There was nothing left of the Mad Badger save the stones that made up its foundation. Hobbling slowly, Heathbrand picked his way through the charred piles of rubble. The leeches said he should not be out of sickbed: they said that it was a miracle that a wound such as he had taken had not bled him dry. It mattered not. Tom Moss lay in one of the boxes that littered the square of Archet and Heathbrand Mercer searched for some token of what had once been their friendship.
A rustling came from beneath the remains of the cellar door and a sooty figure immerged, knife in hand and a half-filled sack flung over his shoulder. When he saw Heathbrand, the looter uttered a strangled growl and dropping his sack, grabbed Heathbrand's cloak and put his knife to his throat.
"Where's the strongbox to this place? I ain't found nothin' but trash...an' a few buttons."
"Buttons?" It took all of Heathbrand's strength to stay upright against the man's grip.
"Aye...shiny enough...but worth nothin'." The looter let go of Heathbrand and reached into his pocket, holding up a copper cloak-clasp. Heathbrand recognized it as part of a guardsman's cloak-of Tom's cloak. He turned a steely gaze into the looter's feverish eyes.
"If you were from Archet you'd know that Old Bert never kept his gold at the Inn here. Only a few of us knew his hiding place."
"Gold?" The knife pressed into Heathbrand's throat. "Tell me.."
Heathbrand steadied himself against falling in spite of the pain that rose from the inside of his leg to his gut. "If you give me that clasp, I will tell you exactly where to go."
"What if I just cut ya...?"
"Then you will never know, will you?"
The looter blinked twice, and licked his lips. With a quick movement he offered the small piece of copper.
"Where then?"
Heathbrand reached to take his friend's memento from the blackened hand.
"There's a cave not far from here, on the East path. Bert kept his stash in the second turning of the narrow tunnel."
"Ah..." the eyes blinked once again. "Ye'll not follow me...or I'll slit ya! It's mine!" Backing away, the looter grabbed the sack off the ground and headed quickly in the direction Heathbrand indicated.
Standing alone once again Heathbrand turned the small piece of copper over in his fingers. "Well Tom, the worms may feed on you, but the spiders will feed on him tonight...." and he made his way slowly and painfully from the blackened ruin.
