Nigel began to stroke his short, neatly trimmed beard and for awhile he said nothing. Eomore stood and walked over to the bars. Nigel remained seated on the cot. After about three minutes he said, “You ask me to leave a certain meal and a dry bed to undertake a Deathquest and offer me a forsaken spot of land if I succeed. Who are the other fools who serve themselves as though they were lambs being led to the slaughter?”
Eomore faced him. “I will lead the party. The mage Roscoe will lend his great powers to our efforts. Knarra the high priestess will accompany. The elven prince Vannelei, Deron the dwarven swordsman, the physician Sedoar, an elven girl Cara, Tjol Bergin – a tried warrior, and several of my strongest and most skilled rangers will make up the group attempting to follow the raiders.”
“A fickle magician, a holy head, two long-eared freaks, a sawbones, an idiot, and a prince – a motly crew to go on a Deathquest. Yet you must know that my greatest weakness is my love of my ability to go where I choose when I choose. I will say in advance that I will perform my ‘duties’ to the best of my abilities, because my own life will likely be in jeopardy. I will also say that from what you have told me, we are all fools and have little chance of success and better chance of death. Death, however, is the better alternative only when compared to two other things – marriage and imprisonment. I will not question your command unless you try to do my job and do it incorrectly. But I don’t expect any of this bowing and ‘my Lord’ stuff – that is not my ilk. I agree to your terms, Prince, and I know the strength of your word. I’m glad the tables aren’t turned so that I don’t have to trust myself,” Nigel added.
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