“SO
WHY ARE THERE NO ZYDER in any of
the other
kingdoms?” Tomment asked Bigsby.
“That is a long story,” the zyder
answered.
“And we have a long road ahead of us,”
countered
Tomment.
“Good point,” chuckled Bigsby. The boy
had become
his constant companion since Sylvia
distanced
herself from them. He enjoyed the boy’s
wit. “Well,
the zyder are not well liked among the
two races
that sired us. Neither the brownies or
the nymphs
would allow us to live among them.”
“That’s awful,” Tomment commented. “Not
even your parents?”
“Only till we were grown,” Bigsby
explained,
“You have to understand that both races
are very
magical beings. They see our lack of
any magical
abilities as a weakness, a curse from
the gods for an
unholy union.”
“So they left you to the woods to die?”
“Yes, but the zyder banned together and
made a
strong settlement for ourselves. We
learned to make
ales and shape wood. The humans loved
our
wares.”
“Then why aren’t there more of you in
other
kingdoms?”
“The zyder are not made for battle.”
Bigsby saw
Tomment look at him with a smile.
“Well, most of us
I mean. The humans soon found it easier
and more
profitable for them to take us as
slaves instead of
buying our wares.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tomment said.
“This was all before my time.”
“So no one would help the zyder?”
“Only King G’Leaze. My mother fled to
Kings
Overlook when our settlement was
broken. She
begged the king to help her people. The
king offered
the zyder a place in his kingdom and
the protection
of his realm.”
“At least the tale has a happy ending,”
Tomment
concluded.
“Not if Kings Overlook falls,” Bigsby
reminded
him. “There is still a good market for
zyder slaves in
the free cities.”
“King G’Leaze will find a way,” Tomment
assured
him.
Bigsby hoped Tomment was right. The
Steel
Tide was no small opponent. Even with
the Peasant
Army, there was little hope for
victory, and now
they were missing. He found no signs of
battle in the
valley. All three armies were just
gone.
“So what do you think happened in the
valley?”
Tomment asked, as if he were thinking
the same
thing.
“I don’t know.” Bigsby answered. “Only
thing I
can think of is the Vale men somehow
surprised
them and took them captive.”
“Never heard of an eneth being taken
hostage.”
“I didn’t say it was a good idea, just
the only one
I have. We should know more when we get
to
Toth.”
“There is this spell, I haven’t learned
it yet, but it
can transport whole armies across
hundreds of miles
in a blink of an eye.”
“But why would someone want to
transport all
three armies?”
“I didn’t say it was a good idea, just
an idea,” countered
Tomment. They both laughed at their
inability
to come up with a reasonable
explanation.
“Think she will let us break before we
reach
Toth?” Tomment asked, rubbing his lower
back. The
road had become more stable, but it was
still far
from comfortable for the girl and the
mage.
“I doubt it.”
“How does she think we are going to
find this
assassin in a city we’ve never been
to?”
“Somehow, I get the feeling if the
killer is there,
he will find us,” Bigsby said.
“Remember, she was
his true target.”
“Maybe we should be hiding her, instead
of delivering
her to him.”
“Not many places you can hide from
Hemlock,
or so I’ve heard,” Bigsby said.
“Still, why make it easy for him?”
“Caitlin G’Leaze once told me,” Bigsby
explained,
“if you don’t want to be hunted, become
the
hunter.”
“Do War Masters always speak in
riddles?”
Bigsby took a moment to consider the
question.
“Yes, always,” he confirmed. To most
people the
boy’s constant questions would have
been annoying.
Bigsby however, found it refreshing.
Not many of
the zyder cared about things around
them. Their
lack of curiosity made them boring.
Bigsby much
preferred the company of an outsider to
his own
race.
The party was able to see the city in
the distance
for quite a while. The flat, open
landscapes of Vale
made it appear to be just a half-day’s
ride. They had
been riding for almost the whole day,
and didn’t
seem to close the gap at all. The dream
of being in
Toth by mid-sun passed them by.
It was near nightfall before the group
made the
gates of Toth. The gates were closed
for the night
just after they passed through. Another
hour and
they would have spent the night camping
outside
the city walls. From the looks of the
inside, Bigsby
didn’t think that would have been a bad
option.
The smell of sewage was overwhelming in
the
streets. A beggar staked claim to each
street corner,
and often physically fought off the
intrusions of others.
Dirty-faced children ran up and down
the
streets, begging and stealing whatever
they could.
Alleyways were filled with the dead or
dying as the
city folk walked by uncaring. It was
worse than
Bigsby remembered it.
The sights didn’t seem to bother
Sylvia. She rode
on, ignoring the cries of hungry
beggars and starving
children alike. The girl never looked
back to see
if her party still followed her. Bigsby
didn’t think
she cared one way or the other. When
Bigsby and
Tomment made the decision to head for
the Valley
of No Night, she didn’t even bat an
eye. She just
asked Bigsby which way she should ride
for Toth,
and took off without so much as a
“Goodbye.”
They all knew it was Hemlock who killed
Ser
Larkel. Sylvia was the only one not
bothered by the
thought of battling a famous assassin.
In fact, the
zyder had the feeling she meant to do
it alone.
“Sometimes I think you are trying to
lose us,”
Tomment told Sylvia. Bigsby and the
mage brought
their steeds to a run to catch up to
her.
“Sometimes, I am,” Sylvia replied.
The honesty of the answer shocked both
men
into silence. Bigsby knew it would fall
to him to
keep the girl out of trouble. The
assassin would
come looking for her, and he would have
to be
ready.
They rode on, looking for the good side
of town;
however, the whole place appeared to be
in the
same disrepair. The party picked an inn
in the middle
of the walled city. Called “The
Grinning Griffon,”
it looked to be the best choice. It had
fewer patrons
lying on the ground outside the door,
at least.
Bigsby was the first to enter the inn.
The inside
came as a shock to the zyder. It was as
fine as any
inn in Kings Overlook. The floor was
covered in a
thick red carpet and the walls were
adorned with
beautiful paintings. It was not the
hovel the outside
promised. His fellow travelers had the
same reaction
to their new surroundings.
“Wow!” Tomment exclaimed. “Didn’t
expect
this.”
Sylvia made her way to the front desk
without a
word. The man at the desk worked
diligently, scribing
in a large book. He didn’t lift his
head to acknowledge
Sylvia.
“All rooms are filled,” he snapped.
“Every room in this whole inn?” she
questioned.
“The whole inn,” the man confirmed. “It
has
been booked by the merchant Tradine.
Only mages
under his invite are welcome.”
“Oh, Tradine, why didn’t you just say
so?”
Tomment said. “You should have me on
the list.”
The man looked up from his book for the
first
time since they entered the inn. He
gave Tomment a
half-hearted look. “You’re just a boy,”
he sneered.
The sigils on the boy’s body began to
flare. A fireball
formed and floated above his palm.
“Stop wasting my time with mere parlor
tricks,”
the man instructed. “Tradine needs real
mages capable
of enchanting weapons.”
“Like this one?” Bigsby asked as he
pulled the
Red Tide. The blade glowed softly in
the dim hallway.
The zyder concentrated on the blade,
making it
grow twice its size. Then he willed it
back to normal
length. “The boy made this.”
“Don’t let his age fool you,” Sylvia
added. “It’s a
youth enchantment he has not quite
perfected.”
The possibility of a youth enchantment
sparked
an interest in the man. His mood
changed immediately.
The book he was writing in was all but
forgotten.
“A youth enchantment,” he said. “That
is interesting.
How old are you really?”
“Much older than you, my friend,”
Tomment
said, taking Sylvia’s lead.
“I would be very interested in such an
enchantment
when you perfect it.” The man stuck out
his
hand at Tomment. “I am Vallen.”
“I am Tonoth,” Tomment lied. “And this
is my
daughter, Siam and my bodyguard,
Perra.”
“I must say, I’m glad to see you,”
Vallen told
them. “You are the first to show. I was
beginning to
think not one mage would answer
Tradine’s call.”
“How many were invited?” inquired
Sylvia.
“Everyone who shows a satisfactory
sample of
work, and that sword will do fine,”
Vallen announced.
“There are so few mages outside of the
free cities who still work with weapon
enchantments.
Not much of a market for them, you
know.”
“When will we be meeting Tradine?”
Tomment
asked. Bigsby was wondering the same
thing. This
merchant could be their best link to
the owner of the
dagger.
“Oh, you won’t.” Vallen dug below the
counter
and pulled out a box with a sealed
note. “These are
your instructions. Make the item
described and
bring it to me. The first mage to bring
me a successful
enchantment gets five hundred gold
pieces.”
“Five hundred gold pieces,” Bigsby
repeated,
trying not to let his astonishment
show.
“Here are your room keys,” Vallen said,
handing
three keys to Bigsby. “It’s a suite
with three bedrooms.
I hope it will do.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Tomment
told him.
The room was more than fine. It was the
best
room Bigsby ever stayed in. All three
beds were
made with fine silk sheets, and a table
of mixed
meats and fruits greeted them in the
sitting room.
Bigsby and Tomment forgot all about the
box. They
ate their fill of the fresh food before
they remembered
the assigned task.
“Do you know anything about enchanting
weapons?” Sylvia asked Tomment.
“No. It’s not even a subject taught in
the Great
Hall anymore,” he stated. “I just
thought we might
get some information on Hemlock’s
dagger from
Vallen. I didn’t think I would actually
get the job.”
Sylvia opened the sealed note and read
the instructions
silently. Then she lifted the lid to
the box.
She studied the contents with an
anxious expression.
“What is it?” Bigsby asked.
“I think you two better see this.”
Bigsby examined the dagger in the box.
It was
made of the finest steel. Etched along
the steel were
small flowers that ran the length of
the blade. The
knife looked to be an exact replica of
the one in Sylvia’s
sheath. He grabbed the note and read
the
words, already knowing what they said.
“Produce one hemlock-enchanted dagger,”
Bigsby read out loud.
“I think we found our assassin,”
Tomment said.
“Or at least a link to him,” Bigsby
agreed.
“So what now?” Tomment asked.
“We give him the dagger, take the
money, and
follow this Tradine to Hemlock,” Sylvia
said.
“How are we going to find Tradine?”
Bigsby
questioned. “Vallen said we aren’t
going to meet
him.”
“He has to pick the dagger up
sometime.” Sylvia
pulled the dagger from her belt and
placed in the
box. “And when he does, I will be
waiting.”
“You mean, we will be waiting,” Tomment
corrected.
Bigsby noticed Sylvia didn’t agree to
the mage’s
statement. She seemed to be lost in her
reflection on
the steel blade. He could see the girl
wanted vengeance.
The zyder also knew, vengeance could
destroy
a person. When Hemlock was dead, Ser
Larkel
would still be lying in his grave and
Sylvia would
still be alone.
I only hope you can fill that
hole in your soul when
the assassin’s death fails to
heal you, Bigsby thought.
“We better get some rest,” Tomment
announced.
“Because tomorrow, we kill a legend.”
Or die at the hands of one,
Bigsby thought.
Continued...
