Prologue

Weary and muddied from the road, Agatha Grunt climbed stiffly down from her donkey. Wincing, she stretched and twisted some sensation back into her arse and legs. Gods, but she was getting too old for this. A cart would be a good investment, if money ever allowed for it.

She cast an experienced eye up and down main road through the village of St Plumbus. It looked more or less like every other village in the Eastmarch. Buildings of timber, brick and render surrounded a modest marketplace which stretched down to a bridge where the road continued ever onwards. Once again she was thankful that there was no shortage of places like this where she remained unknown, even though she had by necessity spent her life moving from one to the next.

"What's the plan?" came a voice from behind her.

Agatha sighed deeply and pinched her brow. Again? Gods grant me patience, on her better days my apprentice is at best a quarter-wit.

"The same as last time, Miss Twiglet, and the several times before that. I’m not repeating myself again."

There were two inns on the market place. Appraising them for her needs did not take long.

The Six Pigs was a smart red-brick building, stood proudly alongside the Village Hall at the very top of the hill. Neatly clipped low hedges defined small formal gardens each side of the front door, beside which stood a guard. He wore a doublet on which was neatly embroidered the eponymous six pigs. The Dodo, by comparison a long, low timber affair that slouched rather than stood at the very bottom of the market, was neighboured by the village's smellier industries. Ezra Chum's Budget Tannery was to one side and Mrs Dough's Wash-house - No Clothes Too Dirty to the other. Even from this distance Agatha could see that the Dodo's sign had like been painted by someone who had never before seen a brush let alone a Dodo and the sounds of a raucous gathering drifted through the open windows. It was an easy decision.

"Go and get us some rooms and stabling at the Six Pigs, Belinda. I'm going to The Dodo."

Agatha had been to many villages like St Plumbus, to many taverns like The Dodo, and raised many a group of enthusiastic followers from deep within their cups. If all went well in a few days time she would lead such a group north, back to the Ruined City, and her unsettled scores.

And there they would remain until her supporters dwindled beyond usefulness through retirement, injury or worse, at which point she would head back into the Eastmarch and find the next village where her reputation was as yet unknown and begin all over again.