Chapter 2
The Prophet, The Waitress, and The Beggar
Rynn came into the inn, Ranna trailing him. He had spent another day out among the populace, looking for clues to that mystery man who had seemed so interested in he and Khaska back at the Faatin Merchant House. Investigation had turned up some information on the man, a vagabond who worked doing manual labor for the merchants sometimes, but wasn’t picky about where he got his work. Sometimes he would work for a rival merchant organization, the Whitney and Sons trading guild, or just random shopkeepers hauling wood or doing other simple manual labor. He just took odd jobs here and there, and he had not been back to the Faatin Merchant House since that day. “Probably somewhere off drinking himself to death” laughed one of the merchant house guards. Rynn had tried the man’s rumored haunts, but had been unable to find him so far. But, every day he put in a good amount of work on his bow, too, venturing outside in the early morning or the evening to look for the man, and then returning in the growing heat of the day to work on his bow. He was returning a little early this evening.
He found Orensland playing cards with his new friend Seth and another inn patron. Rynn sat down to join them, and after a while Amara came and sat at the table. The sorceress didn’t join the game, but sat staring off into space, stroking Kirza’s head. That is, when the bird was close enough to do so. Kirza, as usual, was hopping around, and occasionally would hop down onto Ranna’s back. The wolf, used to this, simply would give a small growling whimper, then lay her head down on her paws. Rynn usually would pick the bird up, the bird would squawk, and then go back to Amara. Then the cycle would repeat. But this time the ranger was concentrating on his hand, looking from Seth, to Orensland, and their newcomer. Orensland’s goofy grin betrayed no bluff, but it almost never did. The rogue seemed to have the same perpetual smile throughout the game. Seth was deadly serious, but the man seemed so constantly. This newcomer, though, was pretty easy to read, but he had already folded for this hand.
“Kirza,” came a soft voice. It was the waitress. “That’s not nice.” The young lady put down a plate filled with seeds, and the familiar hopped over and began pecking at it. Ranna looked up and panted at the woman, clearly pleased with the turn of events. The waitress patted Ranna on the head before moving on. Amara didn’t notice what had happened, still lost in thought, but Rynn looked up and smiled at the waitress. “Can I get you anything else, Mister Fowler?” He shook his head before turning back to the game. She patted him slightly clumsily, then walked off.
Seth smirked at him. “You in or not?” Orensland’s goofy grin got even wider, but that didn’t help Rynn with the game. The ranger frowned at them both, but lost that hand to Seth, then couldn’t keep his head in the game. The soft touch of the waitress aroused memories and feelings in his mind that he would rather not revisit. Memories of his lost wife, Juliet.
He glanced over at the waitress, and caught her looking at him. She turned away quickly, but it was obvious she had been caught. Rynn continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye, and noticed that she wiped a tear from her eye before continuing on. Surprised at this, he dealt himself out of the game, much to Orensland and Seth’s dismay. The other patron also left, leaving a small chunk of change on the table. Seth pulled out a set of dice and he and Orensland continued gambling, but with a game more suited for just two people. Rynn pulled the bow out of his pack again, using his masterwork tools to fiddle with it, but really just watching the waitress.
He instinctively noticed that she was studiously avoiding looking at him, and that her hands shook as she poured a nearby patron’s drink. It was obvious to the ranger that something was a little off with her. Something was wrong. He glanced over at where her children sometimes sat. The little girl was there, playing with a ragged doll and humming to herself. The waitress came by, stopping to check on the little girl. “When are we going home?” the little girl asked.
“Two more hours, sweetie.”
“Will Zeke be there?”
The waitress shook her head. “Not tonight, I told you, he had to go away for a few days.”
“But I miss him!”
“I know dear, I miss him too. But soon he’ll be back home.”
“Is he with that man?”
“Yes, dear. But he’ll be home soon.”
“I don’t like that man. Why does he come over?”
“Hush!” The waitress put a finger on her daughter’s lips. The child looked at her mother. “Zeke will be home soon. Don’t worry about it. Now let’s talk about something else.”
Rynn frowned, something nagging at the back of his mind. Then he turned to Orensland. “Orensland, our waitress, what’s her name?”
“Oh ho!” Seth said, grinning. “I thought you were a little dense to not pick up on that girl’s actions!” The man smiled through his ragged beard. “She’s a looker!”
Rynn shot him a glance that made the man’s grin lessen. “Hey now, what? What did I say? What?” The ranger turned back to his companion.
“Her name is Amy,” Orensland said. “Why?”
“And usually her two kids are here, right?”
Orensland glanced over, at the little girl. “Yeah. Jennifer and Zeke.”
“Zeke hasn’t been here for a while,” said Amara, still absentmindedly staring off into space. Kirza was now hopping around her shoulders, preening himself.
Orensland frowned. “I think you’re right.” He looked at Amy, then back to Rynn. “What’s up?”
“Well, I just caught Amy staring at me.”
“She’s been doing that a lot,” the rogue said. “I think she likes you. She’s always nice enough to me and the others, too.”
Seth snorted. “Really? Just treats me like any old customer.”
“That’s because you cheat at dice,” Orensland smiled at him. “And she doesn’t like cheaters. She can instinctively tell that you’re a less than honest kind of guy.” The banter was obviously in good fun.
Seth smiled back. “Just because you can’t ever roll a pair when you need to don’t mean my dice are loaded.” The man got up. “Well, I’m going to hit the sack. Goodnight, folks!” Rynn waved at him and Orensland pushed some money over. Seth had to reach down to take back a coin the rogue had palmed, held it up. “Less than honest, hm?” Then he left.
“Something’s wrong,” said Rynn. “She’s been extra nice to you?”
“Oh yes, that’s terribly wrong. I hate that she always comes to me first chance she gets when I come back in,” said Orensland.
“She does that to me too. I’ve seen her get in trouble for it,” said Amara. “Serving me out of turn. It seemed odd to me.”
“I just heard her talking to her daughter over there,” said Rynn. “Her son had to go away, she said. You sometimes do magic tricks for the kids Orensland. Where has Zeke been?”
The rogue’s forehead creased. “Well, I’ve been out and about most days. I hadn’t noticed that he was gone.”
“Several days,” said Amara. “At least, since I saw him last?”
“And you’ve been here a lot,” said Orensland. “Just sitting around.”
“Master Hiddel will be sending his response to me here,” she said. “I have a vested interest in being here when it arrives.”
Khamir came in the inn and spotted them, walking over to the table. His face was ecstatic.
“You haven’t been around much,” Amara said. “Enjoying your temple?”
“Oh yes, yes I have. I have spent many hours in meditation and prayer there, and in a few days I will lead a pilgrimage to the Cathedral of Thakillestra the Gold, as my heart desires. But first,” he said down, practically shaking. “I have messages for all of you, from the Platinum Dragon himself! He has granted me visions!”
He turned to Amara. “May your appearance always match what is in your heart.”
“Whoa. Just like that, you start giving us messages from the gods,” she said, flabbergasted, and even backing her chair away.
“Why not?” He looked at Orensland. “Those who travel in the shadows do not always have to serve the darkness.”
Then he turned finally to Rynn. “That which is irreplaceable cannot be truly lost.”
“May my appearance match what is in my heart? What does that even mean?” asked Amara.
“I have no idea!” he sputtered. “But my god has spoken to me again. The high clerics of my order know not what to make of it, but I must soon leave. They wish me to journey to Sethrayin, to the head of my church, so that those wisest among our number may be consulted.” He was shaking with delight. “I know not what the future holds for me, but I pray the Platinum Dragon will allow me to continue to serve as his messenger!” His smile was shining, and he quickly stood. “I must go. Thank you! Thank you so much for everything. You helped me solve my first vision. I hope the King of the Good Dragons guides you all in wisdom and understanding, as you helped guide me.”
“Was there no message for Khaska or Jenika?” asked Rynn.
Khamir’s smile faded ever so slightly. “Khaska was to know that ‘a spark alone fades, but many together create a fire.’ I actually have already delivered that message.” He looked at the group, again, a little more solemn. “Help him find his spark. I fear he will need it, though I do not know why I feel that way.” He shrugged. “I have been given the words, nothing more. Perhaps I am wrong. Jenika was to hear ‘a true person wishes the best for their friends, though the best may be painful.’ Please, tell her that.” He reached his hand out, and Rynn stood to shake it. “Thank you, my friend.” Then Khamir embraced him quickly, so quickly that the ranger didn’t have time to react, finding himself being crushed in a bear hug from the human cleric. “Thank you!” He reached over to Orensland, who goofily smiled and embraced Khamir. Rynn looked at Orensland, who shrugged while hugging the cleric. Amara didn’t stand, but held her hand out to be shaken. Khamir barely seemed to notice her standoffish attitude, but shook her hand vigorously, actually kind of hurting her skin with his metal gauntlets. He bid them farewell, and the practically ran up the stairs to his room. A few minutes later he came down with his backpack, waved a final time, tipped a shocked Amy with a full platinum coin, and was out the door.
Amara was still holding her bruised hand slightly. “What was that all about?”
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Jenika was walking back to the inn. She had spent her day visiting a monastery much like the one she had grown up in, speaking with some of the monks there and finding time to meditate and assist them in aiding those who lived in the surrounding slums of Hammerdine. It had been a very relaxing day. On her way she ran into Khaska, who was walking back to the inn himself. The monk paused to wait for him, seeing his tall form shining in the setting sun, his new armor glistening. She had to wait for a while, for he was shuffling along, the crowd pushing past him in a hurry, oblivious to the Maha’i, sometimes pushing past him rudely. He took no notice.
“Khaska,” she called as he approached.
He slowly looked up to see her. “Greetings, Jenika.” He smiled.
“Are you okay?” Her face creased with worry. “You are disturbed by something.”
The Maha’i nodded. “I will not lie. Thank you for your concern; not all is well, but it is something I must handle myself.”
Jenika nodded. “As you wish.”
“Though, your company is soothing. I do not mean to be rude.” He changed the subject and asked where she was coming from.
She spoke of the monastery, hidden in one of the slums of the city, but well-maintained by the monks there. She told of her day, conversing, meditating, and serving with her fellow monks.
“It is good that you enjoyed your day. I fear there are few days like that ahead for me.”
“Whether bad days or good,” she said, “all days are easier to bear with friends. The other monks in the monastery were calming to me. I hope that through your bad days, I can do the same to you.”
“It is appreciated,” said Khaska.
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A few minutes later they entered the inn. The rest of the party was sitting around a table. Khaska and Jenika sat down.
“Boy, you just missed a show,” said Orensland.
“Oh?” said Jenika.
“Khamir just left,” the rogue continued. “Never seen someone so excited. It was like he was opening a present from Markus himself for his birthday.”
“It was odd,” said Amara. She was still shaking her hand out and flexing the fingers.
“He had a message for you,” said Rynn, to Jenika.
“Oh?” the monk seemed surprised.
“From the Platinum Dragon himself!” Orensland blurted out.
“So he says,” muttered Amara.
Rynn frowned at her. “We have no reason to doubt him.”
“We should not doubt him,” said Khaska. “He has already spoken to me.” Then, a whisper. “The message was for me, from Vohumnu. There can be little doubt.”
That shut Amara up, but it wasn’t clear she believed the Maha’i.
“A true person wishes the best for their friends, though the best may be painful,” said Rynn. “That was the message for you, Jenika.”
The group discussed the odd sayings delivered in such an odd manner. Khaska was adamant that they accept these sayings as real. “Who knows what gifts Khamir has received. We would do well to heed his messages.”
Amy came over to take orders, but did so quickly, without asking anything unnecessary, and not being as friendly as usual. She vanished back into the kitchen quickly. It was then Rynn informed Jenika and Khaska of what was going on with the waitress.
Amara chimed in after his brief explanation. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say she’s been watching us for a time, and now she’s been caught, so she’s nervous.”
“Still. We don’t know why she is watching us,” Orensland said. “I think I should follow her home tonight.”
“What?” Jenika seemed genuinely startled. “Why? Someone should just go ask her what’s going on. No need for you to follow a single woman back to her house.”
Orensland looked at her askance. “Remember what Khamir just told me. Not everybody who moves in the shadows serves the darkness. She would be safe.”
“I think that Jenika is correct, however,” Amara said. “Someone should just go ask her.” The sorceress was looking at the monk as she spoke, but Jenika held both hands up in front of her, as if warding something off.
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“Hey, not me. I’m not the one you want to send.”
“We don’t have to send anybody,” said Rynn. He nodded his head towards the kitchen, where Amy was emerging with plates of food. “She’ll be back with your food in a bit.” It took Amy several trips to serve a few other tables, bringing a wineglass and cups to a merchant and his table, dinner to a few others, and then stopping at her daughter’s table momentarily to speak to her before finally going back to the kitchen and returning with the orders for the party’s table.
“Here you go, Khaska and Jenika,” she said, placing steaming plates of food before the two of them. Khaska didn’t even look up at her, lost in thought about something.
“Amy,” Rynn said. The young woman turned to him.
“Yes, Mister Fowler. May I get you anything?”
“Nothing in particular.” He leaned forward, and whispered to her. In the growing din of the inn’s interior, the whisper did not travel far. “We were just wondering if something was the matter. You seem preoccupied.”
Amy started, and the looked down at the floor. “Oh, no, I’m fine really.”
It was obvious to Rynn that she was lying. She steadfastly refused to look him in the eye, and clenched her hands together nervously.
“You are clearly not, and have been watching us.” He reached out to gently steady one of her clenching hands. “Does it have to do with Zeke?”
At that, she jerked her hand away, as if burned. But she didn’t say anything.
“I noticed that he hasn’t been around for a few days,” said Orensland. The rogue was playing with a coin, as he had done so to entertain Zeke and Jennifer. “But Jennifer still likes my tricks.”
She grabbed the rag from her hand and polished a portion of the table, making as if she were busy helping clean it up. “I would rather you not get involved,” she said. “You will just go to the city guards and . . .” she began to cry a little, small hiccups that nobody else would really notice. “I’ll never see Zeke again.”
Orensland’s face went from concerned to dark in an instant and he dropped the coin to the table where it hit with a loud clang. His deft fingers swooped to pick it up before it stopped wobbling.
Rynn leaned forward. “What can we do to help?”
“Nothing,” she looked at him. “A few days ago a man came to my house. I’ve never seen him before. He and some of his friends took Zeke quickly and quietly. I was supposed to watch you, not get the local guards involved, and give him a report every night.”
“Hey! Can I get some service over here?” someone yelled.
“Report on us?” Amara said. This clearly alarmed her. “Why us?”
“I don’t know. But I have to go. These tables don’t wait themselves. I’ll be back to get your plates when you’re done.” Amy shuffled off.
The group almost immediately turned back to each other. “She needs our help,” Orensland said, all sense of joviality gone.
“But how? Why?” Amara said. “Who wants to spy on us? We’re . . . we’re nobodies!”
“There was that man at the merchant house,” Rynn said. “He was deliberately looking for me and Khaska.”
“Well someone wants to know about us,” Orensland said. “But why?”
They talked about it for a few minutes, when abruptly Khaska stood, his plate half-finished. “Excuse me please.” His departure was so abrupt that nobody thought to stop him. He was practically up the stairs as Amara followed him.
A moment later Amy came back to grab the cleric’s plate.
“When you go home, this man is waiting there?” asked Rynn.
Amy glanced at him. “He usually comes well after the sun has set. But please, do not do anything. Just leave it alone. If the guards get involved he said they’ll kill Zeke.” She vanished into the kitchen.
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Amara looked over her shoulder, ensuring that she had not been followed, and knocked on the door to Khaska's quarters. Khaska, who had been concentratedly meditating in a chair, was startled; people didn't come and visit. He got up and said, “Who knocks?”
“Something most commonly discerned by opening the door, one would think.” The steps were light, and the voice was Amara's. Why does she call on me? and why now? Khaska came to the door and opened it, though not wide. Amara chuckled quietly at Khaska's behavior, though not unkindly. “Do you mind if I come in for a few moments?”
“Greetings, Amara.” This forwardness was not something Khaska was prepared for. Neither he nor his room was ready for visitors, and the fact that she—a foreigner woman—would be the visitor was highly improper. “Is there something you wish to discuss?”
Amara's smile took on a slightly mocking edge. “On the contrary, I regularly knock on doors for no purpose but its own.”
Khaska hardened his features somewhat imperceptibly, and then asked, “What is your purpose at present?” She was a friend, but being the target of her amusement was an unpleasant sensation.
Amara sighed slightly but relented. “Conversing with you, as you first inferred. Alone, as you may also have inferred.”
Khaska stood motionless in the doorway, turned to inspect the room—there was only a chair and a bed on which to sit—and then turned back to Amara. This is highly improper and unusual. The others have shown little knowledge for our customs, and she has shown disdain. She does not know that I have never been alone with a female. But I came on this venture, anticipating the challenges. She is not Maha'i. And I will perform the proper restitution rituals afterwards. He opened the door more. “You may take the chair.” He sat on the edge of the bed. Amara smiled (without even a tinge of condescension or improper amusement, remarkably unusual even while only with the party) and nodded her appreciation of Khaska's courtesy. As she entered the room, she closed the door behind her before gracefully arranging her skirts and sitting. “You seem quite upset of late—ill tidings from the seminary? Or were the Knights less than helpful in your search?”
Khaska had hoped that none would notice. And of all people to do so—Amara! How can I explain it sufficiently, without giving up the knowledge, the secret I have learned, and which still burns in my mind? “The Knights have been helpful.” And the rest? “I have learned that, as the saying goes, ‘truth swears loyalty to no one.’”
Amara raised an eyebrow. “That is a fascinating saying . . . and wise of truth, I daresay. Is it taught as a moralistic caution, that liars will inevitably meet a suitable end, or as an encouragement to continually question the 'truths' taught by your elders?”
“Neither,” Khaska replied flatly. “But that truth ... truth is not something any person can claim. It can harm the person it has previously helped.”
Amara blinked, slightly taken aback by Khaska's vehemence. “I thought it was the teaching of most priests that truth is something to be sought after regardless of the cost. How, then, can truth do harm to an honest person?”
“Seeking truth means we must not ignore the chance of harm, which comes from ignorance,” he says. “But knowing that harm might come does not mitigate the harm done.”
“What form, then, does this harm take? I do not understand how one may say that ideas or facts—truth, if you prefer—cause harm.”
“Perhaps you will learn someday.” With this, Khaska raised his eyes to look into Amara's. For a moment.
Amara's gaze softened a bit. “Why are you so unwilling to share this burden?”
“There are some things that are to be borne alone.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Why? No truth should be unquestioned—is this not one as well?”
“Thus run destinies; and that one is known.”
“Known to whom?”
“Perhaps the saying is not common outside my people's lands.”
“Indeed it is not. And you have yet to answer my question.”
“Which question? I have answered each.”
“Why must some things be borne alone?”
”Thus run destinies.”
”Destinies are rarely learned in a moment, if even they exist. It is not a destiny which has upset you so.”
“So you assume.” She seemed to take a sort of pleasure in arguing. To what end, he knew not. “But some things cannot be spoken.”
“Yet you have learned it in some manner. If not spoken, then written.”
It is true; it seems Amara's purpose was obscured by her dissection of my words, and I did not wish to have a debate. “What would you have me do, then? You came for some purpose.”
“You know why I came. Something is troubling you, and it cannot be something of little import judging by the magnitude of your reaction.”
“And what do you propose?”
Amara glowered for a moment. “I propose that you stop pretending either one of us is a fool.” Her expression calmed slightly, but the intensity of her gaze did not falter. “From what the others mentioned, you laid serious accusations against the Knights, and then left to peruse their library. What were you looking for?”
“I do not wish to speak of it right now. I am sorry, but I am attempting to heal wounds I cannot mend with a spell.” Khaska felt a twinge of guilt at not acquiescing to her request to tell her the details of his search, but it was like withdrawing a barbed arrow; too fast and it tears muscle and skin. “Thank you for your concern. I will not forget it. For now, however, there are things that I am forbidden to share.”
Amara shrugged. “As you will.” She stood, but before leaving she looked at him once more. Her tone and expression were far more thoughtful—perhaps even compassionate—than Khaska had ever seen from her. “I cannot say that it has often been of benefit to me, but I hear often that sharing your pain will help ease it.”
Khaska nodded in reply while standing. “Be well.”
“And you as well.”
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A few minutes later Amara came back down the stairs, but Khaska was not with her. The rest of the group was discussing what was going on.
“Giving them false information is a good idea,” Jenika was saying. “But we need to be extremely careful. If you get caught,” she addressed Orensland, “that could be very bad. Also, we shouldn’t actually go anywhere until we have more information on this guy and his friends.”
“Planting false information might also get Zeke into more trouble,” Amara said, sliding into her chair.
“Doesn’t have to be entirely false. Maybe we’re thinking of taking a job with the merchant house, like Hartwin offered.” Orensland was all business, his jovial attitude having vanished the moment he realized Zeke was in trouble. His traditional goofy grin was completely absent. “Escorting caravans and the like.”
“But we turned that job down,” Amara rolled her eyes at him.
He leaned forward. “But maybe we’re rethinking the offer.”
“It would plant seeds that we’re going to be working with the Merchant House again,” said Rynn. “It might open possibilities for us to find out more about these people.”
“I still want to follow her home tonight,” said Orensland. Jenika started, but he held his hand up. “This is what I propose. I’ll follow her tonight, just to see where she lives. Then tomorrow I’ll go by during her shift and find a good place to hide where I can observe the house without being seen. That’s when I’ll get some more information on this man and his friends, and by then Amy will have some ‘new information’ to share with him.”
“I’ll still come with you tonight.”
“You would be welcome. Even tomorrow.”
“Having a friend nearby would be a good thing,” Rynn said.
Orensland turned to Jenika. “I’m going to go outside right now, so my following isn’t as obvious. Coming?” The monk stood up, cracking her knuckles, and the two of them left.
Rynn and Amara stared at each other. “A disturbing turn of events,” he said.
“Yes it is. What kind of people threaten the life of a child?”
“People that should be stopped,” he said. He glanced at the stairs. “Should we go get Khaska?”
“I think he would be better left alone tonight,” she said. “He made that very clear when we spoke a few minutes ago.”
“Very well then.”
The well-educated sorceress from Eskele and the wandering ranger from the Edge didn’t really have much to talk about together, but the silence wasn’t awkward either. Amy finished her shift and was out the door in a hurry, dragging the little girl with her.
It was about half an hour later that a well-dressed girl came in, glanced around the room, and found Amara. She walked right up.
“Amara Palladia of Eskele, I presume?”
The sorceress stood. “Yes.”
The woman straightened. “I am here to inform you that you have been accepted as an apprentice to Solus Hiddel. He formally requests your presence tomorrow morning at the beginning of first watch.”
Amara beamed. “Thank you! Inform Master Hiddel that I will be there.”
Orensland and Jenika came back about an hour later. Amy’s house was a little ways away in one of the slummier parts of town. It was actually only a few blocks away from the monastery that Jenika had visited earlier that day. The monks served the people of the community, and it was close enough, Jenika had speculated, that they might even know Amy.
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Amara left early the next morning, just as the morning light was beginning to assert itself in the sky. She was gone before anybody else was even up. Orensland made sure to sleep in, and he came down for breakfast just as they were about to stop serving it. He and Seth, who had also apparently stayed out late, ate together. Rynn was putting the finishing touches on his bow, and Jenika was all but pacing in anticipation of later that day.
Orensland made sure that he and the monk were out of sight when Amy arrived for her shift. They left soon after making sure she was at the inn, to go find a place where they could be nearby, yet see Amy’s house. It was decided that Orensland would be close to the house, and Jenika a little ways beyond him; he keeping an eye on the residence, she keeping an eye on him. In the head of the afternoon, few people were out in this part of town. It was relatively easy to find hiding places. In these slums, few people paid attention to what they were doing. Just two more people in the sea of lost souls in this part of Hammerdine, and people minded their own business.
Orensland hunkered down on a rooftop across the road from Amy’s hut, waiting. He took swigs from his water bottle as needed, but had picked a spot that was shaded for the rest of the day as the sun dropped from its noon zenith to dip towards the horizon.
As it got towards night, Orensland perked up. Amy should be arriving soon. And yes, just before the night enveloped the sky, she appeared with Jennifer in tow. The two of them disappeared into the house, a hut, really, and Orensland sat up. He glanced down the street to where Jenika had hidden. The monk was still there, hidden among some crates. Now they just had to wait.
It was not terribly long. Soon a man came to the door. He had an unshaven face and was wearing dark leather armor. He moved quickly and surely to the door and gave two swift knocks. Amy opened and let him in. Orensland glanced up and down the street, but could see nobody. He quickly dropped his rope down the side of the building and in moments was on the ground. He crept quietly to a spot just under one of Amy’s side windows. Hopefully Rynn and the others were able to plant the false information. Then he leaned against the wall, carefully, to listen to what was being said.
“ . . . they were going to take a job with a caravan.” That was Amy’s voice.
“Did they saw with which trading guild?”
“The Faatins.”
“Very good. Did they say when?”
“Not that I could hear. But they also think they might move to a different inn.”
“Oh? Why?”
“To see more of the city before they leave, I guess.”
“So they won’t be leaving immediately. That’s good to know. My employers will be pleased.”
“Have I done what you asked? When will I see my son again?”
“Soon,” he said. His voice felt oily, and Orensland felt dirty just listening to it. “You’ve done well, though. This is good information. I knew we could count on you.”
“Please, I just want my son. Whatever your employers want, Rynn and the others are leaving. I won’t be able to help anymore.” She began to cry, and Orensland clenched his fist around his short sword’s hilt, his fingers turning white.
“When we’ve dealt with these people, then you may have your son back. We need to make sure your information is accurate. If they leave, and if they escort one of the Faatin Merchant Houses’ caravans, then we will see.” There was the scrape of a chair. “You have been most helpful. When they are dead for interfering with the plans of my employers, I will see if we can release your son.”
“Is he well?”
“He is,” the man said. “You have my word on that. You have nothing else to report tonight? They didn’t speak of anything else.”
“Amara has apparently been apprenticed to a sorcerer in the city, and they were speaking of how to spend the money they had received as reward for killing a criminal.”
“Jonathan of the Wastes,” he intoned. “He was working for my employers, too.” The chair scraped again, and Orensland could tell the man was getting up. “We’ll probably kill them when they escort a caravan out of the city. Everybody is happy. You will have your son. My employers will have the information they want, some competition will be eliminated, and I will have my money from them. I hope that’s to your satisfaction.” The chair was pushed across the floor, and as Amy began to sob the door opened and closed. When the man didn’t come by his way, Orensland counted to ten and then crept forward, peeking around the side. The man was well on his way down the street, but seemed to not be paying much attention.
In a snap decision, Orensland waved to Jenika to come over, and then moved out into the street to follow the man. The rogue softly padded along the streets, ducking into doorways, hiding behind carts and pillars, and following at enough of a distance that the man, despite looking around several times, appeared to never see him. Occasionally he would look back behind him, but as he was moving at a regular pace and moving into more crowded parts of town, it was not difficult to follow him. At one point, he went into a bar, but before Orensland could get close he came out a few moments later with a dwarf. Orensland was close enough to overhear a part of their conversation, but it was mostly stuff he already knew. However, he did catch the man saying “let’s go report it to our friends at the Sendylus guild. They’ll want to know.”
A block later, however, they turned into a large complex of buildings with guards out front. Orensland thought it best not to try to follow them in. Instead, he turned right and continued on. A block later he turned back and waited for Jenika, who caught up to him soon. He relayed his information to her on their way back to their inn. Once back, they told their information to the others in the group. Amara was eating dinner at that late hour, having just returned. Khaska had come down for a very late lunch (having even skipped breakfast), but had gone immediately back to his room. He was still there.
The group together determined a new course of action. Rynn was immediately in favor of leaving the inn, to at least give Amy’s story some veracity, and Amara agreed, suggesting an inn closer in the city to Master Hiddel’s house. Conversely, Orensland and Jenika advocated more drastic measures. Jenika even went so far as to suggest sneaking into the Sendylus guild at night to look for the boy, but Rynn nixed that quickly. “Let us at least move and go speak to Hartwin. Perhaps he can shed light on this Sendylus guild, and possibly, with his wealth, scry for the boy.”
Amara left to go inform Khaska, who agreed about the situation, but said that he would be leaving on his own in the morning to go speak to Dragonrider Reitman on a matter of utmost importance. Agreed on their next set of plans, the group went to bed restless that night.
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The next morning they moved to a new inn and paid for rooms for a few days, but then immediately Khaska left with Amara, who walked with him to the Knights’ chapterhouse before continuing on to Master Hiddel’s. The others would wait for his return to go speak with Hartwin.
“I am grateful of the company,” he said to her as they approached the entrance to the Knights’ chapterhouse.
“Master Hiddel’s estate is not far, so it’s not really out of my way,” the sorceress said. “I hope speaking with Reitman helps ease your burden.”
“That remains to be seen, but is my prayer to Teresh as well. Good day, Amara.”
She nodded and waited for him to go inside, having little desire to follow him herself and set off the draconic wards again. Once he was out of sight, she turned to look at the assorted beggars and vagrants nearby. She had walked by this place enough since her meeting with the dragons that she already knew exactly who she was looking for, an older man with long wisps of white hair jutting every which way from his balding head, skinny, clothes dirty and hanging off of his thin frame, one sleeve sewed up because he was missing an arm. He looked up at her and smiled, holding a tin cup up to her. Amara almost involuntarily shuddered to see how many teeth he was missing and the state of the ones that remained, but she had already made her decision.
She dropped a gold coin into his cup. “I hope that’s of use to you, friend.” She leaned hard on the last word.
His eyes lit up at the sight of the coin and he grabbed it. “Thank ye, thank ye,” he looked up at her, “friend.” He similarly emphasized the word. “If I meet more generous folks like you today, I’ll go have dinner at the Lavender Willow. Their breaded peacock is amazing.” He coughed. “So I’ve heard.”
Amara had been watching him very closely, and was no longer fooled by his demeanor. This was no random vagrant, but a spy, closely watching the Knights and those who came and went to this chapterhouse. She gave him her most dazzling smile, perfected by years of noble training, but with genuine emotion behind it.
“I will certainly have to go try that meal myself, then.”
“Might change your life,” he replied, and she took his full meaning.
He winked at her, and the sorceress turned and left, her mind racing over the possibilities of what might come next as she followed the trail left her by the dragons.