In The Beginning by Gail Daley (top 100 books of all time checklist .TXT) 📕

but the blood feud over to the south between the RedBird and Smoker clans had just finished. Before he died, the Smoker Chief Hutchins had claimed Rupert RedBird was hiring paid Mercs, and the stranger had ridden in from the south.

The practice of hiring fighters from the Merc Guild in disputes wasn't against the law, but it was disapproved of by Shahen Rupert, the son of the Shan who ruled Askela. Since the Merc Guild was extremely powerful and used by many to settle disputes, his disapproval didn't mean much. The Guild was composed of hundreds of small and large bands of independent fighters and was reputed to have ties with the Wild Magi. The Mercs were completely independent of any government, and the Guild's influence stretched through all seven of the human kingdoms. Siding with the Shahen against the Guild might mean you couldn't hire their fighters in your next conflict. Few landholders wanted to chance angering the Guild by doing so.

Rumor had it the Shahen was also trying to consolidate more power to the crown by discouraging the larger holders from keeping their own private armies. The Shahen wasn’t having much luck there either.

Because of his father's mental illness, the Shahen had been named Regent and virtually ruled Askela in his father's stead. A smart young man, Shahen Rupert knew any attempt to force the nobles to disband their large standing armies using his Magi Proctors might cause a rebellion against his already uneasy reign. Shahen Rupert knew better than to take any overt steps to interfere with the mercs; It was common knowledge the neighboring Kingdom of Jacite would attack immediately if a war broke out between the Shahen and his nobles. Despite the Proctors' Magi talents, they were outnumbered by the Mercs who would have the assistance of the Wild Magi if the landowners called on the Merc Guild for help against him.

Harry swore softly to himself. If he was correct about the identity of the fifth dice player, it meant he belonged to a troop he could call on if there was trouble. He was alone right now, but it didn't mean he didn't have allies nearby.

Harry was sure trouble was brewing because Jajson Buttersnake was drunk. When he was sober, he was a poor player and an even worse loser. Because he ran with the Buttersnake mob, he was usually safe when he had a tantrum; no one in his right mind wanted to start a fighting ruckus with Old Rock’s crew.

Harry had a bad feeling the fifth dice player wouldn’t give a damn how tough Old Rock Buttersnake’s crew was. There was just something in his dark face saying, ‘I don’t care’. The fight would probably cause a lot of damage before things got settled. And it was going to happen in his place too, he thought bitterly.

Buttersnake jumped up, scattering dice and coins. "I want a new set of dice!" he cried. "You shouldn’t have won that throw!"

The stranger came up out of his chair in one swift, clean movement. He slapped Jajson across the mouth, knocking him into the crowded bar.

The room exploded away from young Buttersnake. Leej Jonsyn, the rug merchant, dived away from the table so fast he knocked over his chair.

Jajson Buttersnake staggered to his feet, a trickle of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. He was white with fury. "You cheated!" he shrieked, pawing for his gun. He fumbled and almost dropped it in his rage.

The stranger waited until Buttersnake had his needlegun coming level before he drew and fired. His gun made a loud snapping noise as the puff of compressed air sent a fatal needle right down Buttersnake’s throat.

In that instant, Harry recognized the fighter. Hammer Smith was the handle he went by, but Harry had come from the coast, and he knew Hammer Smith's real name was Andre Benoit. Benoit was a free-lance Merc who at the tender age of sixteen had joined the Mercs. He was from the coastal area at the south end of the kingdom. He typically took on jobs not requiring the services of an entire troop, but he held the Merc rank of a lieutenant. Hammer Smith was reputed to be in his twenties, but he was already known as a dangerous man. It was said he never drew a weapon unless the man was armed and facing him but if you pushed him, you died. Jajson Buttersnake died.

In the stillness after the weapon fire, Hammer Smith calmly reloaded his weapon, scooped up his coins from the table and quietly walked through the swinging doors. Whispers started in his wake.

"Shot him in the mouth," someone said.

"Old Rock isn't going to like this," said another man.

"He won't care. That's a hard man," a voice said.

Hammer Smith mounted the dapple unicorn and set off at a brisk trot.

"So much for a warm bed for me and a soft stall for you, Blackfeather," he said. "Unless I’m mistaken we’re going to have a bunch of irate drovers on our tail soon. Why did I sit down at that game, anyway?"

Blackfeather’s stride increased to a smooth, ground-eating lope. The double moons were full, making the road as clear as day, but Hammer Smith knew he was going to have to leave it soon. He started looking for a good place to leave the trail. Behind him, he could hear angry shouts and the snap of needle gunfire.

"Okay boy," he spoke softly to the unicorn, who cocked an attentive black ear, "let’s ride some lightning."

Blackfeather was fast. Hammer Smith had traded him off a Sekhmet who had used him for racing. The trouble was he had beaten every unicorn in the area so often no one would race against him anymore, and the Sekhmet was broke. Hammer Smith had traded him a half-broke unicorn with the disposition of a poison beetle crossed with a snapdragon, an extra needle rifle and twenty coins in eating money.

He knew if he could get a start