Brimstone Angels by Erin M. Evans Page A

spy.
    A virtuous spy—relatively. Harpers served no government, and it was widely believed one had in fact assassinated the king of Tethyr ages ago. It was also widely believed the organization had collapsed not long after. Brin thought about what the disembodied voice had said—“Harpers not so rich as Viridi.” So Tam hadn’t always spied for the Harpers, then. New enough to be unsure about protocols, old-hand enough to demand what he wanted. Interesting.
    Tam looked out across the courtyard, scanning the wagons and crowds as if looking for someone, but not venturing from their shared hiding spot. Brin frowned—how long was the priest going to be? Brin needed to find the dragonborn and—
    Brin cursed. There was Mehen, storming past the gap between the two wagons, fearsome-looking as ever. Brin couldn’t very well spring past Tam and not expect trouble.
    But then Torm or Selûne or Lady Luck, Tymora herself, smiled down, and Tam’s hand shot out and grabbed the dragonborn’s thick upper arm.
    “Hold, friend.”
    Mehen turned and bared his yellow teeth. “What do you want?”
    Tam smiled, at perfect ease. “Well met to you as well.” He held out a hand. “The name is Tam.”
    Mehen ignored the hand. “Mehen.”
    Tam frowned, looking surprised at that, and Brin wished he knew why. Mehen stared the priest down.
    “You’re the one who saved the caravan earlier. You and the tieflings.”
    “We did what we could.”
    “You turned the tide,” Tam said. “I, for one, am grateful for that. Are you heading to Neverwinter?”
    Mehen shrugged. “North. We’re tracking someone.”
    “Through Neverwinter at least?” When Mehen gave another shrug, he added, “I’ll not lie to you, I’m looking for a few extra swords.”
    “We’re not traveling with your caravan, priest.”
    Tam smiled. “It’s not my caravan, and I don’t belong to it any longer. I need to get to the city more quickly than they can travel. I don’t dare go on my own. I was hoping I might hire your services.”
    Mehen folded his arms across his chest. “You hire me, you hire my girls.”
    “The tieflings?”
    “The same. So I put that to you, priest: are you certain you wish to travel with a pair of ‘devil-children’ and a godless dragonborn?”
    “Depends on what you’re charging,” Tam said. “If you think you’ll shock me with tieflings and unbelievers, I’ve seen things that are much stranger and much worse. I’ll give you two gold pieces for an escort to Neverwinter.”
    Mehen scratched his empty piercings. He’d be a fool not to take it, Brin thought. Two gold for an escort to a place he was traveling near anyway, why not? Two gold for taking on another weapon, really.
    Brin thought of the way the priest had waded into the fray, that chain slashing through the air with grim accuracy. It would make more sense for Mehen to pay Tam.
    “On one condition,” Mehen warned. “You leave my girls alone. You so much as frighten them and—”
    “None of that,” Tam said gently. “I’m no young idiot full of spleen and holy fire. You and I are more of a kind than I am to that sort. My days of fervent conversion are long past, and my soul is old enough to have more stains on it than your charges’. At least, consider it.”
    Mehen was silent a long moment. “I’ll consider it.”
    “In the morning then,” Tam said. They shook hands once more, and Mehen made his way back across the courtyard to question another group of travelers that had just rolled in.
    Perfect, Brin thought. So perfect he thanked every god he could think of and swore he’d leave offerings in as many temples as he could find. He struggled to his feet, shoved the whiskey bottle in his haversack and stepped out, just as Tam was hoisting his own bag to his shoulder.
    “Well met. Harper Tam,” he added with a little pleasure.
    Tam started and stared at Brin. “Well,” he said, after a moment. “The piper who’s no piper. You’re a quiet one, aren’t