Sakrattars breathed a heavy sigh of relief when they reached Orium. It had been two blessedly uneventful days since the run-in with the bounty hunters but he had just about enough of sleeping on the ground and constantly looking over his shoulder. Now that they were back in civilization, he wouldn’t need to worry about either. But where he found reason to relax, Jo’s vigilance only sharpened.
Situated at the point where the Calthian mainland jutted out into the Aurelian peninsula, Orium was a lively crossroads town with the way to Aurea in the south, Barsicum to the east, and the country of Balthissica to the west. Though an important waypoint for travelers, Orium never reached the grandeur of other Imperial cities. It was a place everyone passed through but very few seemed to live in. Perhaps it was its transient nature that had Jo so on edge.
“Don’t be so tense, no one’s going to try anything in the city limits,” Sakrattars said. “Orium’s one of the safest towns in the Empire. Crime is nearly unheard of here.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jo muttered. Absently, she touched her wounded arm and cringed.
“Yes,” Sakrattars replied curtly, miffed at the doubt in his judgment, “and you really should get that looked at while we’re here.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t. I worked briefly as a physician’s assistant. That arm is infected. You could even lose it.”
Kaja perked at this. “Don’t lose it,” she pleaded.
“I won’t!” Jo said. “The elf is being dramatic. I’ve been through worse than this and came out just fine.”
But Kaja wasn’t having it. She stopped in the road, her eyebrows knitted together. “Please go.”
Jo groaned. Kaja pulled a face. Sakrattars pursed his lips, eyes darting between them, and waited for one of them to fold.
Kaja’s mood markedly improved once they were at the clinic. She sat cheerfully in a window arch, kicking her legs idly and watching the passersby. Sakrattars leaned against the wall, a book in hand. Jo may be the de facto leader of their little band, he reflected privately, but it was Kaja who always seemed to get her way.
It was midday when Jo reemerged, pulling back the curtain in the doorway with her arm newly wrapped in fig leaves and linen, and smelling faintly of honey and marigolds.
“I want to see you back here for fresh dressing every day for at least a week,” the doctor said, his stern tone suggesting that Jo had given him the same grief she had given Sakrattars and Kaja. “I told you what might happen if you don’t.”
“Yes, sir,” Jo grumbled.
After the doctor disappeared back into the clinic, Kaja jumped down from the window and inspected Jo’s arm, turning it this way and that. Sakrattars doubted she had any real idea what she was looking at, but Jo was willing to humor her.
“Well, we’re stuck here for a week,” Jo said.
“There’s no rush,” Sakrattars replied. Secretly, he was thrilled by the idea of spending more time in a nice, dry bed. Something told him that Jo would want to avoid the main roads down to Aurea so he was eager to enjoy his creature comforts while he could.
As if reading his thoughts, Jo smiled wryly. “Yeah? How are we going to pay for it?”
Sakrattars’ face fell. It always came down to money, more precisely his lack of it. He was convinced that the stuff was cursed by the Abyss.
*
*
“This is the fourth inn we’ve tried,” Sakrattars whispered, huddling with Jo and Kaja in the foyer. “I doubt we’ll find any cheaper.” Even after pooling all their remaining coins, they didn’t have enough money to pay the length of stay.
“Do you have anything you can sell?” Jo asked. “Those robes look pretty expensive.”
“No way!” Sakrattars crossed his arms, as if Jo might try to take them from him at that very moment. “What about your cestuses?”
Jo’s expression darkened. “Since you’re a wizard who can’t use magic, these cestuses are the only real defense we have.”
“‘Can’t use—’? Of course I can use magic.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Excuse me,” the maid interrupted. She smiled and waved when they looked over. “I couldn’t help overhearing.”
Sakrattars bowed. “I’m sorry, we’ll be on our way—”
“Before you do, I thought I’d share something you might find useful.” The woman stopped sweeping and lowered her voice. “I don’t normally do this but, well, you’re a warrior, aren’t you?” She nodded at Jo, gesturing to her hair. It was true—Jo kept her curly red hair in the traditional Culacallian warrior style: shaved on the right and long on the left. “I grew up outside Castrum Solis in Datharia and, well, let’s just say I owe a lot to natiuhan warriors. The word is that the Dominus was robbed a few days ago. He’s looking for someone to help track down some items that were taken. I hear that there’s a handsome reward in it for the person who does.”
“The Dominus, huh?” Jo rubbed her chin. “Thanks for the tip.”
When they were back out on the street, Jo and Sakrattars found an unobtrusive spot in an alley to discuss their options.
“Crime is ‘unheard of’ in Orium, eh?” Jo said snidely. “Do you know anything about this Dominus?”
“I did say ‘nearly’,” Sakrattars retorted. “And it is quite odd, I must admit. It’s because of Dominus Gaius Praetia’s policies that Orium is usually so safe. For him to be the victim of a crime is rather ironic.”
“Do you think it’s a lie?”
“He’s a private man, rarely appears in public and hires his own personal guards rather than drawing from the Imperial watch. But I’ve never heard anything bad about him. On the contrary, I’ve only heard people talk about him as fair and just. Kind, even. I don’t think he would lie about something like this. What would he have to gain?”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Jo paused, distracted by the sound of quiet munching. “Kaja? Where did you get those?”
Kaja, her mouth full of dates, shrugged then pointed towards a stand in the bustling market square.
Jo sighed. “What did we talk about before? You can’t just take things. You’ll attract attention.”
Kaja swallowed. “No one saw,” she said matter-of-factly, as if that was the only issue. Jo rubbed her temples in exasperation.
“Is this why you’re wanted?” Sakrattars asked incredulously. “Stealing?”
Jo ignored him, opting instead to conveniently focus on their objective. “Let’s go see this Gaius Praetia,” she said.
*
*
The Dominus’ mansion was located in a quiet part of Orium, far from the hustle and bustle of the lower class. In contrast to the inns, shops, and cramped apartment buildings of the city center, the upscale neighborhood featured palatial homes and immaculate pleasure gardens. Sakrattars had already caught a highborn lady discreetly eyeing the dirty hem of his robes and curling her lip at Kaja’s tattered cloak. Jo mostly escaped notice for once. It was not unusual for the affluent to hire natiuhans as personal guards, after all, and as far as anyone knew Jo might be on her way to escort some noble on a business trip to Aurea.
Two men stood guard at the gate to the Dominus’ villa. They were draped not in the golden dragon sigil of the Aurean Empire but in Gaius Praetia’s family colors. Their robes were steel-blue trimmed with black and silver, and the sigil upon their cloaks was a half-moon wreathed in Imperial laurels—the latter displaying that the Praetia family was an old one indeed.
Sakrattars grabbed Jo’s arm and pulled her back. “We can’t just walk in there. We’ll have to make an appointment for an audience.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know that,” she replied absently, shaking him off. He had hardly let go before she announced her intentions. “Men! I’m here to see the Dominus.”
Sakrattars was disappointed but not surprised. Why would she start listening to him now?
The guards exchanged bored looks. “Name?”
“Jo.”
“The Dominus did not tell us to expect a visit from a natiuhan today. Nor anyone by the name of Jo.” The guard said.
“I’m here to discuss business. Heard the Dominus is looking for something. I intend to get it back for him.”
The guard was not inspired. “You’ll need to request an audience and come back at the specified time.”
“Excellent idea,” Sakrattars agreed. “Let’s make that appointment—”
“You see, I’m here now.” Jo stepped closer to the guard, her shadow engulfing him. The plume on his helmet scarcely reached her shoulders. “And I would like to see him now.”
“Sorry, we cannot allow it.”
Jo closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then struck the stone pillar behind the guard. He flinched as shards of rock and mortar dust bounced off his helmet with a soft plinking sound. Jo withdrew her fist.
“Looks like something happened to the Dominus’ wall,” she said ruefully. “You’ll have to explain the situation when you tell him that he needs to call for a masoner.” She gave them a crooked grin. “Of course, I’d be willing to stick around if you want to do it now. You know, just in case he’d like to hold me personally responsible.” Sakrattars heaved an exasperated sigh. So much for keeping a low profile.
A few moments passed in silence before the second guard spoke. “One moment please, ma’am.” He said, disappearing through the gate. The one who had been treated to Jo’s “diplomacy” stood stock-still, nervously glancing between Jo and the courtyard beyond the gate. Kaja picked up a rock and tried to put it back where Jo had chipped it off the pillar. When she couldn’t reach the spot, she settled on wedging it between two lower stones. She returned to Jo’s side, quite confident that she had been helpful.
The guard reappeared and beckoned the party through the gate. “The Dominus will see you now. Luckily, he is a very gracious man.” He stressed this last point, looking severely at Jo.
The mansion was as grand inside as it was out, filled with fine tapestries and paintings but curiously lacking in the trappings that would make it feel like a home. It was also quiet and sparsely staffed for a Dominus’ household. Sometimes there would be a cowled figure, robed in Gaius Praetia’s colors, standing guard outside of a locked room. They didn’t move nor talk as the companions were escorted quietly by, and any expressions they may have made were hidden deep within the shadows of their hoods.
The guard ushered them into the audience chamber and took his leave, visibly relieved to be rid of them.
“Jo the natiuhan and party,” the herald announced as they approached the dais. Upon it sat Gaius Praetia, a middle-aged man with graying hair and fine wrinkles around his brown eyes.
“Dom Praetia,” Sakrattars acknowledged, bowing his head in respect. “My name is Sakrattars Mistwood. I apologize for my companion’s behavior. Allow us to pay—”
Gaius raised a hand. “If you can help me, then I will gladly consider that payment enough.”
Sakrattars deepened his bow. “You are as magnanimous as they say.”
“Sakrattars, did you say? You have the bearing of a noble, where are you from?”
“Arvisian Bay, Dominus,” he replied. “We are not true nobility, though my father is a member of the Merchant’s Council.”
“You’re one of Lorsan Mistwood’s boys?” Gaius reclined back in his chair and chuckled softly. “To say that he’s a mere member of the Merchant Council is quite a humble way to refer to the power your family wields.” Jo swung her head in Sakrattars’ direction. He bit his lip but did not return her gaze.
“I suppose, Dominus.”
Sakrattars was grateful when Gaius turned his attention to the others. “And you must be the natiuhan who chipped my wall.”
“The name’s Jo.”
“Jo what?”
“Just Jo.”
“Very well,” Gaius said. “And the girl?”
“Her name is Kaja,” Sakrattars interjected before she could open her mouth. “She’s my cousin. Mother’s side,” he added hastily, cursing his incompetence at lying. It was well known that Lorsan Mistwood had no siblings, a fact that many credited with allowing him to rise to the heights of wealth and influence that he had.
Gaius Praetia looked long and hard at Kaja. Sakrattars hoped he wouldn’t question the fact that they looked nothing alike in features nor complexion, and breathed a quiet word of thanks to Pali the trickster god when the Dominus seemed willing to move on. “I see,” Gaius said.
“We heard that you were robbed recently,” Jo said, “and that you’re offering a reward to anyone who can return the stolen items to you.”
Gaius nodded. “That is true. Well, partially. There is only one item that was taken: my family seal.”
“A seal?” Sakrattars repeated, his eyebrow lifting. Of all the items he could think of being stolen from an affluent household, a seal was at the bottom of the list.
“Yes, it is made of solid gold and has been in my family for generations. You can understand why I’d want to see it safely returned. I’m offering fifty gold pieces to whoever can retrieve it.”
“Do you have any idea who might have taken it?” Jo asked. “And why?” Apparently Sakrattars wasn’t the only one who thought it odd that a seal was all that was taken, even if it was pure gold.
“We’ve already caught the thief.” Gaius looked beyond the party for a moment. “Ah, Decanus Hjalmarsson. Perfect timing.”
A man entered the chamber, either unaware of or unconcerned with the fact that the Dominus had an audience. He strolled in with a confident swagger, fingers idly twisting a lock of his beard. “He isn’t talking, Dominus, I’m not sure—” he stopped mid-sentence, his face beaming. “A natiuhan? Now this might be just what we need!”
Based on his throaty articulation of Imperial Common, Sakrattars guessed that the man must be Stjornugaardian—and a long way from home. Stjornugaard was a kingdom on the northern edge of the continent, far beyond the reach of the Aurean Empire. The people who lived there were thought to be a serious and solemn bunch, a product of their long and harsh winters. But this man didn’t fit the stereotype as he smiled jovially at them, a warm red glow flushing his pale ivory cheeks.
“Decanus Leif Hjalmarsson,” the herald introduced, annoyed that no one had waited for his announcement.
“Decanus Hjalmarsson is in my employ,” Gaius explained. “He’s tasked with interrogating the thief regarding the whereabouts of my seal. Which you have not been successful at, I take it?”
Leif gave a good-natured chuckle and shrugged. “He doesn’t want to rat out his buyers. But he might change his mind if a natiuhan were to ask him.” He looked shrewdly at Jo, then proceeded to deliver the rest of his report.
Jo spun Sakrattars around to face her. “You’re rich?” she whispered angrily. “We’ve been sleeping in dirt and you’re rich?”
“You think I’d be telling fortunes in the market if I was rich?” Sakrattars snapped back. “My father is in charge of the family’s wealth and we haven’t spoken in years.”
“Well why don’t you start speaking to him?”
“What are you saying? No!”
“Can we count on your assistance with the prisoner?” Gaius asked, addressing Jo once more.
She cast Sakrattars one last scathing glare then turned her attention back to the dais. “If I help, then can we expect that reward?”
“Yes, bring me my seal and it’s yours.”
*
*
“You know, I’ve never formally met a natiuhan before,” Leif said on the way to the dungeons. “I’d love to spar with you one day. I thought my muscles were impressive but look at yours!” He laughed and gave Jo a friendly punch on the shoulder, though he had to go up on his tiptoes to manage it.
Sakrattars expected Jo to react with the usual contempt but, on the contrary, the corner of her lip turned up into a small grin.
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“I’m not sure you’d like the outcome of that match, Decanus.”
“Now that’s a fight I wouldn’t mind losing! Just standing toe-to-toe with a natiuhan, I’d be the talk of the tavern. People would buy me cold ale all night to ice my bruises.” He laughed again. “And no need to call me ‘Decanus’, I’m not in the auxilia anymore. Leif is fine. You might be surprised, though. I’m no stranger to a good fight.” He smiled boldly, unable—or unwilling—to contain his bravado. “I don’t want to brag, but you could even say I have a reputation.”
“Ha!” Jo snorted. “I like your spirit.” Sakrattars couldn’t tell if she truly believed the boast or if she was just humoring him. Either way, this Leif fellow was beginning to grate on his nerves.
Leif stopped outside a set of stairs leading down into the cellar of a plain, stone building. The windows were reinforced with metal bars. He glanced at Jo. “Are you sure the fancy elf and the girl wouldn’t rather wait outside?”
“Fancy elf?” Sakrattars exclaimed, insulted.
“Yep.” Leif pinched the fabric of Sakrattars’ robes and rubbed the fine cloth between his fingers. He held it up as if it were a key piece of evidence. “Fancy elf.”
Sakrattars wrested his sleeve away, fuming. “Don’t call me that. And I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.”
“I beg your pardon, princeling,” he replied sarcastically, making a mockingly formal bow. Sakrattars scoffed but didn’t say anything more. “And what of the girl?”
“We go together,” Jo said.
Leif shrugged then ushered them in. The dungeon was hot and humid and smelled worse than an unkept barn.
“I’m back. Just like I said I would be,” Leif said to a young man in one of the cells, “and I brought a friend.” Jo stepped forward, casually cracking her knuckles as she did.
“I’d start talking if I were you,” she suggested.
“You don’t scare me.”
“I should.”
“Look,” Leif intervened smoothly, leaning against the bars and dangling his arms through as if he and the prisoner were on familiar terms. “Is your buyer really worth all this trouble? The Dominus is a good man. If you tell us what we want to know, he might even spare you.”
“How noble.”
“Open the cell,” Jo sighed. Leif fumbled with the key, letting the situation sink into the thief’s mind. Still, he didn’t speak. The key had barely turned the lock when Jo kicked the door open with a booming metallic rattle. The thief jumped before Jo hoisted him up by his collar and slammed him into the wall, his feet scrambling for purchase. “You’re wasting our time. That’s not good for you.”
“Fine. Fine!” The thief choked, tapping on Jo’s forearm. She didn’t budge. “His name is—gah! Lucius! He’s a merchant, just left—just left for Barsicum,” he gasped. Finally, Jo let go and he fell to his knees, clutching his throat and coughing.
“When you say ‘just’?”
“I mean he probably left yesterday,” the thief wheezed. “Can’t have gotten far.”
Leif relocked the cell once Jo was out. “Thank you, sir, for your cooperation,” he said.
The young man grumbled in response.
“How are we going to find this guy?” Sakrattars asked. “Go up the road and hope we find a merchant named Lucius?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Jo said.
“No, we’re going to need some more help.” Leif grinned. “And I know just the guy.”
*
*
The sun was setting by the time they reached the Fearless Sheep tavern. Inside, it was loud and lively, filled with patrons who had just gotten off shift and were craving a drink. Kaja yawned, resisting the heaviness on her eyelids. The hustle and bustle of city life no longer shocked her but she still found it fascinating: the way people would break into song, others dancing to the rhythm, crashing into each other, beer flying, laughter blending into the noisy hum.
“We always meet here in the evening,” Leif called over his shoulder, expertly shoving his way through a group of people. “Ah, there he is. Amale!”
Sitting alone at a back table was a lycaeon. The dogfolk were a rare sight, indeed Sakrattars had never met one before. This one had mottled black, orange, and white fur, with a tuft of scruff lining the edge where his vest hugged his collarbones. Large, bat-like ears, poking up through special slits in his hood, swiveled towards Leif upon hearing his name.
“Hey Amale.” Leif pulled up a chair. “I’ve got a job.”
Amale flicked an ear, bringing a bowl of beer up to his muzzle. Kaja watched, captivated, as he lapped at the drink. He noticed her from the corner of his eye, paused, then set the bowl down when it became clear that she wasn’t going to stop staring. Sakrattars nudged her shoulder and shook his head in disapproval.
“You heard that Gaius Praetia’s seal was stolen, right? Well we’ve got a tip on who might have it now. Problem is, he’s already left town. We need someone to help us track him.” A barmaid approached the table to take their order. Seeing her, Leif exclaimed, “my goodness! I’ve been told how beautiful Aurelian girls are, but I truly had no idea,” he marveled dramatically. Sakrattars noticed he made his accent thicker for this performance. After ordering three more beers and a grape juice for Kaja, Leif peppered in a few more canned one-liners, leaving the maid with a smile and blush as she went to fetch the order. By the time Leif turned his attention back to the conversion, Amale’s ears were flattened back in annoyance and Sakrattars looked like he had just smelled something foul. Leif cleared his throat. “These are the people who are coming along.”
“A child?” Amale asked dubiously, his voice unexpectedly deep and gruff.
Leif laughed, grabbing his mug of beer from the barmaid’s tray when she returned and taking a long swig. “Don’t underestimate her. I bet she’s the toughest of all of us!” He winked. Amale’s dark brown eyes trailed over to Kaja as she inspected her juice. She sniffed it, then took a small sip. Once the taste of fresh, sweet grapes hit her tongue, her eyes pinned and her face lit up. Amale’s impassive gaze lingered on her a moment longer before turning away. He didn’t appear convinced but seemed willing to let it go, so Leif continued. “Her name is Kaja. The natiuhan is Jo and the elf is Sakrattars. This is Amale Inyoni, we worked together in the auxilia a couple years back and we’ve been friends ever since.”
Amale nodded in polite greeting. “When?”
“Tomorrow morning. We want to catch up with this guy.” Leif paused, taking note of Jo’s bandaged arm. “That is if you’re up for it?”
Jo waved it off. “It’s nothing.”
A moment passed in silence as Amale’s gaze moved between each member of the party. He lapped from his bowl a few more times, before setting it down and nodding.
“Great!” Leif downed some more beer, wiping the foam with the back of his hand. “Since we’re here, we might as well enjoy a few more rounds, eh?”
“Only if you’re paying,” Jo said.
“Ha! Tell you what, I’ll pay if you can out drink me!”
Jo smiled into her mug. “Better get out your purse then.”
Jo and Amale had to carry Leif out of the tavern by the end of the night. He made a valiant effort, no one could dispute that, but in the end he was no match for Jo. “Takes more than this swill to get a natiuhan drunk!” she had slurred victoriously after Leif took an ungraceful fall off his stool and landed in a heap at their feet, mumbling his way through a line from a bawdy drinking song.
“Aurelian girls are the golden-est girls . . .” Leif hiccuped from a puddle of spilled beer on the floor. “Got the golden-est curls in the whole wide world . . .” Sakrattars wrinkled his nose. He was looking forward to completing the job and being rid of Leif once and for all.
Amale led them to Leif’s apartment, which was right next door to his own, and helped put his old friend to bed. That done, Amale nodded to them “Tomorrow,” he said simply, then took his leave with a wobble in his step.
“So where are we going to go?” Sakrattars finally asked. Kaja sat down on the floor, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.
“Kaja’s got the right idea, let’s just stay here. We’re all leaving together in the morning, right?” Jo said, settling down.
“We can’t just stay in his apartment uninvited.”
“Look at him.” Jo gestured to the bed where Leif was snoring soundly, a stream of drool running down his cheek. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”
Sakrattars shifted his weight, uncomfortable with the idea but even more uncomfortable with the thought of sleeping on the street. He found a corner of the room to bed down and didn’t wake until the sunlight streamed through the window the next day.
*
*
“Just like old times, eh Amale?” Leif said, holding a hand to his head. “Out on a job together, you tracking, me walking off the night before . . .”
Amale’s ears flattened.
“Alright, alright, I’ll let you work. No need to be testy.”
They were traveling down a barely-used dirt path weaving through the thick woods of northern Aurelia. Amale suspected that a merchant carrying stolen goods, especially high profile stolen goods, might not want to take the main roads. His theory had been verified by a set of fresh cart tracks on what amounted to little more than a game trail. No sane person would attempt to pull a cart through unless they were doing something illicit.
Amale darted ahead, silently vanishing into the brush.
“So how did you three end up working together?” Leif asked amiably.
“Kaja is my ward,” Jo said. “The elf is helping me.”
“And how old are you, girl?” Leif stooped down to Kaja’s level.
She looked away shyly. “Forty winters.”
“Fourteen?”
“No, forty.”
Leif guffawed. “Forty years old she says! I like this kid.”
Kaja blinked in confusion, looking at Jo for an explanation. Sakrattars pursed his lips.
Amale reemerged from the forest. He said nothing, but fixed Leif with a look that drained the smile from the man’s face.
“He found something,” Leif said, the mirth gone from his voice.
Amale brought them to a tipped pull cart with goods strewn about every which way. A man was splayed face down in the dirt, blood seeping from stab wounds staining his back.
Jo gently shielded Kaja away from the gruesome scene. “Looks like someone else found Lucius,” she said grimly.
“Search the cart,” Leif ordered. But, as they expected, the Dominus’ seal was nowhere to be found.
Amale crouched down, peering at the ground. “They left tracks,” he said. “Sloppy.”
As Amale led them off the trail, Sakrattars sighed, hiking up his robes and following behind. He still managed to get a hem snagged on a branch, then stumbled while wrestling himself free. Bartholomew tumbled out of his hood but Sakrattars caught him before he hit the ground. Finally, he gave up. Clutching the toad to his chest, he walked on, allowing his robes to drag through the dirt and pick up twigs.
On the other hand, Kaja proved herself adept at slinking quickly and quietly through the dense overgrowth. Amale observed her, flicking an ear in what one could assume was approval.
It wasn’t long until they heard voices.
Four kobolds huddled at the mouth of a shallow cave, skewered rabbits roasting over a fire. A mess of objects and scraps from previous meals littered the area. They appeared to be in the middle of a heated discussion, speaking Draconic with a strange, barking dialect. Sakrattars and Kaja listened with interest.
“Why not keep it?” one asked.
“Lord Bhorovane said to bring it to him,” another answered. “He will be angry if we keep it.”
“He never said bring it to him,” the first one argued. “He said to find it for him. We have found it.”
“I suppose . . .”
Jo signaled to Sakrattars to stay with Kaja. Amale drew his bow and nocked an arrow, tip-toeing into position. Once he had line of sight, he lifted the bow and aimed. He needed to be ready in case negotiations soured. There was a sharp crack as a stick snapped in half under his hindpaw. Amale’s ears immediately pinned, silently chastising himself for giving away his position.
“Did you hear that?” a kobold hissed, all four looking in Amale’s direction.
Leif emerged from the brush, Jo at his side. He lifted his hands. “We’ve come to take you back to Orium for the murder of that man, and to return the item you stole,” Leif said. “Surrender and we can go peacefully.”
The kobolds looked at each other then scrambled to grab their weapons. Leif shrugged and unsheathed his shortsword.
“We’ll see now if your skill in a fight matches your confidence,” Jo said, tightening the strap on her cestus and shifting her stance.
Watching the situation unfold from the bushes, Sakrattars caught an unexpected movement in the corner of his eye. Kaja raised her hand, tracing a familiar arcane symbol in the air. She pointed to a grove of trees on the opposite side of the clearing and a bawdy tavern song rang out from the foliage. Sakrattars’ jaw dropped. It was one of the songs they had heard the night before in the Fearless Sheep, the one that Leif had drunkenly joined in on. “Aurelian girls are the golden-est girls . . .!”
Amale, his concentration broken by the unexpected noise, let loose his arrow but only managed to hit one of the kobolds in the calf. Jo charged forward, unsurprised and undeterred, leaving a baffled Leif behind. Brought back into the moment, Amale dropped his bow and drew two kukris from sheathes on his back, and disappeared once more into the brush.
The sight of a natiuhan bearing down on them was enough to make the kobolds consider their next move carefully. With only four of them, one now wounded, it was unlikely that they could take her down.
Then they saw Leif.
One drew Jo’s attention while the other two slipped past her. One of the two raised a dagger wet with poison. If she could nick Leif, it would be enough to incapacitate him and then use him as a hostage against the natiuhan.
Leif saw the kobolds coming his way and planted his feet, assuming a defensive position. When the one with the dagger lunged forward, he stumbled back, raising his roundshield. The fact that it parried the kobold’s blow seemed more by accident than by intention. Frustrated, the kobold swiftly dropped the dagger to her other hand, intending to slash at Leif’s exposed swordarm.
Just then, a spray of acid landed across the kobold’s eyes, blinding her and forcing her to abandon her strike. She staggered backwards, trying in vain to wipe her face. Leif fumbled forward, running her through with a sloppy thrust of his sword. The second kobold, terrified, took off into the woods.
“So the fancy elf knows some magic after all,” Leif teased.
Sakrattars shook his head with reproach. “I didn’t know the auxilia had such low standards these days.”
“They caught me off guard, that’s all.”
“Really? Because from my perspective it looks like you’re still drunk from—”
But the retort was cut short as Amale jumped upon the kobold he had shot in the leg. He stopped her with a slash of his kukris just as she was rearing back to throw a dagger their way. He narrowed his eyes at them, his ears pinned. Chastised, Sakrattars and Leif turned away from each other.
The last kobold, seeing his partners slain and Jo readying a strike, threw his hands up in surrender.
“Take whatever you want,” he croaked in Imperial Common, “just let me go.”
“We’re looking for something in particular,” Leif said. “A gold seal.”
“Ah yes, the shiny thing.” The kobold nodded towards a pile on the ground. “It’s in there.”
Amale’s eyes trailed suspiciously to the objects. He bent down to riffle through them. With everyone distracted, the kobold made a run for it.
Amale looked up and shook his head. The seal was nowhere to be found.
Jo pursued the fleeing kobold, grabbing the back of his tunic and lifting him off the ground. He thrashed in her grasp, his claws and tail slashing the air. He hissed then snapped, his jaws closing nowhere near Jo’s arm despite his fury.
“Let me go!” he protested as Jo frisked him.
“Here it is!” she called, holding up the seal for the others to see.
“That’s a relief,” Leif said, helping Jo to restrain the kobold. “But what about the other man that was here? The singing one.”
Kaja raised her hand timidly.
“That was you? How did you do that?”
“Magic,” Sakrattars said, facing Kaja. “You know magic, don’t you?”
Kaja nodded once. Leif and Amale looked at each other in surprise.
“Well, we have the seal now,” Jo said. “Let’s get back to Orium, dump him off,” she motioned to the kobold, “and collect our money.” She handed the seal to Sakrattars. “Here, you hold onto this,”—she smiled mischievously—“fancy elf.”
Sakrattars rolled his eyes, thoroughly displeased at this new nickname. “Wait,” he said, inspecting the seal more closely. “That’s odd.”
“Don’t tell me it isn’t the Dominus’ after all?”
“No, it’s just . . .” He held the seal in an upturned palm and passed his other hand above it, chanting a few words. “This seal has a spell on it. And not just any spell. A very powerful one.” Kaja stared, transfixed. She, too, could sense the magic radiating from it.
Leif scratched his beard. “Why would you need to put a spell on a seal?”
“You wouldn’t.” Sakrattars shook his head. “At least not for any reason I know of.”
“What spell is it?” Jo asked.
“I can’t tell, it’s not like any type of magic I’ve ever studied.” A dreadful thought came over him. “Could it be—?”
“Be what?”
“No, no. Nevermind.”
Jo looked back at Leif and Amale, both as lost as she, and shrugged. “Alright then, let’s just return it and get our reward.”
Sakrattars gazed down at the unassuming seal. There was one type of magic he had never studied, a type of magic that had been made illegal in the Empire ever since one Emperor Neroza used it to commit atrocities against his own people in the bloody Imperial civil war six hundred years prior.
That magic was necromancy.
Perhaps one of the Dominus’ ancestors was a practitioner and the magical aura merely lingered. It didn’t mean there was anything nefarious going on. That had to be the explanation, indeed it was the only one that could possibly make sense.
Yet, apprehension still gnawed at the edge of Sakrattars’ mind.
*
*
Back in Orium, Gaius Praetia was glad to have his family’s seal back safe and sound. As promised, he paid them fifty gold pieces. As Jo and Amale watched the accountant weigh out the coins, Sakrattars stood with Gaius in awkward silence. Not knowing what to say, his eyes searched the room for something—anything—to comment on.
“That portrait is quite striking,” he said. “The traditional dress suits you well, Dominus.”
Gaius glanced up at the painting in question. “I appreciate your compliment but this is my great-grandfather, Basilius Praetia.”
“Ah, of course.” Sakrattars flushed in embarrassment. “There’s a strong family resemblance.”
“That’s what I’ve been told,” Gaius said with a small smile.
Once Jo was satisfied that the amount had been paid in full, the party was escorted from the mansion.
“It was a true pleasure working with you.” Leif held his hand out. “Everything they say about natiuhan warriors is true. Or at least you live up to the reputation.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.” Jo took his hand and shook it firmly.
“Where are you off to next?”
“We’re stuck in Orium at the moment,” Jo said, suddenly realizing that she hadn’t shown up to get her dressings changed that morning. The doctor was going to chew her out for that one. “We need to earn our keep though.” Then an idea came to her. “You’re going to be looking for work now too, right? Do you know anyone who’s hiring?”
Leif brightened and began sharing his ideas. Sakrattars pursed his lips. He had hoped they were at the end of their partnership, but surely Leif wouldn't follow them when they eventually left Orium. He just needed to endure it a little longer.
*
*
Later that night, Sakrattars crept back into their shared room at the inn. Kaja rested in one of the two beds and Jo, too big to comfortably fit in the other, propped herself up in a corner with a blanket and pillow. Unsurprisingly, Jo was wide awake. Sometimes Sakrattars wondered if she ever slept.
“Where have you been?” she asked softly, careful not to wake Kaja.
“Here.” Sakrattars placed a small drawstring pouch in her hand. “Mix a pinch into your waterskin. It’ll help with the pain.”
Jo paused. “Where did you get this?”
“I harvested the bark while we were out today. I once worked at an herbalist shop and recognized the tree. Had to give some to the apothecary in order to use his pestle so don’t go using it all at once.”
A few moments passed with only the gentle sound of Kaja’s steady breathing breaking the silence. Finally, Jo’s fingers curled around the gift.
“You’ve had a lot of jobs, haven’t you?” she quipped.
Sakrattars ignored the baiting comment, stripped to his underclothes and crawled into bed. He nestled in, Bartholomew plopping against the crook of his neck.
“Thank you.” Jo murmured.
Sakrattars shut his eyes.
*
*
Gaius Praetia placed the seal in a vault hidden behind a tapestry in his chamber. He was about to close the door when he paused, then recited the words to a spell. A glowing aura of green, necrotic magic appeared around the seal, dripping and roiling like fell acid. Satisfied, Gaius turned the lock and tucked the key safely into a pocket. He couldn’t afford any more incidents like this one. If those vile cultists had gotten their hands on it . . . well, he didn’t want to think about what they could have made him do.
In the middle of the dim room was the seal thief, tied to a chair. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, dazed from loss of blood. Gaius approached the thief, leaning down to inspect his prisoner. Why waste perfectly good souls on feeding demons, who were prone to outbursts of emotions and fits of desire, when thralls made flawless servants?
He would never be able to understand the Irkallu; their views were simply antithetical.
“It’s a shame, young man, that you got swept up in all of this,” Gaius mused.
The thief opened his eyes when he felt Gaius’ hand on his shoulder, his vision struggling to come into focus. The poor boy, he probably had no idea that all his actions had been carefully puppeteered from the shadows. Gaius doubted the thief even knew who the Irkallu were—they simply weren’t careless enough to reveal themselves to a lowly hireling like him.
“But you see, I can’t let this go unanswered,” Gaius continued. “There is a reason Orium is so safe, so orderly. Your employers must be sent a message.”
“Wait, I don’t—” the thief began, but would never finish the thought.
The last thing the thief saw was a flash of sharp fangs and then darkness eternal.