Dorri’s chest tightened until she felt barely able to breathe. If she’d been less mortified at the thought of making a scene, she’d have fled from the barn and into the night cool.
Karon, who’d been standing off to one side, listening with a tilted head and his hands clasped neatly behind his back, cleared his throat in a delicate and obviously practiced way.
“Do you know who this man is, then? Or have any idea why he stole this relic of yours?”
Porter stared at Karon as if seeing him for the first time. His gaze traveled up and down, taking in the fine, if road-stained, clothing and the way Karon carried himself.
As if accustomed to such regard, Karon bowed his head. “Karon Chanford. I have been traveling under the protection of your fine young Tilier.”
“One of the Chanfords from up at the Falls? It is an honor, Lord Chanford.”
Karon interrupted with one upraised hand. “I hold no title, so no formalities are necessary. I am, however, curious as to who this man and his companions were and what they wanted.”
Porter shook his head and blew out a sigh. “Other than the value of the relic itself? It’s not even solid gold, just plating, and that not even pure. I have no idea.”
“One of them carried a token of some kind.” Booth twisted his cloak around and delved into the pouch sewn into its lining.
Beside Dorri, Nildeyr shifted ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything, and when Dorri glanced over, he merely smiled at her. But she recalled how he’d worked his way through the fallen, militia and bandits alike, and provided a handful of coins to Booth when he was done. Knowing Nildeyr, as much as he’d given to Booth had made it into his own hidden purses and pockets.
“Here. This.” The coin-like token glinted on Booth’s palm, and he showed it to Porter. “Does this symbol mean anything to you?”
Porter took the token from Booth and squinted at it. “A curve? A couple of lines? No, I’ve seen nothing of the like before now.”
“Whatever they wanted, they were willing to kill over it,” Karon crisply pronounced. He didn’t seem to notice Porter’s wince.
“He was taking it into the center of that pond.”
Lora’s voice was, as always, like a pleasantly cool breeze. Booth and Porter and Karon alike turned their head toward her.
“The relic. This man was splashing through a cold pond in an attempt to get to the land at the center of it. Perhaps we might ask him why.” Lora tipped her head, bird-like. “You were intending to question him, yes?”
Booth glanced into the cell, where Arra had strung up the captive. Half-waking now, the man struggled lethargically against his bonds.
Booth nodded to Arra. She glanced past him to Karon, who repeated Booth’s gesture.
With a resounding smack, Arra struck the man across the face with her open palm. Dorri winced. The captive let out a choked cry and struggled harder. His eyes flew open and rolled wildly.
Arra leaned closer and spoke into the man’s ear. His struggles abruptly ceased, and his gaze fixed on Arra. She simply stared back at him, until eventually he nodded in apparent agreement with whatever she’d said.
Roughly, Arra pulled the gag from the captive’s mouth. Booth stepped into the cell’s doorway. His shoulders squared.
“You must have fallen on hard times to be traveling with bandits and murderers. Here’s your chance to redeem yourself by telling us everything you know.”
The tight calm with which Booth spoke impressed Dorri. She didn’t know much about Tiliers, but she supposed there was some code of honor. She couldn’t say she’d face down someone involved in the deaths of people she knew and cared about with such nobility.
She could, in fact, say just the opposite.
The man stared at Booth with perhaps some of the same disbelief Dorri felt over the mildness of his words.
“You’ve brought it back here, I assume.” The man barked a harsh laugh. “You keep a key to incredible power locked up in your rustic little chapel, and you don’t even understand what it will do.”
Booth exchanged a look with Porter. “You mean the scythe?”
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“Of course, I mean the scythe. Do you think you can keep it from us?”
“Us.” Booth held up the token with the odd symbol. “This is your mark? What does it mean? Who are you?”
“We are the Scourge of Batzieh. You will not stand in our way.”
Dice rolled quietly in Dorri’s head.
[You rolled a 12 for Lore.]
Dragons were created during the Age of Fury to serve as avatars of the Gods of Chaos and Old Night. One of the oldest and greatest of these dragons is Batzieh the Breaker, Dragon-God of the Never-Ending Hunger.
A dragon-god? Well, this just got big.
In spite of herself, excitement pinched at Dorri’s stomach. Dragons were, after all, never anything less than spectacular, in whatever game world you encountered them.
Booth fixated on a different part of the man’s response. “Is that a threat? Are there more of you out there?”
Alarm trilled up Dorri’s spine. Maybe it had Nildeyr’s, too, because when she sidled closer to the barn door and cracked it open to watch outside, he followed her.
Light flickered in the tavern across the square. Voices rose and fell, but no more than before.
No one shouted or screamed. No shadows moved in the darkness.
“Looks quiet enough.” Nildeyr spoke over his shoulder in the direction of Booth and the others.
“For now. We alone know what must be done. And it will be done.” The man choked out the words as if he were still drowning.
“Enough threats!” Booth’s hand dropped toward his flail. He took a furious step forward before visibly catching himself. “Where were you taking the scythe? What is it you think has to be done with it?”
“Are there more of you out there?” Lora repeated Booth’s earlier question, her voice light and sweet contrasted against Booth’s barely-contained ferocity.
The captive yanked hard against the rope binding his wrists above his head. He spoke again, and the words were melodic but had no meaning to Dorri’s ears. Before he got more than two syllables out, Arra cold-cocked him. He slumped, held up only by his bonds.
For a long moment, they all simply stared at the unconscious man in silence. Motes of hay dust floated in the lantern’s beams.
“Traton is still in danger.” Booth glared at the again-unconscious captive as if he’d like to add a few blows of his own to Arra’s. His fists clenched at his sides.
“He did make it clear that this cult of his intends to take the relic again.” Karon folded his arms, mostly fastidious once more in his nicely-cut jacket. He must have spent much of their walk into town picking leaves from his hair and clothes to look so well-kempt now.
“If they are still around, we’ll find them in the same spot where we found him.” Lora paced over to look through the bars. Her skirts, mud-stained but starting to dry, swirled around her ankles.
“We made kind of a ruckus,” Nildeyr piped up. “And we stayed there for better than an hour. We never saw anyone else.”
Lora turned to look at Nildeyr, her mouth pursed as she studied him. “Close by, then, perhaps.”
“Where did you say you overtook them?” Mayor Porter spoke slowly, like a man waking from a dream. “By a pond?”
“With a scrap of land in its center, yes. Why?”
“There’s a ruin there. Just a small one. From the ages when only Shining Ones walked the land, it’s rumored.”
“A ruin?” Nildeyr perked up at the mention. Dorri could practically hear him calculating the possibility of finding any lingering wealth in such a place.
“If people know about it,” Dorri murmured to Nildeyr, “then it’s likely been emptied out already.”
Nildeyr blinked and then had the gall to affect a wounded expression. Dorri reminded herself of him emptying the pockets of dead men and felt no guilt for her assumption that he was mostly interested by the possibility of treasure.
“There’s not much to empty,” Porter said in Dorri’s direction. “I’ve not been out there myself, but by all accounts, it’s just a few piles of broken stone. I can’t imagine what anyone would want with it.”
“If there are more of them out there, they have to be stopped from coming back here.”
As he spoke, Booth didn’t look around at any of the rest of them. His gaze seemed turned firmly inward. Dorri was quite certain that he intended to tackle the problem single-handedly, if need be, much as he’d charged down the hill at the Scourge they’d encountered on the road without bothering to see if anyone would have his back.
But we did have his back. Will we now?
For the first time in hours, Dorri’s thoughts turned to her own situation. She’d managed to forget entirely that she’d been trying to decide how best to slip away before Lora escorted her and Nildeyr all the way back to Iskian and the Order of Riddles.
Helping Booth and his town investigate the theft and murders would delay the journey toward Iskian. Dorri felt a brief stab of guilt over the outright selfishness of the thought, but that didn’t make it less true. And it wasn’t like it was the only reason she’d consider lending Booth and the others a hand.
“Much to think on,” Mayor Porter eventually ventured.
“I’ll go to the ruins and look for the rest of them.” Booth barely moved as he said it. The lines of his chain shirt remained square across his shoulders, and his jaw set. Dorri thought, though, that she detected a trace of waver in his voice.
Porter hesitated. “I understand you’re a Tilier now, Booth. But if there are more of these bastards in those ruins…”
“It’s my job.”
“You certainly do not need to go alone.” Lora glanced toward Nildeyr and Dorri, who remained beside the cracked-open barn door.
Nildeyr’s reply was an eager grin. Dorri’s heart thumped, but after only a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.
Lora smiled almost proudly. Her gaze shifted toward Karon. “Master Chanford? You’re a man of intelligence and education. Your assistance in exploring ruins might be quite helpful.”
One of Karon’s brows lifted ever so slightly. “I will think on it.”
“Our town doesn’t have much in the way of riches,” Porter began. “But I imagine we can scrape together some kind of reward.”
“It won’t be necessary.” Booth frowned as if offended at the idea.
Beside Dorri, Nildeyr made a small, pained noise. Dorri suppressed a wry smile and turned her head so Nildeyr couldn’t mistake her amusement for fondness.
I’m in it now, I guess.
The quest still involved too many people, but at least there was no outright burglary or spycraft. And it both stalled the return trip to the Order of Riddles and gave Dorri an excuse to avoid making more difficult decisions for the time being.