The Cantankerous Tankard’s brightly lit interior had grown on Belle. It certainly wasn’t her favorite place in the world, given that all of the clientele would kill her if they ever figured out she was a witch, but she enjoyed the fact that everybody seemed to keep to themselves. The less she had to talk about herself, the better.

She handed the small contract back to Barky, who gave it a nod of approval. “Took you long enough. Now that that’s over with, we’ve got some business to attend to.” He shot a look at Stav, who finished his drink and got up from his seat.

“It was nice meeting you, girly. Hope to crush some skulls with you someday.” With a hearty laugh, he patted her on the shoulder and left the bar, walking towards one of the louder, more unruly tables.

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Business?”

“That’s right.” For the first time since Belle had met him, the bartender gave a hint of a smile. He leaned in and said, “Let’s talk money.”

Barky moved back, and said, “Now, the Church doesn’t like giving out Dallums to every up and coming Burner who tries their hardest. They like to see results, and they want them quickly. If you see someone use magic, they’re wanted dead or alive. If you hear someone used magic, capture them. The interrogators will do their work.”

“And if I’m not sure?”

“Capture.” Barky gave a scowl. “Some of the newer members have been using their badge to get rid of some old grudges. Small tip. Don’t do that.” He picked up a glass and started wiping it down absentmindedly. “The interrogators go after everyone the Church doesn’t like. That involves idiots who take advantage of their position.

“Now, if you have some sort of evidence that somebody you don’t like is attached to the magic ring around here, feel free to do what you have to.”

“I can do whatever I have to?”

“Mostly.” Again, that nasty smile appeared on his face. This was definitely not somebody that Belle wanted to cross. “An unfortunate casualty or two in the face of eradicating heathens is acceptable. Wanton destruction, however, is not.”

At least there were some rules. “And if the Guards get in my way?”

Barky put down the rag, and rummaged through his pockets. He tossed something small and wooden to her. Belle caught it out of the air, and turned it over in her hands.

It was about half the size of her palm, a flat disc that was smooth on one side. On the other was the engraving of the flaming eagle that she saw everywhere. “Show that to anybody who’s bothering you. After you get your first bag, you’ll get to customize it more, but until then you’re nothing more than a temporary member. Remember that.” Barky’s glare seemed to intensify.

Belle held her composure. “Understood. Anything else that I should know?”

Barky looked to the roof and tapped his fingers on the glass, as though contemplating something. “Now, don’t let any of the others know this, but I like the cut of your jib. You don’t seem like you’re going to break anything in here, which is already a big improvement over everybody else.” He gave a glare towards the face-tattooed teenage girl seated in the middle of the inn. “In an effort to get some civilized people around here, I’m going to give you a couple of leads.” He slid a small piece of parchment over the counter.

Now this was surprising. She hadn’t come into this conversation with any expectations, but favoritism was certainly unexpected. At least, if this wasn’t a trap. With a healthy amount of skepticism, she took the paper and unfolded it.

The print on the paper, hastily scrawled and difficult to read, was organized into a list. Belle read the first entry out loud. “Garvel, last name unknown. Hair: Either dark or light, depending on lighting. Seen holding a candle, possibly magical.” She fixed Barky with a disbelieving stare.

He shrugged. “Never said they were good leads.”

Belle sighed, and crumpled the paper into her pocket. She would eat her ears if she actually managed to find some use out of it. At least it was so bad that it couldn’t be a trap. “Well, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to go out and see what I can find.”

The bartender paused. “Alone?”

Belle nodded.

With a shake of his head, Barky said, “Typical greenhorn mistake. That’s how you get killed. If you want to get ahead around here, then you’ll find a group.”

“Really? You think I’ll leave my back to somebody like Stav?” She pointed behind her back, where the large tattooed man was threatening to break a chair over somebody’s head.

“I think it’s better to leave your back to an idiot than to a dagger.” Barky said simply. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some heads I have to knock together.”

He took a long plank of wood out from underneath the bar and yelled, “Next person to break any of my chairs is going to forget their name!”

Belle jumped out of her chair and made her way to the exit as a chorus of cheers and jeers sounded. It looked like some people took it as a challenge. She opened the door, and the last thing she saw before she left was Barky breaking his piece of wood over somebody’s head. Just as he promised, the person’s body dropped to the ground with a thud.

The entrance was just as dark as she remembered, and she was forced to follow the wall until she reached the staircase. Now that she knew where she was and where she was going, the journey was far less emotionally taxing.

It was quite a bit more physically taxing, however. Each step seemed to take a little bit more out of her. After a couple of minutes, she was already breathing harder.

“Tired already?” A little voice from inside her pocket growled.

She glared down, and in between pants managed to retort, “Big talk coming from a dragon who sleeps for centuries at a time.”

“Ah, but the important part is knowing how to get up. A part that you clearly haven’t learned yet.” Dara chortled at his little joke.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The next few steps were passed in silence as Belle concentrated on walking and climbing. The dragon didn’t drop the conversation, though.

“What are you planning on doing from here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I take down some of the random hedge mages, raise my rank around this group. Then I get to know some of the others. At least one of them knows something about the witch that I’m after.”

A beat of silence. “And you think that you’re going to be able to take down those ‘random hedge mages’?

Annoyance sparked through Belle. “Of course. No human could best me in magical combat. Few witches could.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’m talking about the silly little witch who struggled to take clothes from a poor family, even after giving them more wealth than they could have ever imagined. Are you seriously expecting me to believe that you can just beat up some random magicians, no questions asked?”

“It’s not that I don’t think that it’ll be hard,” Belle argued. “It’s just that, at the end of the day, this isn’t my home. The Grove, the Tree of Life, those are the places that I care about. And if I have to make a couple of sacrifices in order to save them, then that’s what I’ll have to do.”

Dara snorted. “You know, I’ve lived thousands of years, but the ignorance of mortals never fails to amuse me.” With that, he curled back up into a ball, and fell asleep, taking with him the conversation that had been distracting Belle from her building fatigue. In silence, but never alone, she plodded along, climbing the stairs.

After what felt like a thousand steps, she saw the light at the end of the tunnel. With a sweaty face and heaving gasps, she opened the door to see a fairly empty street, bar a couple of homeless and a few Burners, now her colleagues, wandering about.

She took a couple steps, using the wall of the building as a crutch, and sunk down next to the door, trying to catch her breath. While the Tree had been labyrinthian and a test of physical endurance, she had normally used magic to help herself, rarely ever just using her legs. Now that she was trying to curb her magic usage, she realized just how difficult some of the more mundane things were.

A waterskin appeared in front of her. Belle jumped in surprise.

“Ah, sorry about that. I’m still not used to how jumpy Burners can be. Although I don’t suppose you’re one yet, technically.” The priest that had been arguing with the Burners in the Tankard sighed, and shook the waterskin again. “The staircase was difficult for me at first, too. It gets better though, don’t worry.”

Belle looked at him with disdain, and shook her head. “No thanks, I’m good.”

The priest shrugged, and withdrew it. “I figured. The people around here don’t seem to want my help, anyways.” He gave a dramatic sigh.

That was a strange thing to say. Unsure of how to respond, Belle tried to escape the situation. “Oh, that sounds awful. Well, I best get to work--” She started getting up.

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you? Just like the rest of them.” The priest let out the most depressed sigh that she’d ever heard, twice as dramatic as the last one. With pursed lips, Belle stopped.

“What do you want?” She eyed him with suspicion.

“Oh, I just want to help.” He gave her a stare filled with sorrow. “But it doesn’t seem like anybody wants to listen to me. Any time that I try to preach the good word of The Iron Lady, it seems as though the people around me don’t even try to care. I just,” he sniffed, “I just want to be heard.”

“Wait, are you crying?” Belle looked at the whimpering priest with bewilderment.

“I knew that this would be a hard job when I took it.” The priest plowed on, ignoring her comment. “I knew this city would be filled with heathens and disbelievers to begin with. But I never realized that it would be this hard. The Lady gives me strength, but some nights I don’t believe that She gives me enough.”

“Um.” Belle couldn’t help but feel like she should do something. She awkwardly raised a hand and patted him lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll all be alright?”

The priest sniffled a little, and gave her large puppy dog eyes. They did not fit on the face of a man in his early twenties. “Do you really think so?”

Alarm bells went off in Belle’s mind. Not the kind that told her that she was going to get stabbed, but worse. This man was going to be an absolute pain in the ass.

She tried to retract her statement. “Well, who can really say, in the end? I mean, life is filled with twists and turns, and one of those involves me leaving. So, bye, I guess.” She got up and started striding down the street. To her vast disappointment, the priest followed her, matching her steps.

“No, you don’t understand. You’re the first person to actually listen to what I have to say.”

“And now I know why.” Belle muttered.

“You’re a native from Intigo, right? That means that you want to cleanse this city as bad as I do. Surely we can work together?”

Belle stopped, and turned to face him. “Listen, priest, and listen well. I’m going to go find some... heathens, and probably fight them. And in order to find them, I have to be able to blend into the environment. And you,” she gestured to his pristine white robes, “do not fit in anywhere.”

The priest looked offended. “I have a name, you know.”

Belle stared at him blankly. Then she ran away.

There was no way that she was going to let this pest follow her. She had enough problems without having an evangelistic puppy chasing her heels. She turned the corner into an alley, and then took another turn, hoping that she would lose him.

A thud hit her in the stomach. At first, Belle thought that she was under attack, and prepared to cast magic, but to her surprise she heard an equally shocked yelp. In front of her, stumbling backwards, was a small child. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old, although he seemed just a little bit shorter than he should have been.

Belle caught him before he fell to the ground. “I’m so sorry. Are you doing alright?”

The boy seemed to be close to hysterical. Tears flew down his face, and he sobbed as he tried to talk. “Please, help. There was this man, and he, he was so scary. He stole Uncle Mat’s cloak, and rings, and, and--”

Belle stopped him, and put both her hands on his shoulders. “Wait, are you telling me that there was a thief?”

“Yes!” The boy exclaimed. “And he wasn’t just a regular thief, he had magic, and he used it on my brothers.”

“Alright, take a deep breath. What’s your name?”

“...I’m David.”

“Okay, David. Don’t worry about anything. We’re going to get you to the guards, and the thief will get justice. Just calm down, and everything will be alri--” Belle’s voice got caught in her throat as she sensed something magical on the boy’s neck.

She reached for it, but the boy shied away, clutching at it with fear. “No, this isn’t what it looks like! I swear!”

Belle sighed. This got more complicated with every passing moment. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you for having magic on you.” She brushed his hands aside and grabbed the necklace.

It was weak. Bad. If she had made something like this, even when she was starting, her mother would have chucked her off the canopy of the Tree. As it was, it could barely be called a good luck charm.

But, nevertheless, it was magic, and it glowed with power. And the guards would no doubt wrangle the location of the boy’s family, and that was simply something she couldn’t allow.

“Listen, David. I’m going to help you. We can’t take you to the guards, of course, but I’ll help you out as much as I can.” She gave him a smile. “After all, stealing somebody’s clothes? That’s absolutely abominable.”

David wiped the tears off of his face, and nodded with a serious expression. Belle patted him on the back, and said, “Come on. Let’s go find that thief.”

Just before they set off, she heard the echo of a call from the main street. “Hello? Nice Burner lady? Are you still around here?”

A shiver ran down her spine, thinking about what would happen if the priest found David. Or worse, if he tried talking to her again. She gave the boy a little nudge, and said, “Actually, let’s run there.”

For the second time that day, she thoroughly regretted her lack of endurance.