If you read this much, would you want to finish the story?

Ikaid stared over the top of the wax cards of varied nobility’s and across the table at the garish fop. He debated. He had a strong hand. Yet much of his money was lost, most to the dandy. This morning he did not think he would find himself in this dilemma. He had turned in a poacher and collected the bounty. True it filled his purse with more copper coins than silver but it was still no mean amount.

Road lean and weary he had rented a room at the Riverside Haven. The locals commonly referred to it as The Rats’ Nest. It was a place of poor repute where it is said anything could be bought or sold. Rumors had it the constable-received bribes to ignore all but the most abhorrent of crimes. The dandies, such as the Harper across the table, came early in the evening to be daring and scandalous. They would be long gone before the true rouges menaced the hall.

He wondered about the hand that the Harper held. As usual he got no clues from studying his face. The Harper, who was called Thyis, was busy wheedling news from the other card players. The swarthy off duty guardsman with mismatched eyes told him of the recent scandals within the palace. A roving knight whom looked more the role of a rogue to Ikaid, spoke little but did indicate that he was recently in Kallamon and was now headed Rindells way. The riverboat captain needed no encouragement to talk and groused about everything from the new taxes to the drought that all but choke off river travel.

Thyis annoyed Ikaid greatly. A more worldly man would have shown concern with the attention the growing wealth before him might attract. Instead he chatted, smoked, and drank excessively. He wore an overly ornate stiletto in the current courtesan fashion, which would make it difficult to draw. His rapier carelessly hung across the back of the chair. Ikaid thought that if this were a man that he hunted he would take him swiftly. Yet much of his money was collected in a pile before him. If nothing else Thyis was a damn good card player.

Ikaid regarded his hand again. ‘Bivouac’ it was called, three workers, two warriors. He slid a gold ring from his finger and added it to the growing mound of coins in the center of the table. Then he laid his cards down. The guardsman cursed and tossed his cards down, as did the knight. Thyis laid his hand down with a flourish. ‘Dragons nest.’ The Riverboat Captain to his left, whom had already folded, grumbled something about water flowing to the well. Thyis gathered the latest winnings.

“Well played!” Ikaid quaffed the last of his ale; setting the empty stein down with an audible thud he slid his chair back from the table. ‘Too bloody well played he thought!’ If Thyis was cheating he hadn’t caught him. He headed for the outer room which lead to the stairs and the room he wisely had already paid for. The night of cards, drinking, and whoring would be spent only in cards.

“Ikaid wait” Thyis called. Ikaid turned to see the Harper rushing to join him, the bulging purse carelessly swinging in one hand and the sword dangerously spinning from the belt in the other. The sword spun between the rushing Harpers legs and sent him hurling. Ikaid caught the stumbling Harper with one hand and the half unsheathed rapier with the other. “Bad omen that! Ikaid nodded at the sword. “To fall from the scabbard will bring death!” He examined the swept hilt rapier as Thyis collected the spilt coins. The rapiers gilded hilt was flaking and the blade had patches of rust. He slid the blade into the scabbard with disgust.

“Here, hold it like this.” Ikaid held the belt tight to the scabbard just below the hilt. Thyis took the sword from Ikaid and bowed deeply. “I am in your debt Sir!” Thyis flashed an impudent smile. Then added, “Let me buy you a drink.”

“I buy my own drinks!” Ikaid turned to leave “Indeed, and mine as well.” Thyis shook the bulging purse. Ikaid momentarily toyed with the idea of driving his fist into the smirking harpers face. Pride being what it is he normally would not have accepted Thyis offer. However there was some truth in what the Thyis said as the money that now bulge Thyis’s wallet once filled his own. Besides, when one is thirsty does it truly matter where the drinks come from?

The evening passed at a pleasant pace with Thyis buying drinks and more of those smoking sticks he favored over pipes. Ikaid’s glass was never empty for long. Thyis, ever the congenial host, regaled those about him with witty stories that held the listeners in suspense or fits of laughter. Ikaid found himself liking Thysis despite his earlier disdain for the careless Harper.

When Ikaid called for another story he was surprised to be the subject of the tale. The tale was full of enough adventure, truth, and appropriate fiction to be entertaining and flattering with out being pandering. Ikaid remembered the actual events well. He had cornered the Estimina in an abandoned quarry and came away from the encounter with a nasty scare on his cheek, three broken ribs, numerous lacerations, and one corpse.

“Did I accurately tell your tale?” Thysis asked with genuine harper interest. “Near enough.” Ikaid said, still overwhelmed from hearing an epic tale that centered about him.

“What were the toughest bounties you ever collected? “ Ikaid regale Thysis with his many adventures. The thought that Thysis might retell these stories pleased Ikaid immensely.

“Has no one ever eluded you?” The harper asked in admiration.

“No one,” Ikaid said with pride. “I am the best and once I have a trail I never loose my quarry.” This was no boast, merely a statement of fact.

“What of Lief de Sharu Envar? Could you catch him?”

“The Thieving Ghost,” Ikaid snorted. “I doubt that there is one such as him. A myth made real by superstitious peasants. “

“But, for the sake of arguments, if he were real, could you capture him?” Thysis pressed.

“I am the best tracker there is. Diyon Ayt the ‘Hell Hound’ taught me himself. If there is a man behind the myth of Lief de Sharu Envar, I would catch him.”

“I believe you would.” Thysis said. Then, as an after thought Thysis asked. “Say, who taught Diyon Ayt the ‘Hell Hound’ the art of tracking?” Ikaid was taken aback by this question. He had never considered that the great tracker Diyon Ayt had once himself had a teacher. The question, asked in jest stayed with him the remainder of the night. The evening passed into early morn and the void of drunken sleep.

Ikaid woke late in the afternoon. He found himself in his room with no memory of returning the night before. A vaguely remembered whore was still in the bed. She stirred and smiled up at him. She spoke complimentary nonsense as he made for the washbasin and drowned his pounding head in the tepid water. Ikaid stood swaying and regarded the woman. She was nondescript, neither pretty nor unattractive. But what he could remember of the night she was talented and she threw her self into her work. What was she still doing here? She must expect to get paid for a night of service.

“I don’t know what I told you last night, but I haven’t the money to pay you.” Ikaid stated flatly. He expected a tantrum, a screaming fit, or her to leave in a huff. A dozen scenarios ran through his head. None came close. She held up the covers in invitations. Ikaid was never one to refuse a lady.

The morning grew late when Ikaid finally headed down the stairs. His head throb with less frequency and severity now. Of more immediate concern was his next meal. He had little money left and needed to make it last. Perhaps he could work for his meal, or trade some of his possession’s that weren’t lost in the pervious night s gambling.

Ikaid entered the common room to find it filled with an excited buzz. It seemed that the palace was broken into the night before. How the thief got in was a matter of speculation. How the thief exited was not. He was chased from the keep across treacherous tile roofs to the middle bailey where he leapt into the lake far below. Beneath a highflying moon the thief was seen swimming for the northern shore.

Of more importance was that a substantial reward was placed on the thief’s head, and the return of the local royalties jewels. Ikaid went back to his room and gathered his belongings. He had not the funds to pay for another night stay in any case. With a few minutes bartering he traded a few baubles for some road rations. A bounty hunter was but a criminal away from riches, and he was the best.