The Egg Quest

by Jo Fontana

  Reyden ignored the dirty looks that the others flashed him before they split up and set to the task that was required of them. He didn’t care if they were annoyed. He was tired of running low on funds. Reyden hoped it was the last time they really had to do this. He mentally cursed Rafe for stealing his most valuable possession, and for making things extremely difficult and expensive. He vowed to pay Rafe back in spades.

  Reyden walked back into the jail in a foul mood. He glared at the disgusting excuse of a jailer. "I can add a few lights in here if you reduce the pickpocket's bail.”

  “By how much?” asked the unenthused jailer.

  “I charge a dumar a light.”

  The jailer hesitated a minute and Reyden thought he was going to turn down the offer. "Five lights. Then his bail will be down to twenty dumars."

  “Done. Where do you want them?”

  "Two here and three by the cells.”

  Reyden created the two lights in the small entryway and then wandered back toward the cells. He was pleased that he would be able to inconvenience the thief.

  “Back so soon?” the prisoner needled.

  Reyden grinned evilly at him, and then created the last three lights.

  "Now there's lots of light to illuminate these lavish surroundings,” the pickpocket observed with a tone of irony.

  Reyden felt that he didn’t nearly inconvenience the other man enough, so he threw a rotten egg at him, then walked out of the holding area. The stench followed Reyden to the front of the building. The jailer’s nose crinkled and he glared at Reyden. Reyden announced to the jailer as he was leaving,

  “You might want to air the place out. I don’t know what he ate, but it reeks back there.”

  Reyden watched as the jailer moved from behind the desk and grumbled while he opened the windows. He wanted to see if the jailer would punish the pickpocket so he stuck around and followed. When they reached the cells, the jailer glared at the prisoner. Reyden smirked at him over the jailer’s shoulder.

  "You should get me something to clean up with, otherwise this smell will just linger," the elf behind bars advised the jailer. When the jailer turned to get him something, the pickpocket sneered at Reyden, who just grinned wider.

  The jailer left the room and returned with a bowl of water, and a small piece of soap. "Do the best you can," he ordered and walked away.

  Satisfied that the jailer wouldn’t punish the pickpocket too harshly, Reyden left. A few minutes later, he appeared outside cell’s barred window. He blew a raspberry to get the elf’s attention, and then waved an egg, which immediately crumbled. A breeze dissipated the smell, but the pickpocket was already cold and miserable from having washed.

  Once he finished annoying the prisoner, Reyden went from shop to shop to see if anyone could use his services. By the end of the day, he’d made fifteen dumars. When he was finished, he went to search out his companions. As he passed the stables, he saw Deverick with one of the horses.

  “Bottomless pit!” he called. “Did anyone arrange for us to stay another night at the Inn?”

  "Yes, Morgan took care of that this morning when he saw Emory walking off with that elf,” he answered while tending to a cut on the horse’s ear.

  “Good. I’m going to eat now. I’ll see you there.”

  “I’ll be along when I’m done here.”

  At the inn, Reyden sat at a large table while he waited for the others. He snarled at anyone who wasn’t a part of his group that attempted to sit at the table with him. He was shocked at the stupidity of these folks. He’d have to ask a few leading questions of his companions to find out if that was normal behavior. Illithor was the first to arrive. He sat down looking a bit ashamed.

  "I only earned ten dumars. It seems there was not as much need for security as there is lights. I heard something about some snarky guy who makes lights with boiled eggs," he said morosely.

  Reyden smirked, before leaning in closer to Illithor pretending to gossip. "Or rotten eggs. At least, that’s what I heard at the jail."

  “Rotten eggs too? This sounds interesting.”

  Reyden’s eyes flashed with glee. "The jailer and the sticky-fingered elf were not amused. Apparently, the pickpocket got a face full of it and had to strip down starkers to wash up. Then magically, the smell disappeared."

  "I believe he is going to regret ever stealing while we were in this city, or that he has knowledge of Rafe."

  Reyden banged a fist on the table. “I did it because he stole from one of us!”

  "I'm not criticizing; I'm merely making an observation. I hear the jails are always cold. If that man was forced to strip, I’m sure he must be annoyed and uncomfortable.”

  “I know you’re not. That’ll teach him to steal from any of my associates.”

  "And I appreciate that."

  “Good.”

  “Appreciate what?” Omaric asked as he approached the table.

  "That everyone is working so hard to make more dumars," Illithor responded.

  Reyden looked up abruptly in amazement of Illithor’s tact. He studied the elf for a minute before finally considering that maybe Illithor’s niceness wasn’t completely an act. He smiled at the thought.

  “Well I made twenty-five to add to the till,” Omaric announced proudly.

  “Good job kid. Fifty-five dumars so far and that doesn’t include what the others will bring. There will be one more leaving with us tomorrow and he’s riding with me because I don’t trust him.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Illithor asked with concern.

  “Yes, because I have the least to steal. I’ll let the Postulate hold onto any resources.”

  “And I’ll ride behind you so I can keep an eye out,” Omaric reasoned.

  “Don’t ride too closely kid,” Reyden warned.

  “Oh no. Just close enough to warn you if it looks like he’s going to pull some sort of stunt.”

  As the men were talking, the rest of their companions entered the inn. They sat down and promptly handed over what they made to Reyden.

  “We’ve elected you treasurer,” Emory informed him.

  “I wasn’t aware that I ran for the position,” Reyden said as he counted the haul and added them to a coin pouch. “Ninety dumars total. We have to pay twenty for the pickpocket, so that leaves seventy for traveling. Good, I was getting sick of our having to raise funds before moving on.”

  “So now what?” Illithor asked.

  “We eat, get up early, bail out the pickpocket, and be on our way,” Reyden replied.

  The others nodded in agreement. A server approached, took their orders, and disappeared to get their drinks. Omaric chattered through most of the meal to anyone who would listen. Reyden, as usual, was the first to finish.

  Reyden pushed his plate aside and stood up. “I’m going to turn in.”

  “Don’t try to egg me when I walk in this time,” Illithor called to him.

  Reyden didn’t stir when he heard Omaric and Illithor entered the room.

  “Do you think that we can all sleep in the bed again?” Omaric whispered to Illithor.

  Illithor lifted the covers on the other side of the bed. “Good question. Let me try and see what happens. Just stand back.”

  When Illithor was sure Reyden wasn’t startled, he gave Omaric the all clear. Omaric quickly slid under the covers next to Illithor.

  Reyden opened an eye. “Next time, just come in without making it a major hassle.”

  "Next time let us know you're awake and it wouldn't be a major hassle. We've learned that a surprised Reyden is not always a safe Reyden," Illithor retorted.

  "Too true.”

  “That should be embroidered on your cloak as a warning,” quipped Omaric.

  "I'm willing to bet they will be teaching that lesson in schools one day," Illithor predicted.

  “Quiet, or I’ll remove my shoes.”

  "SHHH! Illithor! I don’t want to smell that!" Omaric pleaded.

  Reyden grunted and put a pi
llow over his head. Mercifully, his companions stopped talking and he quickly fell back to sleep.

  Reyden was the first to wake the next morning so he packed his things, snuck out of the room, and made his way downstairs to eat a quick breakfast. As soon as he was done, he headed directly to the jail. Reyden noticed Emory waiting for him outside and couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed before realizing it was probably part of Emory’s job to keep an eye on criminals. He resisted the urge to complain about it though.

  “I’ll wait here,” Emory offered. “Go ahead and get him.”

  Reyden nodded, and then went inside to collect their new addition.

  Reyden threw a pouch on the jailer’s desk. “Give me the elf.”

  The jailer checked the amount, then stuffed the sack in a drawer and locked it. He got up, retrieved the keys, and led Reyden to the back. The jailer banged on the bars to wake the prisoner.

  "You don't have to make so much noise," the elf mumbled with his head still under the blanket. "I'm awake."

  “Let’s go,” Reyden ordered.

  "I’ll have to get dressed first. I hope my clothes are dry by now."

  Reyden smirked at the reminder. He would watch the elf like a hawk until he was finished dressing. There was no way Reyden was going to take it easy on a thief, let alone one who stole from the group. If he could have gotten away with it, he would have hog tied the pickpocket and threw him over his horse until the thief proved trustworthy.

  "I know I'm in great shape but there's no need to gawk," the elf commented while he dressed.

  "I was watching for hidden weapons," Reyden hissed.

  “You have a quick temper I see.”

  “And you are an idiot!”

  "No, not an idiot. Just your everyday thief according to what I've heard."

  “Let’s go, we’re waiting on you.”

  The pickpocket walked through the cell door the jailer had opened. He paused to address the jailer. "You know, a little heat in this place wouldn't be a bad thing.”

  Reyden, annoyed by the elf lagging, grabbed him by the ear and dragged him out of the jail.

  "Don't damage the ears! How do you think I get all that useful information?” The pickpocket paused when he saw the Postulate. “Oh look, you brought your giant—how nice.”

  Reyden shoved him to get him moving again. “He is Postulate Everhart to you.”

  “And you are?” the pickpocket asked Reyden.

  “Trouble,” Reyden replied with an evil grin.

  "I have no doubt about that. When do we leave?"

  Emory grabbed onto the pickpocket’s other arm. “As soon as the others are ready.”

  “Fantastic. I think I’m done with this city for a while.”

  “What are you called?” Emory asked him.

  “Glynneveryn Greenbow, apparently at your service. Those that bother to call me, which aren’t many, call me Glynn.”

  “Let’s go,” Emory said as he led Glynn by the arm towards the Inn.

  Glynn’s stomach rumbled. “I need some decent food.”

  “You do have enough on you to pay for your food?” Reyden inquired sarcastically.

  "I do. I’m just letting you know I have to have time to eat before we leave."

  “There will be time,” Emory promised.

  "Very good then. Can I have my arms back?"

  Reyden and Emory exchanged glances. Since a handful of their companions were still in the main room Reyden released Glynn’s arm and Emory followed suit.

  "If you try to run. I will kill you, no questions asked," Reyden threatened.

  "That would be a shame since you haven't gotten those answers you were looking for. I would also love to see Rafe finally get what's coming to him. Besides, it would be tragic to deny the world my good looks and charm,” Glynn simpered.

  Reyden stopped abruptly and leaned in close to Glynn, his irises darkened until no light reflected in them. Reyden neglected to tell the others that this was an ominous sign. Reyden spoke quietly, another indication of danger.

  "Pickpockets are as common as rodents, no matter how pretty they are. I can always go down into the sewers and find another one to do the same job.”

  Glynn's expression changed as he turned away from Reyden. "You would make that assumption. I want to eat now."

  Reyden was blinded by fury. He couldn't decide what it was about Glynn that set him off and caused him to reach out and grab Glynn by the shoulder with his right hand. Reyden turned him roughly. His left hand came up and made contact with Glynn's chin. The force of the blow was so great, that Glynn fell back and his head caught the edge of the table. The table cracked and Glynn slumped to the floor.

  "Reyden!" came a yell from the top of the stairs. Reyden froze and looked up, watching as Illithor ran the rest of the way down.

  "What are you doing? Let Emory deal with him for now."

  "You defend him even though he stole from you?"

  "I'm looking out for you too. Do you want to be in prison with absolutely no chance of getting your egg back?"

  "We can't give him much leverage or there's no telling what he might pull," Reyden insisted.

  Illithor threw his hands up in surrender as he approached Reyden. Morgan checked on Glynn and told them, “He has a concussion, but he’ll live. Emory, please take him up to our room.”

  Emory picked up the elf and glared at Reyden. “No more stunts like that or I may have to put you in jail Reyden. The pickpocket will be riding with me, for his safety.”

  Reyden shrugged. “As you wish, Postulate.”

  “It looks like we won’t leave today,” Omaric speculated.

  “Hopefully, it should only be a day’s delay,” Morgan replied as he climbed the stairs behind Emory and the unconscious thief.

  Reyden left the inn so he could clear his head. At the stables, he paced, thinking over his options. He muttered angrily to himself. How dare the newbie Postulate threaten him with jail? He was so absorbed in thought, that he didn’t hear the stable door open.

  A voice called softly, “Reyden?”

  Reyden ceased his muttering abruptly. “What do you want?”

  "To make sure you were okay."

  Reyden, who had his back to Morgan, croaked, "I’m fine. How is the pickpocket?"

  "He won't be able to travel until earliest tomorrow, but he lives. We need to talk about what just happened.”

  Reyden turned to face Morgan. "I hate thieves. I tried not to hurt him, but he kept pushing me.”

  "I’m sure you know the meaning of bravado.”

  "He wasn't smart enough to heed the warning. I know when to shut it down."

  "I think he antagonizes out of defense. Did you notice how his face changed when you compared him to a rodent? He completely closed off.”

  Before Reyden could reply, Morgan continued. "I have the impression there is more to your disdain of thieves than just the usual reasons. You can't continue to let him get to you because I doubt he'll survive another altercation with you."

  Reyden sighed. “He needs to quit taunting me.”

  "I think he’s uncertain of what he is getting himself into.”

  "He's a thief. He’s bound to be in trouble. How much more trouble could he get into with us?”

  "No one grows up thinking he or she will enter that line of work. Sometimes it just seems to happen. Once we learn more about his background, we may understand him better.”

  “He didn’t seem the least bit worried about what I would do to him!”

  Morgan paused before answering. “I don't think he expected you to react as quickly and as violently as you did. None of us did. But I doubt he's unafraid of you. I think he's just so practiced at hiding his nerves that he's as good an actor as he is a thief."

  "His talent in that forum is hazardous to his health."

  "Perhaps. I'm going to relieve Deverick now. Come back when you're ready, Omaric was particularly worried about you.”

  "I will speak to the elflings," Reyde
n assured Morgan. "We will still need to keep an eye on Glynn. I don't want to kill him, but I don't trust him."

  “I know.” Morgan placed a hand on Reyden's shoulder. "But I want to point out that your first question was about his welfare."

  Reyden shrugged off Morgan’s hand and walked away, but paused at the open door. "Killing him, would have delayed us."

  Reyden left Morgan in the stables and walked back to the inn to find Omaric. There was no reason to tell them all that the pickpocket had a striking resemblance to Kreymorg. Reyden shuddered involuntarily and viciously shut down memories of his childhood. Reyden thought the less the others knew about him, the better. He was pleased to see Omaric sitting at a table near the doors; it improved his mood tremendously.

  When Omaric noticed Reyden, he announced gladly, “You’re back!”

  Reyden glanced around the room to see if any of the others were there. He saw Illithor sitting at another table reading again. Illithor looked up and watched Reyden warily. Reyden frowned. He was annoyed that Illithor always seemed to be around when he didn’t want any witnesses. That elf was excessively nosey even if he was genuinely kind.

  “What’s wrong Reyden?” asked Omaric.

  “Nothing.”

  "I was worried you might not come back this time.”

  Reyden sat down next to Omaric, then leaned in closer to him, and patted him on the back. "I won’t leave you behind."

  Omaric smiled at Reyden, then jumped up and hugged him.

  Reyden quickly broke away from Omaric. "I'm starving.”

  Omaric looked hurt and Reyden changed the subject. “Do I really want to know how much I owe for the damaged table?”

  "Illithor fixed it."

  “Good. Well he owed me for that meal I bought him, so I guess we’re even now.”

  Omaric tilted his head and gazed at Reyden. "No Reyden, that's what friends do.”

  Reyden looked over at Illithor to see his expression.

  Illithor looked up at Reyden and nodded his head. "The kid has more common sense than you do."

  A dozen emotions seemed to flit across Reyden's features, before he just lamely nodded back at Illithor.

  "Don't worry Reyden, having friends is new to me too.”