“But you did offend, and you’ve demonstrated that you have no idea how to relate to me. A lot of guys are like me, Mark. Yes, you make the Guild run, but you lack the elemental understanding of what makes mercs tick, probably because you never were one. If I wanted to endorse you, which I don’t, I’d have to defend my position before the Guild, which I find difficult under the circumstances.”

He chewed on that for a long minute. “Fair enough. So you’ll vote for the Horsemen then?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Thank you for seeing me.” Mark got up and left.

The door had barely had a chance to swing open before Bob shouldered his way in and dropped into one of the chairs around the table. Ivera followed, uneasy, watching me.

Bob was the leader of the Horsemen. If our world had spawned any veteran gladiators, he would be one of them. He was on the other side of forty and built with that mature strength and endurance that would make him a tough opponent even for people half his age. He might not be as fast as he used to be, but he had plenty of experience and he used it. Ivera was a tall, large Hispanic woman. She was nasty in a fight and a firebug—fire mage—on top of it.

The other two members of the Horsemen remained outside. Ken, a Hungarian mage, measured out words like they were gold and Juke, well, Juke was barely twenty and made up for her lack of experience in natural viciousness and a hot temper. She was fast and she liked to talk trash. I understood the urge. I liked to talk trash too, but twenty-year-old me would’ve chewed Juke up and spat her out.

I looked at the two veterans. “What can I do for you?”

Bob leaned forward. The chair creaked and I almost winced. He was a big guy and the chair was none too sturdy.

“I’ll come right to the point,” he said. “Solomon was one of us. A merc. A working stiff.”

“Actually, Solomon only worked as a merc for the first three years after forming the Guild, and given that he’s been underground for a few months, we can drop ‘working’ from his description.”

Bob plowed ahead. “All the same, he knew what it’s like to be out in the field. He knew how to take care of the guys. The man had a heart, unlike that prick. He’ll bleed us dry if we let him.”

“By ‘that prick’ you mean Mark?”

“Who else?”

I nodded. “Just checking.”

Bob knocked on my desk with his scarred knuckles, making a point. “That pencil neck wants to run the Guild. Between the four of us, we’ll do better. Someone’s got to look out for the guys.”