Distant bells rang solemnly announcing the arrival of noon. It was a typical Mithian autumn day. The clouds were heavy, and the drizzle had fallen incessantly since dawn. Yesterday’s bright, sunny day was but a distant memory.

Sarah pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she followed the others down the street. She heard someone hollering behind them and stepped aside to make way for the carriage that the man warned them was coming. She glimpsed a coat of arms on the door as it came flying past, which told her it belonged to someone important.

She looked warily at the two men wearing the green cloaks of the City Guard on the corner who were watching the street impassively. What concerned her more was the inquisitor standing next to them, looking intimidating in his white cloak and mask. She glanced at Udoriol up ahead who had turned his head away. Grimald, who was in the lead picked up the pace, splashing carelessly through the puddles that had gathered on the cobbled street.

He turned a corner and they found themselves walking onto a bridge. Sarah didn’t know if it was by chance or by design, but Grimald had led them to the centre bridge. It was huge. The road was wide enough for four carriages to pass side by side and on either side of the road was a six foot wide walkway for pedestrians.

Up ahead, the citadel loomed over them. It was built into the riverbed itself and was almost two hundred feet across. The bridge became a tunnel as it cut through the middle of the citadel. People crossing it had to pass through two sets of gates. Numerous windows looked down at the bridge and Sarah could feel eyes on her. She glanced over the side and saw large boats passing under the bridge’s arches with plenty of room to spare.

“Are you sure about this?” Sarah breathed as they passed under a raised portcullis.

“Just relax,” Grimald muttered, as they approached a group of armed guards, “we’re just law-abiding citizens going about our day.”

Once they were past the second gate, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. “Was that really necessary?” she hissed, “there were two other bridges that didn’t have the largest fortress I’ve ever seen on them that we could have crossed over.”

“Cheval said security was the laxest on this bridge,” Grimald replied. His voice was tight, and Sarah could understand why. This job had long since proven to be more trouble than it was worth, even with the outrageous sum they were being paid.

He led them over the bridge and into the Lower City, as the half on the south bank was called. The streets here were narrower and more crowded. To Sarah, the Lower City was a seething hive, seemingly bursting with people. The cacophony of a hundred conversations happening at once assaulted her ears as they pushed their way through the heaving crowd. In the corner of her eye, she spotted an Avian, an intelligent race of seven foot tall humanoid creatures with the head and wings of a bird that hailed from a land far to the south. She had never seen one in real life before and stopped to stare at it until it disappeared around a corner. She then looked around and broke out into a cold sweat as she found that she had lost sight of the others.

She attempted to stand still to regain her bearings but soon found herself being pushed around from all directions as people attempted to get past, further disorienting her. Unable to stand still in the turbulent flow of traffic any longer, she walked up the steps of a building for a moment’s respite and to regain her bearings.

As she searched the crowds, all she could see was a mass of nondescript cloaks in every shade of brown, interspersed with the occasional white, red, or green one. On one hand, she relaxed slightly as it became clear just how difficult it would be for their pursuers to identify them here. On the other, she could find no sign of her companions.

She fought off her panic. She was a big girl. She knew where they were going and could get there by herself. She studied the streets and then recalled the map of the city they had poured over back at Cheval’s that morning. She got her bearings using the huge cathedral that loomed in the distance, taking a moment to admire its sheer size and grandeur. Then, she identified the green domed roof of the Grand Library and…

“Excuse me miss, are you lost?”

Sarah lowered her gaze, and her heart almost stopped beating. Surrounding the stairs were four men wearing white cloaks.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak but no words would come out. Was this it? Would she be taken in? She had heard the stories of what the inquisitors did to extract the truth from… Wait, they weren’t wearing white masks, though they were armed with swords and shields.

“You’re frightening her, Eminence,” a man wearing a lived in face said. His hair was short cropped, and the colour of steel and his arms were as thick as a young tree.

“If anyone’s frightening her, it’s you brutes,” frowned the dark skinned young man, who looked to be about Sarah’s age. His was the voice that had addressed her first and there was a musical lilt to it that made him sound exotic.

“Please, don’t be alarmed by my minders,” he continued smoothly as he turned his gaze onto Sarah and held hers with his deep, dark eyes before bowing low. “My name is Hicham Ouali, I hail from the distant kingdom of Jazari.”

He smiled broadly, showing off two rows of flawless white teeth.

“Sarah Wycombe,” she replied awkwardly, unsure where this conversation was heading, but wanting very much to be away from these servants of the Church.

“Master Hicham is Treto’s Chosen,” one of his minders interjected. He was a tall, wrinkled man with a mane of white hair. He exuded strength and vigour despite his apparent advanced years, “And really should be focusing his efforts on more important things.”

That piqued Sarah’s interest, though she tried not to let it show on her face. There were a hundred questions she’d like to ask this Hicham about life as a fellow Chosen but knew she couldn’t. They knew that Udoriol was travelling with Agni’s Chosen. Then there was the question of what he was doing here in Corrington. Was he also pursuing Udoriol? Was the elf’s crime so egregious that their Chosen Himself had to intervene? She then remembered the inquisitors they had killed back in Parindale.

“You failed to mention that he has sworn a very solemn vow of celibacy, Brother Conrad,” the final member of Hicham’s entourage added. He was a halfling who barely came up to Conrad’s waist, but his voice carried an air of authority to it that suggested he was their leader.

Hicham rolled his eyes before looking up at the heavens. “Come on, give me a break. All I seem to see all day is old crones and homely looking spinsters who have given up all hope of ever finding a husband.”

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The first man cleared his throat. “Be that as it may, you have an image to uphold as Treto’s Chosen.”

“I am well aware of my responsibilities, Brother Alfred,” the youth sighed, “Brothers Conrad and Peter have been taking turns reminding me of them every hour on the hour.”

“It’s only because you seem so apt to forget them,” Peter pointed out. The halfling had a deep voice and a lived in face and alternated his attention between Sarah and the crowd.

Hicham let off another deep sigh before turning his attention back to Sarah. “Now then, Miss Wycombe, where is it that you are trying to go? My companions and I will be delighted to escort you there.”

“No,” Sarah managed, “that’s not necessary.”

“Nonsense, I insist,” Hicham said. He attempted to hook his arm through Sarah’s elbow, but she evaded him deftly.

Sarah noted his bodyguard’s demeanour change ever so slightly and knew she had aroused their suspicions. She could attempt to lose them in the crowd, but she dismissed that as too risky. It had been difficult enough to make headway in there and unlike Woodhop, she wasn’t familiar with the streets at all. No, that was a losing battle. She would have to go with them.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, “it’s just that I am promised to someone.”

Hicham’s face fell briefly, but he covered it up quickly with a smooth smile. “And are you on your way to meet him?”

Sarah shook her head. “I have business at the Sleepy Griffon,” she said, remembering the name of a tavern close to the library, “if you must, you can accompany me there.”

“Do we really have time for this?” Peter sighed, “I thought you just had to meet Udoriol before our brothers in the Inquisition got their hands on him.”

Hicham shrugged, “we’ve parked ourselves at the North Gate for the last week and haven’t seen any sign of him. I have a good feeling about Miss Wycombe here, perhaps she is the talisman we need to locate him.”

Sarah turned pale and locked her eyes firmly on the ground.

“If I were him, I’d have turned back at the gates,” Alfred remarked.

“The whole story seems far-fetched to me,” Conrad pointed out, “why would our former brother be travelling with Agni’s Chosen?”

“An entire squad of inquisitors turned up dead, and we have several witnesses swearing that they saw an elf in the company of someone wielding blue fire,” Hicham sighed, “as to what his motives are, I’d quite like to meet him and get the story straight from the horse’s mouth.”

“Anyway,” he continued brightly, “it is considered rude in my homeland to keep a pretty young lady waiting. Let us be off.”

As he led Sarah down the steps, his bodyguards fanned out, keeping people away as they walked down the packed street.

“First time in the city, Miss Wycombe?” Hicham ventured with a broad smile on his face.

Sarah nodded.

“It really is quite something, isn’t it?” he continued, gesturing at the crowd, “it reminds me of Bandab back in Jazari.”

Sarah pursed her lips and focused on the ground in front of her.

“Have you ever been to Bandab?” Hicham asked.

Sarah looked up to see him looking at her with his piercing eyes and shook her head.

His smile brightened. “Ah you should let me be your guide there, it is a wondrous place and truly is one of Sera Thun’s Great Cities.”

Sarah nodded absently, not really listening as they cut through the throngs of people. It seemed hard to believe that so many people could live in one place. They turned onto another road and a huge building came into view. There was a huge rectangular building topped by a green domed roof. Statues of scholars were carved into its white marble façade.

“The Grand Library of Corrington,” Hicham declared, “I took this route because I thought you might like to see it.”

“It’s magnificent,” Sarah murmured, taken in by its majesty.

Hicham smirked derisively. “It has a quaint charm to it, but it pales in comparison to the House of Knowledge in Bandab.”

Sarah looked around the entrance to the library and at the crowds sitting on the stairs that fronted a stone plaza but saw no signs of her companions. She shrugged it off and allowed herself to be led across the stone plaza that fronted the library.

“That is the monument of victory,” Hicham announced, pointing at a tall column in the middle of the square. The column was mounted on a granite plinth. Bronze reliefs on the plinth depicted scenes from the battle of Lanfer where heroic men and dwarves struck down evil looking orcs. The statues of four crowned men stood on the top of the column. They had their hands on their hips, looking south. “Your Four Kings commissioned that after the Battle of Lanfer was won. The dwarves completed it in record time.”

Hicham’s eyes probed Sarah for a reaction, and finding none, he led her towards the eastern edge of the square and bumped into Peter.

“Excuse me, Eminence,” the halfling said, pointing to the west, “but the Sleepy Griffon is that way.”

Hicham’s mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “Ah yes, my mistake.”

They turned around and headed towards a busy tavern. Sarah’s eyes lit up when she spotted John outside.

“Thank you for guiding me here,” she said loudly as she broke away from Hicham.

However, the young man was not about to be shaken off that easily and kept pace with her. “Might I know how I might find you again, Miss Wycombe?”

“Now this is just getting embarrassing,” she heard Peter mutter.

“Take the hint, for Treto’s sake,” she heard Alfred add under his breath.

John spotted them and strode forward. “Is this man bothering you?” he asked. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed Hicham’s white cloak, and that he was not alone.

“I told you to meet me inside,” Sarah called out in her silkiest voice as she rushed forward to grab John’s arm.

“Ah, is this the man?” Hicham asked as he studied John as though he was something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

He looked like he was about to make a snide remark when Peter grabbed him firmly by the arm. “Please consider your position, Eminence, and don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have.”

An indignant look crossed Hicham’s face. “I was about to do no such thing.”

“Now now, we have escorted the lady as you wished,” Conrad chimed in, “and she’s back with her man, so let us continue about our business.”

Hicham was still protesting as Alfred forcibly led him away. Peter turned to Sarah and bowed sheepishly. “I’m sorry about him. It’s not often he gets to speak with… well anyone his age.”

Sarah smiled weakly. “It’s quite alright. In fact, I should thank you. I’ve gotten here far quicker than I otherwise would have.”

The halfling and the old man bowed formally before catching up with their ward who was already halfway across the square, still protesting loudly.

Sarah looked up at John who was still glaring at the departing figure of Hicham. Once they had disappeared from view, he whirled around to face Sarah.

“What was that about?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, “they cornered me after I’d lost sight of you.”

“Who is he, anyway?” John asked, “I’ve never seen anyone like him.”

“Apparently, he’s Treto’s Chosen,” Sarah said. She looked at the concern on John’s face and the devil in her took over, “Oh, you know, he’s a dark and dashing stranger from a faraway land. The stuff those romance stories are built off.”

“Oh, does that sort of thing interest you?” John asked, trying, and failing to sound nonchalant.

Sarah giggled and pressed her head into his arm. “Of course not. You’re the only one for me.”

“Come on, the others are waiting,” John fumed.

“Where are they?” Sarah asked.

John didn’t answer and began walking across the square towards the library.

“Oh don’t pout,” Sarah laughed as she tightened her grip around his arm, “you just looked so worried that I couldn’t help but tease.”

“I’m not pouting,” John said through gritted teeth, “hurry up, the others are worried about you.”

They found Grimald and Udoriol standing in the corner of the Grand Library’s foyer. It was fairly bare except for the numerous signs plastered on the wall that said in several languages, “Absolutely no fire magic allowed in the library.”

A large desk and a wooden gate barred entry to the library proper. A pair of old halflings were going through a pile of books behind it and barely acknowledged their existence.

“Ah, there you are, lassie,” Grimald said once he saw them, “I was afraid you’d got lost. We could search the city for weeks and not find you.”

“Well, here I am,” Sarah smiled.

Her smile quickly vanished when she heard a familiar voice. “See, I told you I saw her with him.”

She whirled around to see Hicham and his bodyguards walking into the library. Grimald gasped when he saw their white cloaks.

The bodyguards fanned out, blocking off the exits as Hicham levelled his piercing dark eyes on Udoriol who was still standing in the shadows with his hood over his head.

“I want to have a word with you.”