“A mile to the east from here…” Torus offered. “…there lies a tavern, a sorry unkempt place. Sell-swords and mercenaries throng there. Hire the services of one, one who knows the city of Sidusca well.”
“I… if I must.” Iola bit her lip with uncertainty. “But I haven’t any…”
“Here.” Torus held a small leather pouch to her. “Six pieces of gold, their usual price for three days work.”
Iola took the pouch and hefted its weight. Her mind was conflicted, but she knew that she had to do this. Her grandfather was all the family she had. And there was also something else that drove her, something she couldn’t quite grasp right then.
“And be wary of the mercenary you choose.” The chieftain called out to her as she walked away from his great hall. “Most are no different from the cut-purses they offer to protect you from.”