The Bounty

Tr’loh Zrall straightened his short stack of coin until every edge perfectly aligned with each other while shifting his feet… again… trying, one more time, to find a section of floor not covered in sticky, spilled ale. Tr’loh had trekked across the realm seeking the name of the so-called fortuneteller named in the bounty, and now that he sat across the game table from Slim Banthel, his old rival, Tr’loh knew this was his last chance. Bounties like this don’t come every day, and Tr’loh’s boss didn’t forgive failure easily.
Tr’loh shoved the last of his coin into the pot. “All in.”
Slim raised a caterpillar eyebrow. “That’s sure of yourself, old friend?” He chuckled and looked at his own hand. “Match and raise.” He shoved in an equal amount of coin and several more besides. Then, he smirked.
Tr’loh kept his face expressionless from years of experience. “What will you take in return for matching that bet?”
“I think a favor from you would do nicely. Don’t you think?” Slim Banthel chuckled again. “We used to work so well together. I miss it. Yes, I think you owing me a favor would do quite nicely.” Slim rubbed his portly belly and smiled wide, showing off his tombstone-like teeth.
The last thing Tr’loh wanted to do was work with Slim again. Slim Banthel was a scorpion who wouldn’t hesitate to sting you if you were ever foolish enough to trust him. “If I win, you owe me a name. If I lose, I owe you a favor.”
“A name, eh? You know that information doesn’t come cheap.”
“I win, a name and a favor for you. I lose, a favor for you. Deal?” Tr’loh pulled his feet from the sticky floor again.
“Deal.”
Both men laid their cards on the table. Tr’loh groaned.
Slim laughed and climbed to his feet. “Ha. This is just like old times. I’ll see you in the morning. I expect to have fun collecting that favor.” Then, Slim swept all the coins into his pouch and lumbered out the door.
Tr’loh sat there blinking for a moment as the revelry in the tavern carried on around him—both close enough to jostle his chair where he sat and far enough away to never reach him. There had to be another way. Tr’loh wasn’t the most successful bounty hunter in the realm for nothing. He narrowed his eyes and followed Slim Banthel out of the tavern.
He followed the cocky man down the lane, through shadow and moonlight. When Slim neared the docks, Tr’loh spotted his chance and took it.
When his back hit the worn wood walls of the warehouse, Slim squealed like a stuck pig before Tr’loh slapped his hand across Slim Banthel’s maw. “Now listen here, Slim. You know I honor my bets, but I need that name. And you’re going to give it to me if you know what’s good for you.” Tr’loh eased his hand off of Slim’s mouth.
“Why is this so important to you? What name are you looking for?” Eyes glimmering in the moonlight, Slim was always eager for information.
“You know who I work for. This person is important to him.”
Slim gulped and nodded. “Who is it?”
“She’s a swindler... a trickster… She pretends to be a fortuneteller named Madame Kisme. She works with a boy who pretends to be her nephew. She was last seen in this part of the realm a few weeks ago. Rumor has—”
“I know you you’re talking about. You are welcome to her name. She got away with something of mine. I’ll give you her name with pleasure. I ask for one thing in return.” Slim’s voice betrayed his glee at the proceedings. “Tell her hello from me when you take her down.”
A sharp not from Tr’loh and the deal was struck. “The name?”
“Daezin Amarantin.”
Tr’loh Zrall strode away under the cool moonlight, boots whispering against the worn timbers of the docks. The bounty was his and, now that he had her name, nothing would stop him from finding her.