Jessica slipped out of the Dragon without another word.
“Why do I get the sense that you’re more troubled than you’re letting on,” Wrenlow said.
“It was something Zella mentioned. That the Fates were responsible for all of the magical maneuvering in the world.”
“And you believe her?”
“I don’t have a reason not to, and given that she seemed to believe it, I at least have to consider the possibility,” Gavin said. “I don’t think the enchanters have much experience with the magical world, but they might have enough to know certain things I don’t.” He looked up at Wrenlow. “You and I have dealt with many different magical beings over the years, but there are limits to what we know about magic.”
Wrenlow smiled. “Thankfully.”
Gavin began to pace again, and his mind started piecing through the jobs he’d taken over the years—specifically, the year he’d been in Yoran. A different job came back to him, an early job that he had done for Tristan.
He had returned to Tristan, having stolen a small ceramic bowl.
“How did you feel when you took it?” Tristan had asked. He was older than Gavin, though Gavin had never learned by how much. Tristan had seemed considerably older than him during the time when Gavin had studied under him, though that might’ve just been his imagination.
Tristan had dark hair with streaks of gray running through it. He wasn’t a large man, though he was stronger than he looked. Faster too. He always defeated Gavin. There had only been one time where Gavin had gotten close to stopping his teacher, and that had been when he unloaded all the power of his core reserves into attempting to stop him.
Gavin had been inside of a small room, with a hearth much like the one in the Dragon. The room had been decorated well, with the paneled walls painted a deep brown, and statues and paintings all around it. A plush carpet had covered the floor. Gavin always remembered carpet, as the barracks had none, and it always struck him as something warm and inviting, regardless of the truth of that matter.
“Scared,” Gavin admitted.
Tristan smiled at him, as he always did when Gavin said he was afraid.
Gavin waited for the inevitable strike. Not only did he know that he shouldn’t always acknowledge his fear, but he also knew that he shouldn’t always admit it to Tristan. Only, in this case, he thought that it was necessary.
“Fear is natural when you’re dealing with this,” Tristan said. “You did well.”
“I barely got out of there,” Gavin replied.
“But you got out.”
Gavin glanced at the bowl. “What is this?”
“A signifier of your ability,” Tristan said.
Gavin studied the ceramic bowl. It was painted a pale blue, and there were strange markings along it, letters he couldn’t read. In hindsight, Gavin knew the bowl was El’aras in origin, though he didn’t think the home that he’d broken into and stolen it from had been an El’aras home.
“Did you face any particular challenges? Anything more than what we had discussed?”
Gavin shook his head. “There was a trick to getting in the door.”
“What trick was that?”
“You said I had to focus on my core strength to open it,” Gavin said.
By then, he had already broken through the leathers and had begun to break through chains, demonstrating his ability to shatter things around him. At the time, Gavin had thought it was only a matter of knowing the power within him was part of his core reserves, but now he wasn’t so sure. Now he didn’t know whether there was something else, some other way that Tristan tried to test him. Perhaps Tristan had already known that he had the power within him, some sort of magic.
Tristan nodded. “And it worked.”
“It worked,” Gavin said.
“What about when you were inside?”
Gavin smiled. “There wasn’t anyone there. We didn’t have to worry about it.”
That had been his concern when he was breaking into the house. Tristan had warned him that there might be one of three different people home, and if they were, then he was to dispatch them. Gavin had no hesitation dispatching people when it came to the kinds of jobs that Tristan assigned him—but in this case, to simply steal a bowl—Gavin didn’t think there was any reason to do so.
He looked down at the bowl and traced his finger along the surface of it. “All that trouble, just for this. What is it?”
“I already told you. It’s a marker.”
“A marker of what?”
“Fate.” Tristan didn’t look up. He stared at the bowl for a long time, saying nothing else.
Gavin shook his head, tearing himself away. In all the jobs he’d taken for Tristan, that was one of the strangest. It hadn’t been all that difficult. Gavin had been forced to use his core reserves—possibly magic—to break into the door, but nothing else. He hadn’t needed to kill. He hadn’t needed to fight. All he’d needed to do was take the bowl.
He thought about Tristan’s response and how he had acted, and he still didn’t know what to make of it. Perhaps there was nothing to it.
Since learning that Tristan still lived, Gavin hadn’t gone after him yet. He needed to, mostly so he could figure out why Tristan had concealed his own death and resurrection from him.
He took a deep breath and let it out. The door opened, and Gaspar strode in with Jessica, followed by Imogen. Jessica tugged on her brown braid, pulling it around to her left shoulder, biting her lip as she studied Gaspar and then Imogen.
Imogen remained quiet, as usual. She took up a position near the door, though she nodded to Gavin. She was short and thin, and her dark hair always shielded her eyes, giving her a mysterious quality.
“What is this?” Gaspar asked as he laid eyes on Gavin.
“Something new. The Captain is dead. A sorcerer attacked.”
Gaspar glanced to Imogen. “Dead?”
“And he was moving enchantments. Probably even responsible for those you pulled me in on.”
“That bastard,” Gaspar muttered.
“Now we’ve got something worse to deal with.” He told them about the Fate and what Zella had said.
“What makes you think he’s sticking around? If he got what he’s after, that might be it.”
Maybe. Gavin couldn’t get past what the Captain had said.
Don’t let him take it.
But take what?
“I don’t think he’s done. He was going somewhere when I caught up to him.”
Gaspar watched him for a long moment before nodding. “I will see what I can find from the enchanters.”
“Thank you,” Jessica said.
“After I get some rest, I’m going to see if I can find where they were going,” Gavin said.
Find the Fate, figure out what he took, then…
He didn’t know.
If he had to face the Fate again, would he survive?
Chapter Eight
Gavin sat up. He had needed a little bit of rest, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He was still tired, though not nearly as exhausted as he had been before. At least now he didn’t feel as if he had been using his core reserves to the point of emptiness. He dressed quickly and came down the stairs into the tavern and looked over at Jessica. She sat alone, a stack of papers in front of her. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table as she rubbed her temple. Her apron was draped over her shoulder, and again she looked tired. Weary.
He approached and took a seat across from her. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going through my debt,” she said. “Ever since the attack, I haven’t been as profitable as what I need to be.” She looked up at him, smiling tightly. “I do have debtors, Gavin.”
“I could help.”
She laughed softly. “Help with what? Paying for my tavern? No. I’m responsible for it, and I’m not going to have somebody else do anything I should be doing for myself.”
Gavin nodded. “I understand.”
/>
“Do you?”
“I understand you want to be independent and to make sure you’re able to cover your finances.”
She shook her head. “It’s more than just that, Gavin.”
“What else is it?”
“Eventually, you’re going to leave here. You don’t have to deny it. We both know it’s true. When you do, I’m not going to be able to depend upon you taking care of me.”
Gavin leaned back. He had considered leaving several times before. Each time he gave it much thought, he realized that perhaps now wasn’t quite the right time for him to depart. Something else always came up, prompting him to stay. It was almost as if he were meant to be in Yoran. Maybe it was more that he needed to be. Cyran had certainly coordinated things so that Gavin ended up in the city, and ever since then, odd things had been happening that were forcing him to stay.
“I don’t know that you ever depended upon me taking care of you,” he said.
“Perhaps not quite like that, but I’ve allowed myself to become more dependent on you than I typically would be.”
Gavin looked around the tavern. It was empty and late enough in the evening that he would’ve expected to find the tavern full—at least when he had first come to Yoran. Before the attack, the Dragon would’ve been occupied with various patrons, a musician or two, and servers making sure that everyone had the food and drink they needed.
Recently, none of that had been the case.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “When you decide to move on, I’m going to be fine.”
“I know you will be,” Gavin said.
She smiled at him. “I’m stronger than you give me credit for.”
“I haven’t tried to say you weren’t.”
“I know you haven’t,” she whispered.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just that you act as if you have to protect me, but that’s not necessary.”
“When the tavern is attacked because of me, I feel like I’m responsible for it.” He hesitated. This wasn’t the conversation he intended to have with her, but maybe it was overdue. “Would you prefer I leave now?”
She looked down at her hands for a moment before glancing up at him. “No.”
Gavin swallowed. “I…” He wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it, knowing only that he felt as if there was something more he needed to be telling her. For now, he simply said nothing. “I suppose I need to figure out where the Fate was going.”
She nodded. “I’ll be here.” She glanced around the tavern before looking back down at the table, then started sorting through her papers.
Gavin took another look back at Jessica before heading out onto the street. He wandered past a general store. He started toward the part of the city where he’d been attacked by the Fate when he saw something that made him slow.
Shadows loomed in the distance, swirling around the street like a fog. Several constables patrolled near it. The fog seemed to move… and then one of the constables dropped.
The fallen constable didn’t get up.
Gavin hurried over to the fallen man. He was still alive. His skin was cool, almost cold, and though he had a bracelet on either wrist—enchantments, surely—he had nothing else on him that would identify him as a constable.
Dark shadows swirled around him, pressing on either side.
He pulled the constable to the side of the road, propping him up against a nearby building. He needed to get the man help. This would also be an easy way for him to ingratiate himself with Davel Chan, especially given the tension between them ever since the attack on the Captain’s home. Gavin needed to keep peace—at least as much as possible, considering how he had possession of the jade egg, something the constables wanted back from him.
A shout echoed down the street. The other constable? Gavin checked on the man, making sure that he was fine, before darting forward.
When he rounded a corner, he found another constable—probably the other one he’d seen—lying on the ground, resting near one of the streetlights. Much like the other, this man twitched.
What was going on?
The constable was alive, though his skin was not cold like the last one’s had been.
Gavin checked him over, searching for any sign of other injuries, but found nothing. Either he had been jumped, hit in the head, or…
The El’aras dagger started to glow softly.
Or has it been glowing the entire time?
Gavin hadn’t been paying attention to it, which meant that it likely had been glowing. He simply hadn’t noticed.
Balls.
Could this be the Fate?
He got to his feet, sweeping his gaze along the street. It was too dark for him to make out much of anything, almost supernaturally so. Could there be any sorcery presence here? He held on to the El’aras dagger, though it didn’t glow nearly as much as what he feared it might. As he swept the dagger around, he searched for movement within those shadows. He couldn’t find anything.
Gavin slipped down a nearby alley, scrambled up the wall, and crouched on one of the nearby rooftops. He lowered himself so that he blended in with the darkness as he surveyed the street.
It didn’t take long before he saw movement. A single figure strode down the street, darkness swirling around them.
A sorcerer. It had to be the Fate that had attacked Gavin the night before.
Gavin watched for a few moments before jumping to the next building, and then to the next. It didn’t seem as if the Fate had seen him.
Yet.
He jumped to the next rooftop, still watching the sorcerer as they strode along the street. They seemed unmindful of his presence. Still, whatever magic they used to make the darkness swirl around them was impressive.
Gavin smiled. He would move quickly, to catch the sorcerer and question them. He needed to know everything about why they were in the city.
He jumped down from the rooftop and landed on the street, then darted forward. He held on to the El’aras dagger before changing his mind and sheathing it. He grabbed the sword instead. The dagger might be easier for him to maneuver in tight quarters, but the sword would be more beneficial against a sorcerer. They knew magic, but they didn’t know traditional weaponry.
Especially as it glowed under the magic that the sorcerer used.
He reached the spot where he had first seen the shadowed figure. Gavin started to slow, sweeping his gaze around the street. It was empty. Stone storefronts pressed inward, and the occasional breeze pulled at a few signs. A small tree interrupted the flow of buildings here, a spindly bells tree that Gavin knew to avoid, much like the buildings seemed to avoid it.
Where had he gone?
He checked his pocket, making sure that he had another bundle of enchanted ropes. Hopefully, these would work better than the last, and he could wind them around in a better pattern.
He reached another intersection and paused, looking in either direction, but he didn’t see anything. Night was dark around him. Darker than it should have been.
Somewhere distant, someone cried out.
Could that be another constable?
Why was the Fate attacking them?
So much for the Fate leaving after getting what he wanted from the Captain.
Gavin was on the periphery of the city, which abutted the forest. Most of these cottages were smaller, more run-down, a few in need of roof repairs, and obviously owned by those without nearly as much wealth. It was a wonder that the constables even patrolled it.
Another shout. This one was closer.
He raced forward. The dark fog swirling around him looked something like smoke, though it was denser than any smoke he’d seen before. He held out the sword, sweeping it in front of him as he ran, the glowing light carving through the darkness and guiding him forward.
He found another constable, then another, and then another.
Gavin looked up.
Three constables down in one part of
the city?
Where was the sorcerer?
He raced forward after checking each of the constables, making sure that they were all still alive, and stopped at the edge of the forest.
There was no sign of anything or anyone.
One of the constables behind him cried out, and Gavin turned back. He wanted to chase the sorcerer into the forest, but at the same time, he also felt as if he needed to help the injured.
Even if it meant helping one of the constables.
“I’m going to find you,” he whispered to the Fate.
Wind suddenly gusted around him, and it seemed as if the forest whispered back.
He had to find where the Fate was hiding—before anything else happened.
Gavin crept forward, following the flow of traffic on the street. The crowd seemed smaller, with people hurrying along on their tasks without looking around themselves the way they normally would. Could the people detect the presence of the sorcerer? He’d not noticed that with sorcerers in the city before, but then Gavin hadn’t paid attention to it, either.
None of the constables had been permanently injured, though he had waited by them until other constables on patrol had arrived. He gave them space as they found their fallen colleagues, careful not to linger. He didn’t want to be blamed for what happened but wanted to ensure that somebody arrived to bring them out of the streets. It wouldn’t do for another sorcerer or somebody else to suddenly appear and attack them.
He still didn’t have an answer as to what had happened or why the sorcerer had attacked constables. Gavin had searched for evidence of additional attacks but found nothing. No other constables were injured. There was no other sign of the strange sorcerer, and no other glow from his sword or dagger to indicate magic used around him.
It was now early morning, and his few hours of sleep had restored him enough that he at least thought he wouldn’t have to worry about getting overpowered by somebody. If he were to come across the Fate, at least he had enough strength—and core reserves—that he might be able to call upon the power so he could break free. Not that he wanted to have to do that, plus he didn’t think a sorcerer would attack openly in the middle of daytime either.
The Fates of Yoran (The Chain Breaker Book 3) Page 9