Bright sunshine flooded the room in which Dumar lay, highlighting lazily drifting dust motes which were batted around by the gentle breeze blowing in through the open window. The big mancast his glance around the room to find nothing had changed, swung his feet to the cool stone floor and stood to dress, donning the same set of clothing he had worn the previous evening.
He looked through the drawers in the large chest that stood at his bedside and found a number of belts from which he managed to fashion a makeshift holster for the semi-automaticwhich he then strapped to his side.
Dumar made his way to the large hall where he had been confronted by the lizard like creature, M'thar. Striding through the doorway Dumar crossed the room to the table at which M'thar sat now and dropped himself into the chair opposite,
"Morning," he said in a bright tone of voice.
The lizard like creature stared blankly at his new companion for a few seconds before replying.
"And to you," M'thar took a deep breath before he added. "I believe I owe you an apology."
"For?" Dumar asked with some surprise and a raised eyebrow.
"My father told me some of the things he had subjected you to after you left last night," he rasped, "I should not have been as... threatening."
Dumar considered that for a moment, if he was going to find out what had happened to him he needed some sources of information and alienating this creature was probably not the best idea.
"Well I had just dumped your old man on the floor and as you had no idea about me, I'm sure I'd have acted in pretty much the same way," the big man smiled. "And I'd just munched my way through your food."
"If you wish to continue in the same vein," M'thar offered with a gesture at the table. "Please help yourself to my breakfast also."
Once his outward appearance was taken out of the equation, M'thar seemed to be an intelligent and pleasant person, Dumar thought.
"Now you're talking," the big man stated as he began the process of filling his stomach.
Grethron entered through the wooden door which, apparently, led to the rest of the building and made his way across to the seated pair. Looking from one to the other he observed.
"Well, the atmosphere is decidedly improved in here this morning," he seated himself next to Dumar and looked at M'thar. "Your waif is assisting Sherilee in the kitchen for now, have you any idea what you are going to do with him?"
"No," M'thar growled shortly.
Grethron decided not to pursue the matter and turned to Dumar.
"How are you feeling this morning?"
"Acceptable, thanks. How's the chin?" Dumar spoke in a tone which indicated, in no uncertain terms, that he had no interest whatsoever in the condition of the old man's chin.
An uncomfortable silence followed before Grethron spoke again.
"Well I had already planned to have all my beard hairs pulled out simultaneously," the old man stated with a completely straight face. "So thank you for the assistance," he allowed a small smile to play at the corners of his mouth.
Dumar grunted a small laugh and M'thar shook his head.
"I wish to apologise for attempting to mislead you last night," Grethron admitted. "It should not have happened and will not occur again."
"Okay," Dumar said in a lighter tone of voice. "Now you've both said you're sorry we can all be friends," the big man decided to try and glean some information from this situation. "So what's your plan?"
Grethron's eyes widened slightly for an instant before he regained control of himself.
Dumar noticed.
"What plan do you mean, Dumar?" The old man asked.
"Whatever plan you've got in mind for me," Dumar picked up a purple coloured fruit, took a small bite and was pleasantly surprised to find it was very much like an orange but without the segments. He fixed the old man with a dead stare. "You must have brought me here for a reason," Dumar added. "What is it?"
Grethron poured himself some water and took a deep drink before casting a glance towards M'thar, he took a deep breath and rumbled his answer.
"I have to stop my brother, Malthrom, from invading this continent, slaughtering as many people as he can and enslaving the rest. Your part in all this would be to assist me in killing him," Dumar was taken aback at the statement.
Not due to the content – he recalled a similar conversation with the old man when he had awoken eight days earlier – however it was the absolute truth of the statement that shocked him.
"Concise," was the only thing Dumar could think of to say.
"Of course there are quite a few more tasks to be undertaken before we get anywhere near that final outcome."
"Tasks?" Dumar wondered.
Grethron nodded.
"I have a number of things I need to take care of in the lead up to any final confrontation. I would be grateful if you were to accompany me. It would give you the opportunity to gain all the answers to the questions you must have."
Dumar considered this point for a second.
"What if I say no?" He asked.
Grethron made a face and sighed deeply.
"If you decline? We will have to try and find some other way to do what needs to be done. However it is my hope you will accompany me and the things you witness, the people you meet, might convince you to come to our aid."
"Yeah, but what happens to me if I say no?" Dumar wondered as he detected the tempting aroma of freshly baked pastries.
The angular faced woman, Sherilee, approached carrying a tray laden with food enough to serve all of them. Trailing behind her like a lost puppy, was the youth Dumar had seen sleeping the previous night.
He was painfully thin, almost emaciated, with extremely pale skin and large brown eyes that darted nervously around the room not staying on one fixed point for more than a few seconds.
Dumar could detect the musty scent of animals emanating from the boy and wondered at his condition as he was very obviously uncared for. Grethron held one finger up as the pair approached to indicate he would continue the conversation momentarily.
"How fares your new apprentice, Sherilee?" The old man asked while staring pointedly at M'thar with an almost amused expression.
Sherilee's feline features altered into a barely concealed grimace as she answered.
"Vilt has little talent for the culinary arts," she stated bluntly. "I did, however, discover an amazing thing about the boy you may wish to know."
With a sceptical expression across his face Grethron asked her.
"And what would that be, Sherilee?"
Dumar wondered if his intonation and rhyming of the woman's name were accidental or if the old man was intentionally mocking her for some reason.
"He has a singing voice the likes of which I have never heard, my lord," she answered with no hint of umbrage in her tone.