Chapter List

oo dangerous, Excellency,” Enken said. “You know what happened the last time.”

“If I can sense the treasures have been discovered, so can our enemies,” the dark-cowled woman replied. She walked slowly, using her gnarled, tall, skull-capped staff step by step for support. “I must know what is happening aboard that ship.”

Enken stepped deftly through small groups of people, trying his best to clear a path for his benefactress. The Prince Branven Square marketplace was always crowded. The noise and the ever-present pall of cooking fires, perfumes both pleasant and unpleasant, and the damp odors of a dozen species of livestock made early evening in the Gacenar capital an inconvenient series of surprises for both the customers and the merchants.

“Wouldn’t seeing be as good as being there?” he asked, grinning as if he had just solved one of the great mysteries of life.

Reina’s expression was not visible under the shadows of her cowl, but Enken optimistically presumed she was pleased. She wore long, dusty, tattered robes and heavy twin iron chains around her waist. Her cloak and cape were made of the finest taire cloth: shining black with deep purple lining, and embroidered with silverhair. An expensive-looking scabbard holding a finely crafted dagger hung from her waist.

“I need talonwater to scry into another dimension,” Reina replied. “Brewing the reagents would take weeks.”

“But that’s only if you require a portal as well, is it not?” Enken asked.

“I have often wondered why you never embarked on a study of the arcane,” Reina replied. “Your aptitude is considerable.”

“Let’s step inside the Plum Barrel,” Enken said, relieved to have an excuse to veer off from his course straight into the teeth of the slow-motion human stampede.

Enken was Reina’s Chamberlain. His duty was to represent her office when she was not able. He also felt a keen instinct to protect her from the many dangers she and her people faced. Nevertheless, he forced himself to refrain from offering her a hand up the steps. Enken had learned long ago that despite her apparent frailty, the Vicereine of Kulnas did not appreciate being treated as if she were too weak to stand. Movement was difficult and often painful, but it was something she was prepared to face if the destination was worthwhile. After a few slow, climbing steps with the support of her staff, Reina and Enken reached the door of the Plum Barrel.

The sound of conversation and activity in the tavern abruptly ceased as the Vicereine passed the threshold into the main parlor. The lamps inside actually dimmed. The table of patrons nearest the door emptied, and its former occupants wended their way through the crowd to the farthest corners, carrying their flagons and looking back over their shoulders as they scurried away.

“I’ll be a–” the proprietor muttered, just before his face almost literally exploded into a forced smile. “Excellency! How good of you to join us! Have a little of our apple wine. It takes the chill off a dusky winter’s–”

Reina stood in the doorway. Her staff loomed over her. A few grayish-white locks of hair curled from under her cowl. The proprietor’s face seemed to slide down his skull as his eyebrows flattened. Every person in the room stared.

The gold, gemstones and silver of the rings on all four fingers of Reina’s gray-skinned left hand caught the light of the small lamps on each of the Plum Barrel’s tables. On anyone else’s person, such an opulent display of wealth might have been considered rude. On a Scribe Arcanist’s fingers, however, valuable-looking rings and chains were just as often reminders that some of the deadliest weapons needed neither bulk nor edge.

The proprietor swallowed and gritted his teeth behind closed lips. It seemed as if a ball of ice had formed in his throat. He was a portly man: tall and loud. His garish, untamed moustache and beady expression found themselves at home on a man whose sole occupation was pouring liquids from bottles and encouraging cheap iniquities with guffaw and glad-hand.

“What can I offer you?” He managed to exhale the words as if each were casks of sopwater he was pushing over a muddy barricade.

“I require a fine water glass,” Reina replied.

Continue to Chapter Six