Free The Dungeoneers by John David Anderson

remember you.”
    â€œBut they were looking for Trendle Treeband,” Colm whispered back.
    â€œFaces are harder to change than names,” Finn replied. The rogue straightened himself out, wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and tucked his knife back into his boot. He walked a few paces from the three bound men, and Colm hurried to catch up.
    â€œIs it true?” Colm asked. “Did you really cheat those men?”
    â€œIt was a long time ago.”
    â€œHe said it was only three years.”
    â€œA long time,” Finn said, taking the three swords from Colm and adding them to the pile beside the tree. Colm looked at them, licking his lips. It couldn’t hurt to ask, could it?
    â€œI don’t suppose, I could, you know . . .”
    Finn followed his gaze and then shook his head. “These are broadswords. Heavy and cumbersome. You’d be stabbed six times before you even got it out of its scabbard. When the time comes— if the time comes—we will find a weapon suited to your stature. Now.” He stretched, as if he had just woken up. “If this little detour is finished, we should be on our way. We still have a long road ahead of us.”
    Colm nodded, then looked at the three horses picking their way through the grass, loyal enough to their riders not to stray far. Colm pointed to them. “I’ve ridden horses before,” he said. “We used to have one—two, in fact—but we had to sell them. It might be faster . . .”
    â€œNo doubt it would be faster,” Finn agreed. “Except that would be stealing. Horses are neither rare nor unique, and they won’t get us anywhere that our own feet can’t. The penalty for horse thieving is almost always death, and I’ve already had one close encounter with him today. Besides, I think it best if we get off the road for a bit.”
    Colm shouldered his sack and followed Finn into the fields, glancing back with apprehension at the three half-nakedmen bound to the tree. Colm had witnessed fights before—a couple of men with too much ale in their bellies, tumbling through the dust in the village square—but he had never seen anything like that. Engineering and economics were his specialties, but it was clear that Finn Argos had spent some time mastering the blade hanging from his belt as well.
    Colm ran to catch up to the rogue. He knew he should heed his father’s advice and keep some distance, especially given what he’d just seen. Except this man with at least two names, and probably many more besides, had saved Colm’s hand and his family’s reputation. And now he had also saved Colm’s life.
    Not to mention he still had Colm’s coin.

4
THE TEST THAT WASN’T AND THE ONE THAT WAS
    T hanks to Colm’s eight sisters, most of the too-thin Candorly library was filled with fanciful tales of royal romances or tomes of flowery poetry, a few histories and several almanacs, a book of recipes, and the children’s rhymes they had all learned to read by. But Colm did have one book, given to him on his tenth birthday, that told of several hair-raising adventures undertaken by half a dozen heroes. They were bard’s tales, embellished beyond the point of believability, his father said, but Colm devoured them anyway. The stories were full of monsters and caverns and mazes punctuated with chests of gold, just the same as Finn had described. Except Colm had only read about them. Finn had survived them.
    Or so he said.
    â€œSo if there are so many dungeons, and so much treasureto be had from them,” Colm asked, “how come there aren’t more people like you?”
    â€œIt’s not a profession for just anyone,” Finn said, picking his way through the clinging brambles that multiplied with every step, the farther they strayed from the road; Colm’s arms were already etched with tiny scratches. “Long hours. Cramped working conditions.