“What do you mean Lord LeMewn orders the gates of Quarre open at night?” Judd asked, incredulously stunned.

Fleta, the granddaughter of the cobbler was at the tavern, having arrived to enjoy the benefit of her ‘discount’ with Giordi and had been propelled to their table when he discovered she knew what was about to befall the man from Maul who was shackled to the well.

“Just what I said,” she flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, “the day of the full moon, Lord LeMewn brings out those who have been accused of a crime in Quarre and they are shackled to the well.”

“And that’s justice?”

“It is if they don’t die.” They all stared at her. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“What do you mean, if they don’t die?” Verne demanded.

“Again, just as I said.” Fleta looked at Giordi. “I thought you were the cute dumb one but I’m starting to think you’re the brains of this group.”

“Tactful and sincere flattery, my dear, is a gift given to only a few.” Giordi said with a wry grin.

“Consider that we are new to Quarre and have no idea how this works.” Judd had to rein in his temper to not snap at the girl who was becoming impatient, her evening with the handsome minstrel waylaid as she was called upon to educate them.

“Fine,” she sat down properly and the three men leaned over the table, “a few years ago, crime in Quarre was a common occurrence but even worse were the monster attacks in the quarry and the road leading up to the city. Lord LeMewn was losing control and there was talk about King Rocheveron putting a knight back in charge. Not even the cleric who was here, can’t remember his name, could help and personally, I think the stress killed him.” She paused and took a breath, her generous bosom rising and falling, unable not to be seen by any of her male audience. “Then King Rocheveron sent Deacon Clariet to Quarre and three months later, the trials began.”

“Trials?”

“What’s happening out there.” She nodded at the well.

“How is that a trial?”

“Lord LeMewn took those accused of a crime and shackled them to the well on the cusp of a full moon. Work ends early that day so we are all safe in our houses as the gates to the quarry are left open.”

“Not the gate to the main road?” Judd asked.

Fleta shook her head. “Just the quarry. Lord LeMewn said that those who were innocent would survive the night. Because of the curfew, we were all ordered inside our houses and even the guards were not permitted to remain outside. In the morning, following that first full moon, all those who were shackled to the well were gone.”

“Gone?”

She nodded. “There was a strange fog, a rising mist that poured out of the well…I remember watching from my window, my grandfather insisting I go back to sleep but I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t see much at all…yet I heard the screams.”

“Screams…”

“Blood curdling screams…the likes of which would turn your hair,” she looked at Verne, “white by morning. And there was a snarling…heavy breathing…then nothing and when dawn broke, the accused were gone with only blood smears to show where they’d been…and crime dropped in Quarre like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“No one is willing to risk being murdered.” Judd muttered.

“Is it murder if those accused of the crimes would have been flogged first then died of infection?” She asked pertly. “The end result is the same and because we live within the rules laid down by Lord LeMewn and his deacon, we are safe. Even the monster attacks in the quarry have stopped,” Fleta stood up, “and that is all I have to say about that. You,” she looked at Giordi, “owe me some quality time.”

“Indeed I do.” Giordi stood up and as she began to walk away, glanced back at the others and rolled his eyes dramatically.

“Why do I get the feeling he’ll overlook her ‘flaws’ for the sake of her ‘attributes’?” Verne muttered then stood and took her place at the table so that he could see Judd’s expression. “Could Fleta really be telling the truth?”

“I think she takes the world at face value.” Judd shook his head. “Besides, we heard Lord LeMewn talk about ‘judgement’ regarding that man at the well.”

“Does that mean,” Verne leaned towards Judd, “he intentionally allows a monster into Quarre every month?”

Judd nodded. “To deal out justice, or at least, his idea of justice.”

Verne blinked. “Is that…right?”

“I don’t know.” Judd admitted. “I wish…I wish Caste were here then I could pick his brain for what he knows.”

“You don’t think he’d be swayed by his comfortable living at the manor house?” Verne asked dryly and Judd paused.

“Caste has always been very straight laced. I know it gets irritating but at least he’s…true…if a little blinkered.”

The tavern owner’s wife put bowls of stew in front of them. Judd tried not to start counting the cost of their accommodations and meals as they picked up their spoons. Judd put a spoonful in his mouth and chewed slowly, his eye drifting to the window where he could just make out the form of the man from Maul in the blur of the frosted glass of the tavern. Several children of Quarre had taken to throwing rotten vegetables and fruit at the man, jeering at him. He felt sick at the display.

“Do you know much about them?” Verne’s words took a moment to register and Judd looked up at him. “Men from Maul…do you know anything?”

“Not really,” Judd sighed, “I know they’re said to be stained by the south, a little like how Caste said women became witches by touching tainted water.”

“So…they’re not actually from Maul?”

Judd shook his head. “Not with the wall in place. But it’s possible that their kind snuck over before the wall was assembled and just inhabited one of the forts.” He looked at Aalis who had been silent the entire conversation, her eyes grey and troubled, unable to move from the window, her supper untouched.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Verne scrunched his face up. “That doesn’t make sense. If they were on this side of the wall, why didn’t they ever try to bring it down and let the monsters loose into Terra?”

“That’s what makes me think they’re not from Maul as all monsters actively try to kill and devour humans.” Judd scooped another spoonful then let it drop. “I know Fort Omra, where this man is supposedly from, is under the control of Sir Fereak. He’s not a pushover. King Rocheveron assigned him that fort because he trusted him to keep the savages of the south under control.”

“By letting them roam the countryside?”

“That leads me to believe that they’re not as savage as the festival of Maul makes them out to be.” Judd confessed. “Perhaps they are a group of people with…dark skin. It’s not their fault if we call them the savages of the south when they’re only allowed to live in certain places.”

“Well, as interesting as this has been,” Verne put his spoon down, “what are we going to do?”

“What can we do?” Judd asked. “This isn’t our city. It’s under Lord LeMewn’s control and it’s his responsibility.”

“But monster killing is what you do.”

“I doubt I’d get close with those guards in place. Besides, should I really risk everything in defence of a man who might be guilty?”

“I do not care if he is guilty,” Aalis’ voice, quiet yet severe, took them by surprise, “to be killed by a monster…that is not justice.” Judd and Verne glanced at each other then back at Aalis who turned to them, finally arresting her eyes from the windowpane. “We must help him.”

Judd’s body felt like it was being pulled in two directions. He knew he had a tendency to favour Aalis out of a growing attraction to her of which he was painfully aware but he couldn’t just do as she said every time.

“I…I don’t think…”

“Judd, please,” Aalis put her hand on his arm and he was reminded of the way Lia LeMewn had done so, as she warned him at the dinner table, “this is not justice…”

Judd gazed at her, struggling internally to know what to do.

“You know,” Verne interjected softly, “LeMewn said if the man survived the night he would be judged.” Aalis and Judd turned to him. “All we have to do is get him to survive the night. At least then we could make an appeal to Lord LeMewn for some kind of proper trial.”

“If we are seen as interfering, we’ll be the ones on trial.” Judd shook his head. “Besides, unless I’m standing out there with a sword, how can I possibly defend that man? We don’t even know what monster is let loose into Quarre. Damn it…we need Caste.”

“We’re probably as smart as he if we put our heads together.” Verne said firmly. “I know he’s smart but Aalis is brilliant,” she looked up, surprised by Verne’s remark, “I’m not learned but I’m no slouch and you’re a monster aficionado.”

Judd chuckled. “You’re right…although I didn’t know what an orthros was.”

“No one knew what an orthros was except Caste.” Verne snorted. “Right, what do we know about this monster?”

“Fog from the well,” Judd listed, “screams of the condemned, blood the next morning…”

“She said the bodies were gone so it has to be strong…or it ate them on the spot.” Verne gave Aalis an apologetic glance as she shuddered and pushed her stew away. “Sorry. Any ideas, Judd?”

“Unfortunately, none of that points us to a specific monster. Strong monsters that feed on flesh,” Judd sighed, “that describes most of them.”

“What about the moon?” Aalis looked at him. “Fleta said the trials always occur on the cusp of a full moon.”

Judd’s mind began to spark with thought and a thrill ran through him.

“A strong monster…full moon…and didn’t Fleta say something about snarling?”

“She did.”

Judd’s spine trembled. “I know what it is…it’s a werewolf.”

There was a long pause as his words sank in, each of them considering the alternatives yet returning to the same conclusion.

Verne leaned back. “So…how do we stop a werewolf?”

“With a sword.”

“Come on, Judd,” Verne folded his arms, “what do you know about werewolves?”

“I know Sir Mavour killed three in a single encounter using only a short blade.” Judd exclaimed. “I told you, I’m not a learned man.”

“Wait,” Aalis gasped, standing and running upstairs, Judd and Verne following, discovering her on her bed, flicking through the book she had ‘borrowed’ from Caste, “this is the definitive book on monsters, creatures etc, from Maul. It must have…there!” She opened the pages and thrust it towards them. “It has a chapter on werewolves, specifically humans who become monsters.”

Judd and Verne sat on either side of Aalis, looking over the carefully written notes. “Full moon, strong…teeth…growling…” Judd read. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Well, the full moon is a bit misleading. Apparently they are strongest when the moon is at its zenith…which is about three days.”

“Let’s worry about tonight, tonight and we’ll figure out tomorrow, tomorrow.” Verne grunted.

“Right.”

“Does it say any weaknesses?” Judd read hurriedly, Aalis too. Verne let them read, waiting for a revelation. “Well?”

“Nothing definitive, despite the title of the book,” Judd sighed, “just a reference to human/monster aberrations being weak against silver.”

“How could they know that?”

Judd looked up. “Sir Mavour was also known as the ‘Silver Knight’. It’s one of few metals that the purer it is, the stronger it gets.”

“A strong pure blade…that’s how he killed three werewolves.” Verne gasped. “That’s something!”

“Yeah but unless we give the man a silver dagger, how does that help us?” Judd demanded, standing with his arms folded.

They remained still and quiet, each lost in thought.

“Would it be enough if the werewolf just smelt silver?” Verne mused.

“What do you mean?” Aalis turned to him.

“Well…if they’re weak against silver, maybe all werewolves know it…and maybe if they smelt it on the man…”

“How do we get it on him?” Judd asked.

“Do we have any silver coins left from our shoe purchases?” Aalis blurted, pushing past them to where the pouch of diminishing funds was hidden, opened it, scattering the contents on the bedcover. “No, no…yes…yes…” She held up three. “Silver coins!”

“Great,” Judd was at a loss, “but what do we do with them? Would it be enough if he had them on him?”

“Doubtful,” Verne took the coins from Aalis and jingled them in his hand, “the werewolf is part human after all. It might be able to reason that a person could have silver coins on him. The best way would be to coat him in silver.”

“Call me insane but I doubt three coins could coat him.”

“What about a splash on him?” Aalis asked, looking up. “We melt these down and dash it on the man.”

“Melt?” Judd swallowed, eyeing the coins.

“I do not know how we would do that…”

“Oh!” Verne jolted. “I do! Wait here…” He dashed out of the room.

Judd watched Aalis collect the other coins, the change remaining after the silver coins were removed.

“We’re not going to be left with much…” He said softly, admitting his greatest concern.

“We could save a life,” Aalis said without looking up, “is that not worth the cost?”

He studied her head, her dreadlocks uncovered with her hood down.

“Who is he?”

“What do you mean?”

She gathered the coins into the pouch and pulled the cord tight.

“Who is this man, Suvau, that you would risk your life?”

Aalis glanced up. “I am hardly risking my life.”

Judd squatted in front of her, his brown eyes searching hers. “You ran forward, pushing your way through a crowd, to see him.” She paled, realising his meaning. “For someone who is terrified of crowded spaces and of being ‘recognised’, you took a Maul of a risk.” Aalis trembled and Judd felt a pang of doubt, suddenly and painfully aware of how little he really knew about her. “You seem inordinately concerned about him.” He added.

“This coming from a man who leaps into danger to protect others.” She returned weakly.

“This is not about me,” he argued, “this is about you.”

“No, this is about what a knight should stand for,” Aalis retorted and he blinked, surprised by her sharpness, “it is not always about fighting monsters and garnering acclaim. Sometimes it is about cruelty and condemnation that make monsters out of humans.”

“Aalis,” Judd swallowed, “there are no humans on my knighthood quest list.”

“But there is a human to be saved.” Aalis insisted.

Judd closed his eyes. “I…I cannot right all the wrongs of this world.”

He felt her hand touch his face and lift his countenance. “I know,” she said softly, her eyes shimmering with iridescent blue, “but you can here, today.”

Judd really wanted to kiss her in that moment but Verne burst through the door, cradling something in his arms.

“Uh…am I interrupting?”

“No,” Judd stood, Aalis with him, “what do you have there?”

“Our silver delivery system.”