Free Hero for Hire by C. B. Pratt Page A

bright morning light there gleamed the faintest hint of down on the young king’s chin. Remembering back to my own chest-bursting pride in that first public sign of manhood, I pretended to ponder the question. “That’s something each man must answer for himself.”
    “You don’t choose to wear one?”
    “I fight for my living, sire,” I explained. “I don’t care to give my enemies something easily grasped. It’s why I clip my hair close as a sheered sheep.” I ran my hand over the short growth, just long enough to show black. “Besides, have you noticed how men with beards scratch all the time?”
    I mimed with both hands a thorough scratch of jawline and chin. “Like a dog scratching after fleas. Or a man digging for gold.”
    Temas grinned and pointed discreetly past my shoulder. I turned to see Phandros in the room beyond, enjoying a vigorous scrubbing with both hands among the thicket on the lower slopes of his face. He looked up and smiled in answer to our laughter without knowing the cause.
    Temas turned back to me. “I suppose it’s as my father was fond of saying, 'as bad as things are, they could always be worse. At least it isn’t raining.'” Seeing that I didn’t understand, he shrugged. “It was just something he used to say in bad times. It didn’t make much sense during droughts though.”
    “One day you’ll say it to your sons.”
    “Yes, I suppose. I imagine they’ll roll their eyes and make faces just as I did. Now I’d give anything to hear him say it one more time.”
    I didn’t want to see him grow melancholy once again. “You know,” I said, “it won’t matter what you decide about a beard. When you marry, it’s your wife that will choose for you.”
    “I don’t think so.” Temas said confidently.
    “Oh, believe me. If she says it itches, you’ll shave it off quick enough. And if she says it tickles, you’ll grow it to your knees if she likes it that way.”
    He chuckled, somewhat sadly. “You remind me. My father had a list of suitable king’s daughters. We discussed my marrying often before he grew so changed. I wonder where it has gotten to.” He turned and went inside. “Phandros, have you seen that list?”
    I inhaled a great bushel of morning air and let it out in a long sigh. Though I'd spoken confidently to Temas, I was worried. I ran through all the rumors I’ve heard lately. Business is proving to be good for a lot of us independent heroes. I hadn’t thought much of it, except the money side of things of course, but now I wondered what was really going on.
    Working outside the usual parameters of ‘I hear and obey’ had been a good move for me. But there were factors involved in going independent that you don’t understand until you are thigh-deep in new troubles. Just getting the dents beaten out of armor could eat up half my profits, or did until I bought a second-hand anvil. The vendor had thrown in half-a-dozen smithing lessons for free.
    Add in the paperwork, receipts, sub-contracting for big jobs, and funeral expenses when said sub-contractor failed to duck, and a lot of freelance heroes go back to a third-shift night watch at the local acropolis just to make it easier on themselves.
    So when business had picked up, I figured that, between the war in Troy and the accounting hassles, I was just getting the overflow. Now I wondered if there wasn’t more business because more dark forces were stirring. If that was true, did Nausicaa’s last words explain why? How far did this nightmare reach?
    I found myself scanning the sky for the harpy, not in any fearful way, but just because I wanted to see her -- it -- again. I wondered if it would burn across the sky like a comet, pale against the sunlight, but a portent of evil days to come.
     
     
     

Chapter Five
     
    Rather than a bath, which would only make more work for the disorganized household, I asked Iole for some hot water to be brought out to the stables. Of course, life being what it is,