“So, that’s what he’s after?” Gregor sounded doubtful.
Nodding, Danir placed the item back into his satchel. “He’ll bring the fires of Hell upon any that try to keep it from him.”
Gregor had had too much drink in Henbury, and it showed. “Bah! Tell’im
to see me!” he raised his bony fist. “I’ll send’im packin’!”
“Shush, you fool!”
Gregor waved him off, but had obeyed.
Dropping to his bedroll, Danir wondered if Gregor had been the right choice of companion; either way, it was too late now.
“Get some rest,” he whispered.
Gregor, already passed out, farted in reply.
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