“Must you corrupt all that’s good and pure?” Cyril said. “Korak was the greatest adventurer of all time. So stop quoting from that blasted Caravan Rogue.”
“I’ve got it!” Liberon said. “Tomorrow we’ll spend the day packing for our trip.”
Dagorat huffed and stared at him like he had two heads. “What does packing have to do with her?”
“She’ll be part of the luggage.”
“What?” Dagorat cocked his head.
“Cyril will keep her asleep. A few miles out of town we’ll unload her. When she wakes up, she’ll never know where she’s been.”
“I was wrong. You’re not a nobnoggin. You’re an insane nobnoggin.”
“Treat her like baggage? Well, doesn’t that sound most inhumane,” Cyril said.
“It was just a thought. And stop calling me a nob –” A sharp stare from Dagorat cut off his protest. “I know, I know, it’s all my fault.”
“Damn right it is.”
The group resumed their pacing, and all remained quiet for a moment. Then Dagorat halted, rubbing his hands together. “That’s it!”
“What?” the others asked.
“Before, I said we can’t release her because she’ll run to Shadowtooth.”
Cyril bobbed his chin. “That’s what you said.”
A sly grin grew on Dagorat’s face. “So then maybe we should let her go.”
“Oh! I get it,” Liberon said. “We release her and follow her. She’ll lead us right to Shadowtooth, and maybe even the Orb.”
Dagorat put his hands on the young man’s shoulders. “Now you’re thinking like a rogue.” Maybe he shouldn’t have called the lad a nobnoggin. Perhaps his sheltered life had made him naïve, but he showed promise. The line of thought made him pause. Would Liberon be able to remain a monk after a taste of adventure? Or would a worldy experience corrupt his innocence too far for him to go back?
“I have an idea as well.” Cyril stroked his goatee. “Something which should make following her all the more easier.” He grabbed a lantern and darted off to the basement. Liberon and Dagorat followed close behind.
At the bottom of the stairs, the flickering lantern revealed a dusty room dominated by a long, polished stone table. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls, crammed with flasks of various liquids and jars of powder. Cyril opened a cabinet and removed a bottle filled with a golden liquid. He held it up. “With this, you can follow her from a distance and never lose her.”
“How does it work?” Liberon asked.
“Douse the lantern and you’ll understand,” Cyril said.
Dagorat snuffed the flame. To his surprise, he could still see his friend, illuminated by the bright glowing bottle in his hand.
“This is an extract made from night flies.” Cyril searched noisily through another cabinet. “There should be some brushes here.” Having found one, he handed the brush and bottle to Liberon. “Paint a large circle on her cloak. Then she’ll be easy to track.”
“Other people will see this glowing stuff too. Won’t they?” Liberon said.
“A clumsy scheme, I must admit. But if she leads us to Shadowtooth and the Orb, it’s a chance we must take.”
Dagorat yawned. It had been a long day, and now it wouldn’t be over any time soon.
“Are you sleepy? This day has been quite taxing,” Cyril said.
“Aye. Do you have anything to keep me awake?”
“I can keep you awake for days, if necessary.” The mage grabbed a ewer from the table, poured some water into a glass, and opened another cabinet. He took out a flask of blue liquid, spilled a single drop into the water, and offered it to him. “This should keep you awake and alert for at least six more hours.”
Dagorat held up the glass. “May the Solstice sun soothe your souls.” He swigged the potion. Mmm. Sweet berries. “How long before she wakes up?”
“On her own? Another hour or so. Though I can wake her again now, if you like.”
“No. I want her to wake up later, with everything quiet and still.”
A surge of energy roared through his veins as the potion took effect. He stared, fascinated, at the lines of his fingerprint, the swirls standing out as if embossed on his skin. The sensory effects faded a moment later, leaving him invigorated.
They trooped upstairs to Katrina. Dagorat cut away her bonds and placed her on the floor while Liberon painted a large circle on the back of her cloak.
“We’ll need to find a good place to let her awaken,” Cyril said.
“I’ll just put her out the side door in the alley.”
“Right by the house? And you called young Liberon a nobnoggin.”
“I’m sure she’s realized I’m no fool. So she’ll assume we took the trouble to move her far away from where we’d been holding her.” He grinned at his own cunning.
“What if she retraces her steps back here? She strikes me as a clever one,” Cyril said.
“She hasn’t seen our faces, except Liberon, which we can fix with a large hood,” Dagorat said. “Both of you go and get some rest. I’ll be up all night.”
Cyril yawned. “Perhaps you’re right.” He beckoned to Liberon. “Come along, young Scorpion. I’ll show you to the guest room.” The two headed upstairs, leaving Dagorat alone.
He extinguished all the lanterns, went to the kitchen and cracked open the side door to peek outside. When he detected no one else present, he opened it further until the whole alley came into view. The streets had fallen still. He folded a large sack, courtesy of the Guild Enforcers, and deposited it outside, near the door. Then he returned to the consultation room, slung Katrina over his shoulder and brought her out.
Squatting down, he gently situated her on the ground and let her head come to rest on the folded sack. In her slumber, she looked innocent and pure. Staring at her face, an unfamiliar longing seized hold of him. His hand reached out to stroke her cheek, but he stopped himself. Beautiful or not, she was a mouse, and one of Shadowtooth’s minions. He shook his head and stood resolutely. The search for the Orb took precedence over his inconvenient attraction. Dagorat withdrew across the street, where he reversed his cloak and waited for Katrina to wake.
After an hour, something moved in the alley. Katrina stumbled into view, the glowing circle on her back shining in the darkness. I can follow her from hundreds of feet away. She turned in all different directions, as if trying to establish her orientation. Then she rubbed her eyes and started off toward Bister Square, straight toward the Thieves’ Guild. But Shadowtooth wouldn’t be there; a crafty rogue like him was too sly to stay put when people asked questions. Maybe he was holed up nearby, though.
He crept up to the corner of the alley and peeked around. The glowing circle showed Katrina clear as day. Dagorat followed, staying far behind, careful not to make a sound. He kept to the shadows, in case she looked back.
A half a mile past the square, Katrina hurried into the Guild. Dagorat stayed outside, and made his way to the Maple Street exit. There he hid until the door swung open and someone emerged. The dark figure ran eastward, the glowing circle on her back drawing his gaze. Damn! Hard to stay concealed in a running pursuit.
He leaped from his hiding place and chased her. She turned north onto Stargazer Lane. At the intersection he had to slow down and sneak a peek around the corner, just in time to spot the glowing circle round the next corner. Why was she running around the building? Odd. But he had no time to pause and think. Intent on closing the gap, he skidded around the next corner. From the shadows, with no warning, a stinging blow to his temple knocked him to the ground.
Head throbbing, he lay still, feigning unconsciousness. With one eye cracked open, he assessed his surroundings. The chase had brought him back to the Guild entrance. Blood trickled from his temple into his hair. He should have been knocked out. Cyril’s potion must have prevented it.
From his right came Katrina’s voice. “Tie him up.”
A hand grabbed his left arm. Dagorat rolled over and t
hrust with Frostbite, penetrating the offending hand. He twisted the blade and brought the owner to his knees – one of the same Enforcers from earlier. The man screamed in agony. He shrieked again when Dagorat yanked the dirk out, but a quick kick to the face knocked the Enforcer out.
In the sudden silence, he stared at Katrina, seething. How had he let himself be duped by her innocent face? “Poor planning, little mouse. You have no escape.”
Slowly, she backed away from him. Her eyes filled with wonder, and a touch of fear. “That blow should’ve put any man down.”
“I’m better than any man you’ve ever met.”
Across the street, a pair of shutters opened, spilling out light which illuminated the niche. An old man’s voice rang out. “Hey, you! Get away from her! I’ll call the constable, I will!” A high pitched whistle sounded, echoing through the streets.
“Damn! You’re more trouble than you’re worth.” He grabbed Katrina’s arm. “C’mon, let’s go.”
“No!” She wrenched her arm from his grasp.
“Fine. When the constables come, I’ll tell them all about your involvement with Shadowtooth’s big job. You want that?”
She shook her head.
“Then come on!”
Without further resistance, she ran up the street with Dagorat close behind. They found a small alley off Bister Square and hid behind a pile of empty barrels. After he caught his breath, Dagorat whispered, “How’d you know I was following you?”
“The Guild is dark and my friend Goldbug noticed the artwork on my cloak. Of course I was being followed, why else would there be a huge target on my back?”
“What’s your connection to Shadowtooth?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not lying. He helped me out once, is all. You know, got me established here in Mentiria.” She placed her fists on her hips. “I hate him. Can’t keep his damn hands to himself.”
“But you’re afraid of him.”
“Who isn’t?” Her head bowed.
So her allegiance wasn’t sealed to anyone. Perhaps they’d been going about this the wrong way. They’d discussed the possibility of keeping her captive or using her to find information. But what if they recruited her as an ally? If she wasn’t bound to Shadowtooth, she might be willing. He made up his mind to try. “You’re right to be afraid. Shadowtooth doesn’t know the dangers involved with what he stole. He only sees its value in gold. But this isn’t about money. The lives of everyone in the three kingdoms are in danger. Elves, Halflings, Gnomes – everyone, north and south of the Spine.”
She sneered at him. “Pfft. You can’t be serious.”
He returned her stare with stone cold eyes. “By Korak’s chafed ass, listen. He stole a relic from those monks. But it’s a powerful weapon. If he should accidentally trigger its power, there’s no telling how many will die. Never mind what will happen if he delivers it to the buyers.” Still not knowing if he could trust her, he didn’t dare be more specific.
Katrina inched closer, staring intently into his eyes, as if judging his very soul. He stood his ground, staring back, trying to convey his sincerity. After a long moment, she took a small step back. “Oh, my. I can tell when someone’s lying, and you’re not. You are serious.”
Dagorat held up Frostbite, the blood from the Enforcer’s hand still drying on the blade. Katrina backed away. He took out a rag, wiped the blade clean and sheathed it. “Will you help me?”
Slowly, she dipped her chin and sighed.
Excellent. “Where is Shadowtooth?”
She shook her head. “He left after the incident earlier and hasn’t come back.”
“Who is he, then? Tell me about him.”
“Once he was only a thief like me. But…” She glanced at the ground, as if trying to find the right words there.
“But what? C’mon, spit it out.”
“Now the Thieves’ Guild belongs to him. Shadowtooth is the Archmaster. He’s never in want of gold because all the members pay him tribute.”
Interesting. He’d suspected Shadowtooth was high up in the Guild, though perhaps not that high. If Dagorat wasn’t in hiding, it would be so much easier to keep abreast of these things. His instincts led him to believe her. “Then they must’ve paid him a hefty sum to steal this thing.”
She answered with a nod. “Must’ve been huge. Or he had some other reason of his own. Can’t ever tell what he’s thinking. He’s usually rough, but then some days he’s very quiet. Sometimes he even refuses to see anyone, or conduct Guild business.”
“What about the monks from Farmstead Abbey? Have you ever seen him with one of them?”
“No. But now that you mention it, about a year ago, he did put some of the streets near the abbey on the protected list. You know, no thieving of any kind.”
Dagorat needed time to digest all this new information, and decided to cut off the questioning for the night. Could he let her go? His Mage-Sense remained quiet. Trusting her carried a lot of risk. But she represented their best chance to learn more about Shadowtooth. A chance he had to take. “Do you know the bookshop nearby?”
“Yeah, Abernathy and someone.” She cocked her head. “Why?”
“Be there at noon tomorrow, or at least in Bister Square. For now, head back to the Guild. See if you can find anything else out about the job.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Anything but that. I don’t want to end up like Korlabber the Back Stabber.” She referenced the villain who betrayed the main character in The Caravan Rogue. He’d had his limbs torn off by four horses. Betrayal among rogues meant a horrible death.
“You won’t. You’re helping a fellow rogue,” he said, pointing to himself. “If it comes to that, I’ve got a lot of pull at the Guild myself. They wouldn’t dare punish anyone who’s helping me.” A bold-faced lie, but Dagorat did it well.
She closed her eyes and agreed.
“Good. Still, best to avoid that whole scenario if we can. So let’s make your escape from me more convincing.” He grabbed her hand and scraped the back of it against the wall.
“Arouch!” She clutched her wound. “Are you crazy?” After a moment she winced. “You’re right. It’s going to take more than some scraped knuckles. Cut my sleeve, too.”
Dagorat obliged, and used the tip of the blade to draw a thin line of blood.
Katrina winced. “Let’s get it over with.” She closed her eyes and offered her cheek.
Was she demanding a kiss? He was never one to turn down an opportunity. After a bob of his shoulders, he leaned in and pecked her ivory cheek with his lips.
She pulled back and stared into his eyes, then wound up and slapped him. Hard. “You’re supposed to punch me, you nobnoggin!”
He rubbed his stinging cheek, completely confused. “It’s what I thought you wanted.”
Eyes narrowed, she grabbed him by his shirt and pressed ardent lips to his. His mind went completely blank. After a long blissful moment, Katrina pulled away and stroked his hair. “Did you like that?”
“Um…well…um.” His body tingled. He struggled to find some words, anything which kept him from sounding idiotic. “Nice.”
“If I wanted a kiss, that’s how I would’ve asked.” Another hard slap rocked his head back. “Now punch me.”
Dagorat had never struck a woman before, but now he owed her. Besides, the damage would make her story more credible to the Guild, especially the Enforcers. “Get ready.” His fist flew fast and landed on the corner of her mouth. She groaned and fell back against the wall. Once she regained her composure and straightened up, Dagorat hit her again. This time she crumpled to the ground. Standing over her small figure, a faint sensation of regret almost took hold of him. Almost. “That one should give you a black eye.”
Katrina held out her hand and Dagorat helped her stand. Blood trickled from her lip, and her right eye swelled. She swayed, grabbed him for support, and rested her head on his chest. Startled, he instinctively put h
is arms around her to hold her steady. Peculiar waves of warmth flowed from his core to his extremities for an instant.
A stabbing pain funneled through him. His teeth bit hard, drawing blood from his lip. Every muscle collapsed. He hunched over and fell to his knees, then keeled over into the fetal position.
She crouched next to him. “There’s nothing more disarming than a knee to the crotch.” Then she punched him below the left eye. “That should give you a black eye, too.” She laughed as she backed away. “Not many people can get the better of me.”
He managed to speak through the haze of pain. “Is Shadowtooth one of them?”
No answer. Her hips swayed under her cloak as she stalked away. Waiting for the agony to subside, he stayed put.
Dagorat had known many others like Katrina during his time as a master rogue in Easterly. Usually lacking family and friends, left to fend on their own, they grew like wild grass. Guile and deception were what let them survive, rather than love and compassion. “The children of neglect,” Cyril named them. Katrina might be a hard person, but she’d probably had to be. He had a certain admiration for her confidence and cunning mind. Grinning, he gingerly touched his cheek. Not to mention her right cross.
The pain subsided, and he lurched to his feet. As an added precaution, in case she tried to follow him, he decided not to go directly home. Back on Sheep Street, he drew near the Ales and Tales pub, where a small sign under the main one read, “Mead, Music, and More.” He chuckled ruefully as he passed the niche where he’d confronted Maynard this morning, and decided to stop in. This day had been long and trying, and the idea of a drink appealed to him.
He entered the pub, where cheerful voices, smoke, and clatter filled his senses. Wooden floors made for soft walking, and the wattle-and-daub walls and long tables created a relaxing atmosphere. A large stage took up a good quarter of the place. Dagorat approached the bar and ordered some honey mead. He made his way over to an open seat at the end of a bench as a curtain opened to reveal the next performer.
A Dwarf strolled onstage. People thumped their mugs or fists on the tables and chanted, “Gori, Gori, Gori!” When the cheer tapered off, the dancing area emptied and a hush came over the room. The first chords rang from Gori’s lute, and then he sang:
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