel her way out of many things, but the interrogation that would follow a detour to Herebor when Arvendon Palace was in Weskund was not something she could excuse.

The idea came to her as the high, familiar stilts of Herebor drifted into view. A thief deals in deceit, not blood, she recalled the guildmaster's words. As they rose over the hill and towards the murky waters of Herebor, a faint smirk flickered across Odde's plump lips.

"This is not Weskund," Wymund observed, narrowing his eyes and slowing his pace. "I am unfamiliar with Terathune. What is this place?"

"This, my dear, is Herebor." She held her arms out as if presenting the city to him. "Glorious, beautiful Herebor."

The warrior wrinkled his nose. She noticed how youthful his appearance truly was, and wondered how old he was. "It reeks of fish."

Odde let her arms fall and rolled her eyes. "Well, it's atop a lake. What do you expect?"

He paused for a moment, analyzing what laid before him on the horizon. "Is this your... ghisline? Your mother-town?"

"Is this where I'm from? Yes," she answered.

"It is foreign." His tone held something other than his usual disinterest. He was thoughtful, a slight tilt to his head, and a soft ring to his voice. "My ghisline has buildings of sandstone, with great tapestries wielding the heraldry of the ruling House Kondros. The days are searingly hot and the nights are overwhelmingly cold. The only water we see comes from the precious few wells. Soldiers and merchants travel on the backs of comellik - great beasts with humps on their backs. Not unlike your people's horses."

Odde blinked at him. She had never heard of a comellik nor a House Kondros. "Which town would that be?" she inquired.

"Jakhana." The word came proud from his thick, dark lips.

"If you love your home so much, what brought you and your mother to Terathune?" The ground beneath her feet was soggy and made squelching noises with each step they took. Mud stained her feet a dirty brown.

"That isn't your business."

Odde held her hands up in surrender. "Predictably."

The remainder of the trek to Herebor was in silence, nothing but the squelching of their feet trudging through mud to accompany them. The portcullis stood raised when they reached it, open to traveler's and denizens alike. The smell of fish was potent and familiar, mingled with smoking meat and damp wood. The bridge creaked when Odde and her companion walked across it and into the city.

Herebor lacked the diversity of Termhes. There was little to be had here for traveling merchants. Citizens were dressed in woolen shifts or otherwise modest attire - that or leather armor akin to Odde's own. She recognized one of her people leaning against a pillar, arms crossed firmly over his sternum. They exchanged a tight nod when they locked eyes, but no more.