Free The White Dragon by Salvador Mercer Page B

newly carved headstone. I don’t see any way around it.”
    Mary finished her work and gathered her supplies from a tray that was on the floor. She moved the tray to a nearby dresser, setting it down and then moving to take a seat on the edge of the bed before she spoke up. “I’m afraid I have to agree with your associate; you’re stuck between the cheese and the cat.”
    Eric chuckled, as did the other two men. The proverbial saying was an old one, with the cheese mounted on a trap and a cat waiting there were only two options for a wayward mouse, and both spelled doom.
    “Well, this mouse isn’t going out without a fight.” Eric nodded, wincing again as the stitches pulled on his wound.
    “I told you that you’ll need to keep your head straight for a couple of days or you’ll pull them out again,” Mary said, referring to her stitches that she had to redo for the second straight time in a single day.
    “I’m afraid you can’t do this alone, fight or no fight left in you.” Lucius walked over to stand near Eric so the man didn’t have to turn his neck to see him.
    Eric let the words sink in, and he looked intently at Mary, who was now sitting directly across from him. Lucius was just to his left, and within his field of vision as well. Only Diamedes was behind him over his right shoulder where the intricately hand-carved desk was located. Eric spoke loudly so the historian could hear him. “What do you say, Diamedes?”
    The historian cleared his throat before answering. “I have to agree with your colleague. He seems to understand your predicament. However . . .”
    There was a long pause, and Eric could see both Mary and Lucky looking past him in anticipation. “Go on.” Eric took the bait, something any sane mouse would never do.
    “You only really have one option in this matter. Not vindicating yourself will leave you at the mercy of the justiciar. The man is good, but all of the duke’s lawkeepers are busy these days and he’ll be sorely pressed not to rule in the magistrate’s favor, at least on some of the charges, if not the most severe ones.”
    Lucius chimed in. “The royal historian understands the situation clearly.”
    “Yes,” Diamedes continued. “The consequences could be imprisonment, banishment, and exile—”
    “Or death,” Lucius interrupted.
    “In the extreme.” The small historian gave some context to the remark. “Either way, your future will be suspect at the least.”
    “Which leads us to what other option?” Eric said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
    Diamedes nodded, which Eric couldn’t see, but the nodding heads of his companions was enough to relay the gesture to the mercenary. “You must prove what you said and succeed.”
    “Easier said than done,” Eric said, his tone not losing a bit of the sarcasm and cynicism from his first remark.
    “Quite right,” Diamedes answered. “The key to my last remark was that you must not only prove your statement but you must succeed, which means living through another encounter with your white dragon.”
    Lucius snorted and shook his head, resuming his pacing. Mary sat stunned, looking from the historian to Eric and then back again. Finally Eric spoke, “I lost my entire company to that beast. Two of the best warriors this side of the Felsics—”
    “Forstag was the best, not one of the best,” Lucius interrupted, a trait that seemed to not go unnoticed by the historian.
    “Then you must gather together new resources, better warriors, and something special to combat the creature,” Diamedes said.
    “Like I said, easy to say, hard to do,” Eric said, not moving his neck, but his veins started to pulse and rise quicker at the stress of their conversation.
    Diamedes put his equipment down and walked over to the bed, nodding at Mary, who patted the mattress next to her. “Thank you, my dear,” the historian said, taking a seat next to her and facing Eric. “Surely you know people who can assist you?”
    Lucius