Chapter Six

“Blessings on him who invented sleep, the mantle that covers all human thoughts.” " Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

 

A small bell tinkled as Seth opened the door. He smiled. It was small things like that that he always seemed to latch on to.

He immediately wandered over to the leg armor section. There were quite a few sets of platelegs to be found, but the selection of greaves was far sparser. Kneeling down, he started pushing through the greaves that were on display.

“Is there something you’re looking for in particular?” A masculine voice sounded behind him, and he looked around from his position on the floor. While he’d been preoccupied with the pieces of leg armor, a brunette man with a bandage over his left eye had walked up behind him.

“Sure! I was wondering if you had anything like these,” he tapped to the greaves he currently wore, “but ones that cover the entire leg. Made from steel preferably.”

“Afraid we don’t have anything like that,” the man answered apologetically, rubbing his clean-shaven chin. “Most of our customers who buy greaves want to travel light, and they like the extra freedom the half ones give.” He snapped his fingers, his blue eyes crinkling as he grinned. “Tell you what, leave the ones you’ve got with me, and I could probably tweak ‘em some. It won’t be quite the same as full greaves made from scratch, but it’ll be far cheaper.”

“Heh, yeah, I know how they feel. I like my maneuverability, but I’ve been getting injured far too often for my tastes as of late.” He started unstrapping his greaves. “And on a similar note, I was wondering what you had in the way of chest armor. I’m looking for something made of leather if you’ve got it. Platemail, and even chain mail, is a bit on the heavy side for me,” he added, removing both greaves and handing both of them to the man.

“That we can do.” He smiled, hefting the greaves as he moved past a shelf of arm bracers.

Following him, Seth was soon met with the sight of a wide array of upper body armor, and his gaze was immediately grabbed by a chest piece made of cured leather which was hanging off a featureless mannequin.

“Well, seems like you’ve already found what you’re looking for,” the brunette laughed, setting down the greaves and plucking the leather body off the mannequin. “I don’t think it’ll be a perfect fit, but it should be close enough for you. Not much to say about this guy, he’s fairly standard as far as leather armor goes. Only real thing to know is that it’s got a piece of steel sewn into the leather over the left breast which should provide a nasty surprise for anyone trying to slide a knife there when you aren’t paying attention.”

“It’s perfect,” Seth breathed, taking the piece of armor from the clerk. Grinning, he hefted it, testing it’s weight to find that it was more than light enough for his needs. “Oh, and before I forget, there’s something I’d like to ask you.” He looked over at the man, who was picking up the greaves again.

“Shoot.”

“Well, I was wondering if there’s a little something you could do with these…?” He pulled out his armored gloves from his pack, tracing the back of the glove as he outlined his request.

“Bit unusual, but I think I can pull it off. Give ‘em here and I’ll see what I can do.” He held out the greaves, and Seth placed the gloves on top of the leg armor.

“So, about payment…?” He left the rest of the question hanging mid-air.

“As services are rendered.” The man answered easily, turning around. “You can pay for these,” he hefted the greaves and gloves in his hands, “when you pick them up, but you’ll have to pay for the leather body now.”

“All right, give me just a sec,” he nodded to the armorer. “I think I’ve found just about everything,” he said, finding Kyari.

She chuckled. "It appears you know how to find good armor." She handed him a small purse. "That should cover it. If not, let me know."

“Thanks.” He held the drawstring bag on his palm for a moment before smiling.

Picking up the piece of chest armor, he strode over to the front counter. It took a few minutes for the man to return from the back, and he distracted himself by looking at the various tiny odds and ends that were on display.

“It’ll probably take me three days to get the greaves sorted out,” the man said as he emerged from the small forge room behind the counter. “The gloves, on the other hand, depend entirely on how long it takes me to find the mechanism. They should only take a day to finish once I find it, though.” He rummaged under the counter and pulled out a list of inventory, placing a checkmark by the leather body in question, and indicating the price to Seth. “Do you want me to make one of ‘em a priority, or does it matter to you?”

“Not really.” Seth withdrew a few gold coins from the purse; there was more than enough money to cover the piece of armor. “Though I guess it’d be nice to have the greaves back first,” he admitted, handing over the coins.

“Greaves it is,” the man grinned, taking the gold and returning a piece of silver and three bronze disks in change.

He thanked the man and turned to Kyari, summarily returning the change to the purse and holding the small bag out to his friend. “So that’s me taken care of. Anything catch your eye while I was wandering through this place?”

"No, not particularly. I'm not one for wearing armor." As they exited, the quaint bell rung a goodbye behind them. "Would you mind if we went and looked at books?" she said suddenly. "It's a bit random..."

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “And it would be rather ungrateful of me to refuse after what you just did for me.”

The bookshop was an outdoor stall, curiously enough, but well protected from the elements. Her eyes lit up as she scanned the new arrivals, looking for favorites to add to her collection.

He looked over the stall with no little awe. What the kiosk lacked in stock, it certainly made up for in sheer variety. There were books on every subject imaginable, from treatises on the treatments of bodily ills to fables from far off lands. “This is amazing.” He murmured, more to himself than anyone else. “’The Seven Lives of Timothy Korscht’, ‘Lineages of the Gyrne’an’, ‘Magic: A Study of the Ethereal Power’,” He chuckled as he read the next. “’Miss Merrypetal and her Bumbling Teapots’. There’s a little of everything here…”

“How often do they get new volumes in?” he asked, turning to Kyari.

"About once a fortnight," she said, not lifting her eyes from the selection.

He let out a low whistle. The time interval might seem large at first, but give it a year or two and that was a lot of books. Especially amazing seeing as he couldn’t for the life of him find two copies of the same book. “They must do good business here to stay afloat, what with a schedule like that,” he muttered. “Anything you’re looking for in particular?”

She shook her head. "Nope. This is normal. I'm usually one of the first ones to browse the new shipment." She tilted her head to one of the people in the back. "I'm friends with the owners: they lent me books when I was orphaned so I could keep reading."

“That was very kind of them.” he raised an eyebrow. “Very trusting too,” leaving the unasked question to hang in the air between them. “How long have they been running this little business?” he question, offering another topic of discussion, just in case.

She looked up at him, "It was either lend them to me or I'd steal them...and bring them back. They've been running it at least 5 years now...Probably more."

“Smart of them,” he laughed, peering closely at a copy of ‘Myths of the Half-World.’ Leaning forward to look at one of the smaller illustrations on the cover, he lost his grip on his metallic diabolo. Fumbling with the weapon, he cut his finger on the edge of the deadly toy and dropped it to the ground. “I should pay more attention to the things I’m carrying,” he chuckled, sucking his bleeding finger as he kneeled down to pick up the bizarre weapon. “Or maybe I should just stop carrying sharp pointy objects in my hands.”

She carried a stack of books back to the owners. "How much for these?" Hearing the price, she grimaced. "Fine." She took the top ten books off of the stack, put there in case of that eventuality. "I'll just take these ones then." It was a much more manageable bunch of books, and she could pay without completely emptying her purse.

She turned to Seth. "Anything you want? Keep in mind; if you just want to read it, I might have it at home.”

“Not particularly,” he handled the diabolo gingerly, still sucking on his finger. “I don’t read quite as much as I used to. What I would like is to know if there’s any drum stores anywhere near here. Ones selling small handheld drums. Maybe I can find a small case for this little bugger.” He brandished the sharp toy. “Hmmm, actually, make that a music store in general,” The boy mused. “Drum sticks wouldn’t be a bad idea if I can find them, and I suppose guitar strings might do…” He shook his head. “That is, if there’s nothing else you’d like to do.”

She handed her books to the shopkeeper, asking them to hold them for her until she came back for them later. "I know where we can find stuff like that. Most of the marketplace is well divided, but there are a few occasional random stalls."

 It wasn't even a few steps beyond the shop that she stopped suddenly. "Seth, I've got to go. The music stand is three stalls down and four stalls over.”

Following her gaze, he saw the source of her discomfort. “I’ll find you later.”

She smiled tightly, nodded, and left, disappearing into the crowd.

Not long after she did so, the man approached Seth. “May I talk to you for a moment?”

“I don’t know why you’d need to, but sure.”

“Who is the black-haired girl that was with you at the bookshop?” The man looked thoughtful. “She looks familiar, quite like someone I’m looking for.”

“And who would that be?”

“I’m looking for a Lady Adelaide. And that girl looks just like her.” He held out his hand. “My name is Marcin Lightely.”

“Felas Minae,” Seth replied, shaking Marcin’s hand.

“I’m willing to pay if you can tell me more about the girl. Perhaps they’re related.”

“I’ll see what I can do. How can I get a hold of you?”

“Leave a message at The Sword and Spear for me.”

As Marcin walked away, Seth began thinking. “I’m not going to turn her in,” he mumbled. “But perhaps it would do well if I found out more about her than she’s going to tell me. First stop, arena library.”

"May I see the fight records, please?" he asked, approaching the main desk of the lobby.

The attendant, dressed in the black and blue uniform of the arena officers nodded. "Right this way, sir," he said, leading Seth down a hallway.

Books lined the shelves of the room, surprising full for an arena only 25 years old. Each volume held a profile of a fighter in the arena: their weapons, their fights, their techniques. One large book on the central table held the complete list of wins, losses, and records achieved in each of the four sub-arenas. It was to this that he turned first.

He flipped the pages tenderly, not really looking for anything in particular.
Undefeated Fighters read the first page that caught his eye. The list was surprisingly scarce, with a very elite few holding the honor. Most names had been crossed out completely, hiding their shame behind black scratches. Another name, Kaden, had a single black strike through his name, a note to the side explaining that it appeared that Kaden had thrown the match on purpose, but was still allowed to claim the title of undefeated. Kyari's name was there as well.

He stood up quickly, his mind spinning. “...K...Kaden...” he muttered, searching the shelves.

He grabbed the unsurprisingly thick volume, bringing it with him to a comfy looking chair. He stayed through the afternoon, pouring over the book, occasionally making notes in a journal at his side. “This seems so familiar...” He flipped to the front, running through Kaden's basic profile again. "Married: Adelaide; died in childbirth. Children: One stillborn child. No other heirs.”

He looked back at his notes. “I can’t believe I missed it before,” he grumbled. “There’s more to Kyari than she thought.”

Flipping his journal closed, he carefully placed the small book securely into his pant pocket. Wearily, he rubbed his eyes, and then leaned his arms heavily against his knees. Now how was he going to spin this? Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shook his head. He needed time to think.

Picking his diabolo up off the table, he quietly exited the archive, politely thanking the lobby attendant on his way out. Aimlessly, he wandered the streets, deep in thought.

D****t, how do I throw him off her trail? He browsed through a couple of the food stalls listlessly, not really seeing the wares displayed in front of him. I doubt that man’s stupid, whoever he is. He’d be able to put two and two together if he ever looks at the archives… his brow furrowed. If he hasn’t already. And if he has; what then? Why’d he bother with me if he already knew?

Fuming silently to himself, he looked up to find himself near the music stall. There’s far too many unknowns here… he frowned as he entered the store. Geez, this is a trap and no mistake. If I’m not careful, I’ll lose sight of the reason I came here in the first place.

Banishing the subject from his mind for the moment, he willfully immersed himself in the selection of musical instruments and their corresponding parts on display. He’d tackle his dilemma later; for now he’d simply rest. Fifteen minutes later, he left the music store with nothing to show for it but the continued aggravation of his unsolved problem. He had forgotten that he currently depended entirely on Kyari for funds.

Ok, let’s start with what I know. He brooded as he wandered toward the one building he’d grown familiar with; the arena. He knows I know Kyari, even if only as an acquaintance at best. Considering her reputation for being undefeated, it’s not a stretch to assume that he already knows her name and, quite possibly, her family background. Doubly probable since he already accosted her.

He ground his teeth. Hypothetically, the shady man knew too much and was acting too little. This whole affair was starting to smell fishier than a week old cod left on the docks. Lineage hunters make their fortunes by recovering nobility… So that means they’re entirely dependant on the gratitude of the noble they’ve ‘raised’ for any sort of reward… He frowned. So logically, he’s already fairly certain Kyari’s Adelaide’s daughter, and now he’s simply trying to get into her good graces while finding confirmation on the side… He bit back a curse when it hit him. Good graces… good graces… he’s using me! He screwed up royally with Kyari, so now he’s going after anyone who seems related to her!

Wearily slipping into the arena lobby, he made a beeline for the nearest chair and collapsed in it. So this whole song and dance about information… is he testing me? He rubbed his face. D****t, if I tell him nothing, then he’ll either think I’ve caught on, or that I’m too loyal to Kyari, and who knows what he’ll do if that happens. If I tell him anything, I’ve basically made myself his Cat’s Paw. He can hold that knowledge over my head; threaten to tell Kyari that I betrayed her.

He let his head loll against the wall, sighing forlornly. He didn’t want any part in this, this court shadow play. He laughed hollowly. Stupid courtly intrigues seemed determined to hound him, no matter where he went.

I’m caught, the boy admitted to himself. There’s no way out of this. At least, not alone. He sat up. I need to talk to Kyari.

The only problem was, he still had no idea where the girl lived.

 

*           *           *

 

Kyari left the bookshop cautiously, trying not to alert the man to where she was going. With the ease of being a practiced thief, she snuck around back to Seth, listening in the conversation. “So he has a name,” she pondered, walking in a different direction from either Seth or Marcin. “Marcin Lightely. At least Seth was smart enough not to tell him who he really was.” She snorted. “Felas Nimae? I’m surprised Marcin didn’t catch that.”

She continued to talk to herself, “Then there’s also the bribe. I don’t think Seth would turn me in, but he’s low on coins. He barely had enough to pay for a meal. Then again,” she smiled, “that was because he bought that strange weapon.” She shook her head. “I suppose there was a reason Father told me not to trust anyone…now I fear I might’ve told Seth too much.”

The building in front of which she now stood had an impressive stone façade, but as soon as she walked in side, she was reminded that that was all it was: a mask. The inside, while tidy, was rough wood and dirt. It was all she could afford at this point. The better apartments available were for fighters who had been fighting for years. Didn’t matter that she was undefeated: she hadn’t earned enough money in the last year to pay the rent in the higher quality buildings.

Her residence sat on the second floor, along with three others. She frowned at the lock, remembering she had left the books at the shop for later. “Oh dear,” she sighed. She turned around, heading back to the bookshop. Graciously thanking the owners, she again returned home.

The books neatly stacked on the many shelves lining the room, she began to remember Marcin’s determination to find out who she was.

I should stop by the arena. I need to see if they can make my schedule private. I don’t Marcin to find me. Besides, she rationalized, it’s nearly dinner. I have to go out anyway.

Her movements were cautious, always aware of who was near her.

She entered the arena lobby and caught sight of Seth. His untidy hair was more so than usual and his face looked worn. “Are you okay?” she asked in concern.

He smiled when he heard her voice floating over the hubbub of the lobby. Speak of the devil. Or was it think of the devil in this case…? He shook his head ruefully. There were serious problems to face and here he was debating the correctness of an idiom.

“You could say that,” he replied, shooting the girl a wan smile. “It’s just this whole business with that guy, Marcelle, or Martin, or whatever his name was. It’s making me paranoid.” He stretched his arms and then slouched back down. "This whole thing feels like a giant trap."

She frowned. “Give me a minute: I’ll be right over.” She quickly took care of the necessary arrangements, and then went over to Seth, sitting on the armrest of a chair near him. “So you knew I was listening?” she teased, before composing herself again. “I don’t know what you can do. It’s too late now to tell him you don’t know who I am, and besides, if he’s trying to figure it out, he would’ve caught on by now that we see each other often.” She kept her voice down as she continued. “He’s already tried to talk to me directly, and that didn’t work. Now he’s trying to get to me through someone.

“Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on your perspective, you’re the only one that he could talk to that could give him any hints at all.

“As to what we can do about it…” she shrugged. “I suppose we can try to feed him false information. It’d be easy enough to find someone who, if we paid them enough, could say they knew my mother and that she most definitely was not a noble since she grew up in this city…or something like that.”

“Money talks, huh?” he laughed softly. “Only problem is, the more money, the stronger the argument; and that works in his favor too. That’s a lot of faith you’d be putting into someone you’re, in effect, buying.”  He looked around warily before lowering his voice. “And that’s also assuming he doesn’t have the brains to put two and two together if he ever visits the archives here.” He looked at her meaningfully. “Like I said, I can’t shake the feeling that this is all one big game of ‘cat and mouse’, and we’ll end up a tasty meal for this slimy berk if we make a wrong move…”

"...you mean he might be right?" She froze. "No, he's not. And he'll never be able to put two and two together. My mother wasn't a fighter, so they won't find any books on her in here. Plus, he doesn't know who my father is, so he won't be able to find him either."

“Whether he’s right or not… might not matter at all.” He shifted guiltily and clasped his hands together. “I was curious. I did some research.” He admitted. “I had a peek through the archives. Originally I was looking for your profile, but then another fighter caught my eye. A man by the name of Kaden.” He kept an eye on her reaction. “He had a wife who was known as Adelaide, and a child, just one, that was pronounced dead upon birth. Since you were listening in on my conversation with Marcin, then you know that Adelaide’s the name of the noble he’s searching for.” He sighed and shook his head. “The long and short of it is that if he finds, or has already found that entry, then that’s probably enough circumstantial evidence for him to pursue you, regardless of whether you’re actually of noble lineage.”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “And this lands us back in square one. What are we going to do about this guy? Do we try and cut all contact with him and hope that whatever he comes up with next doesn’t catch us by surprise, or do we play this little game of subterfuge and hope we don’t play even further into his hands?”

It's just a coincidence. Just a coincidence, she tried to remind herself, but her heart pounded an unusual rhythm regardless. Does he know that I'm Kaden's daughter, that the entry was all just a ploy to keep me safe?

"This is too small of a city to avoid him completely," she said finally. "Our only option is to find some way around him." She fell silent again, continuing to think of possible options. "We could try to lure him away from here, thinking I went elsewhere to 'escape' him. We can feed him information that proves I'm not a noble," which I'm not, she thought silently. "Or, I suppose, we can always get rid of him. People asking too many questions seem to just disappear sometimes..." she trailed off, unsure of her own words.

“I don’t think making him… disappear would be the wisest of choices,” he replied instantly. “I won’t pretend to know the habits of Lineage Hunters, but there’s no guarantee that this Lightely fellow doesn’t have some associates secreted around the city. Off him and we might as well tell them that he found something worth killing for.” He frowned thoughtfully. “As for luring him out of town… that carries the same risk as taking him out. On top of that, I doubt I’m his only source of information, so we’d basically have to fool the entire city; not a particularly easy feat.”

He shuffled around nervously, checking again to ensure that they weren’t being eavesdropped upon. “Truth tell, there’s only one real option I can think of. At least one that works well.” he looked her in the eyes. “But it’s not the most savory of actions.”

She looked at him expectantly, her eyes nervous.

“Simple,” he sighed, looking around once again to make absolutely sure no one else was within earshot. “Kidnap him and force him to spill whatever info he might know. If he doesn’t have any associates hereabouts, then there isn’t a problem with him taking a permanent vacation. If he does, then we can get what information we can and then go from there. He might even be a valuable hostage, though I doubt we’d be that lucky. Lineage Hunters are rarely important people. Like I said, it’s a despicable plan, but it’s probably the safest one we have.”

She nodded. "Where would we keep him, though?"

“That’s one problem,” he admitted. “Another one’s the time limit we might be on. If he’s got people working with him, they’ll undoubtedly notice he’s gone, so we’ll have to get what we need from him before they catch on to us.” He chuckled. “And of course, there’s actually catching him unawares in the first place.

“This is just theoretical logic speaking.” He shook his head. “I’m not even sure if it’s possible; I don’t know this city all that well. So, do you think we can pull this off?”

She looked away, eyes darting around the lobby, finally resting them on her hands in her lap. "No. I don't think we'll be able to. Truth is, he's either right, or he's wrong. There's too much evidence that says he's right," she finally conceded, "but I don't want to know what he'd do with me. I want to stay here, and if I leave, I want it to be of my own accord. I'll just avoid him." She looked up at him, "And I'd suggest that you do the same."

She walked out of the arena without another word.

He moved to stop her, but held himself back. It was her choice; some things needed to be respected. This left him in an uncomfortable position. Avoiding Marcin seemed like something that would come back to bite him in the rear. He didn’t want that snake wandering around the city, free to do what he wished.

Sighing, the young man got up from his seat and cracked his back. Well, in that case he knew what he had to do. She had made her decision, but ultimately what he did remained his own choice.

Still, even as he made his way to the rendezvous, he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d regret this choice.

 

*           *           *

 

Marcin Lightely was a peculiar man. A bushy mustache rubbed against his upper lip, while his chin-length hair was styled in careful waves. He had the air of one who spent hours every morning on his appearance, but his general outlook proved otherwise.

Confronting Felas earlier was a minor achievement. No one else had been particularly willing to offer any information. Perhaps they were afraid what would happen if they told, regardless of the pay. He sat in the inn where he had told Felas to drop off information, eating dinner.

Seth stood for a long moment, looking at the Sword and the Spear. Second thoughts swirled around his head as he contemplated his last chance to turn back.

Shaking his head, he pushed through the front door.

Do or do not, there is no try.

“Shut up old man,” he mumbled to himself under his breathe. “Fat lot of good you did me then, fat lot of good you’ll do me now.”

Quickly locating Marcin, who was eating what looked like his evening meal, he promptly strode over. Without waiting for an invitation, he dropped down heavily into a seat opposite the blonde man.

“Ok,” he started, “I’m not one to beat around the bush, but before we get down to brass tacks I want to know one thing. Why are you so interested in that girl?”

Marcin wiped his mouth, chewing and swallowing carefully before replying. "Does it really matter what my purpose is? Anyone can obtain information for any purpose, and can even change their purpose after obtaining that information."

He raised an eyebrow. “If you can get information from anyone else, then why are you bothering with me? In fact, if your purpose can… change, as you put it, then what’s the problem?” The boy shot Marcin a disarming grin that was meant to be anything but. “Humor me.”

"Someone else is looking for the girl. I'm merely helping in the process."

“Just another grape in the vine, huh?” he asked. “That’s not particularly encouraging you know. Your employer must be quite desperate to find her if they’re willing to use so many people to find her.” The boy leaned forward. “So tell me, why should I help you? Besides the obvious monetary compensation of course.”

"So many people? On the contrary. There is merely my 'employer' and me. As to why you should help me, there is no reason for you not to."

“Only the two of you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, that makes far more sense I suppose.” He chuckled. “Easy there, easy there, I was just seeing how desperate you were; you know how it is. All right, I’ll tell you a bit of what I’ve found, but little more until I see something worth my while.” He took a breath. “Girl’s named Kyari. Nobody knows where she’s from, but people’ve got their suspicions. Wasn’t seen around until she was 12 or so.”

"Their suspicions? What sort of suspicions?"

“That she’s some kind of royalty, that she’s a mass murderer laying low where her violent tendencies won’t show up as much, that she’s the spirits of wind and water given flesh.” He snorted. “You know, all the harebrained theories that follow everyone with a mysterious background like the plague.” He leaned back. “And I’m afraid you won’t get another peep out of me until I see some cash. Knowledge is power after all, and power’s valuable stuff.”

Marcin pulled out a gold coin. "Is this enough?" he asked, holding a large pouch of it under the table.

He quickly snapped the coin from the man’s hand and gave it a quick bite. “No offense meant,” he said, eying the small indentations in the coin. “That’s just the world we live in, right?” Evidently the golden disk met his approval, for he quickly slipped it into his pocket.

“There’s not really much fact about her floating around,” he admitted. “So far she’s completely undefeated as far as the arena goes, and a couple of the vendors around here think she might be a bit of a thief.” He sighed. “It’s not much to go on, I know, but limiting ourselves to the more logical rumors making their rounds most people think she’s from out of town. People with her magical abilities aren’t exactly common around here. In fact, people with her magical abilities aren’t common, period.

“There’s actually a few betting pools going around based on who she is and where she’s from. Strong people always do attract attention.” He stretched his arms. “From what I gather, the smart money says she’s an orphan from Aestrieum. A runaway apprentice that stole a magic artifact from her master.

“Hate to say it, friend, but I think you’re chasing after a street urchin. Powerful one, but a street urchin all the same.” He let a sly smile spread across his face. “Though, come to think of it, I did pick up a few tidbits about one ‘Adelaide’ when I was nosing around, but that’ll cost you extra.”

Marcin mulled this over as he sipped his wine. "The price might get a bit high if all you can give is little bits of information at a time. I know who you are, Felas," he sneered, pulling out a silver coin this time. "And this is all you'll get for your information. You shouldn't need the coin anyways."

Seth felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, but attempted to keep a carefully straight face. “Really now?” he asked as he picked up the piece of silver, eying it before pocketing it without even verifying its authenticity. “And how does that have any standing in our conversation?” He shrugged. “Well, I suppose silver still merits some speech. Adelaide, woman by that name came to this city a while back, married a fighter and died a few years later. Might’ve been in childbirth, I can’t remember. Kid was born dead so I guess it doesn’t matter.” He pushed back his chair and got up. “If that’s all you need me for, then I’ll bid you a good day.”

"If you have more information, I'd like to have it. No matter who you are."

“If I have more information, I’ll be sure to sell it to the highest bidder,” he chuckled, turning to leave. “I’m sure other patrons don’t thank their little ravens by way of thinly veiled threats.” So saying, he made his way for the door, a little more hurriedly than he might have liked.

"Thinly veiled threats, eh? He should be glad it's not public knowledge," Marcin snapped.

*           *           *

The moment he was out of the inn, Seth strode briskly down the road, turning a corner before breaking into a flat out run.

Things had just gone from worse to absolutely horrible, plan and simple. That man knew, he knew. A couple of words, that’s all he needed and the whole gig was up. So much for being a savior: he was the one who was going to need saving if that slimy worm decided to put pleasure in front of profit.

He needed an edge, any edge on that shady hunter. And then there was that man’s mysterious employer, if such a person even existed. Best not take chances and assume he did.

When he was quite sure he was an acceptable distance from the tavern, heet himself slow down into a gentle lope. Turning another corner he found himself in the heart of the shopping district once more; right in front of that presumptuous apothecary as it happens.

An edge, huh? he thought. It was a long shot, and he doubted it would really aid him if Marcin decided to spill the beans, but it was worth a shot. Squashing his reservations about the unsavory place, Seth slipped into the grand drug shop.

*           *           *

Kyari couldn't sleep. The window let in a cool breeze of air, but as nice as it felt, it didn't help. All she could think of was what Seth had said.

She finally got out of bed, finding it pointless to stay wrapped in her blankets. Slipping on her daggers, she walked out into the night, heading towards the river.

Listening to the quiet rush of the river, she sat on the banks. Unfortunately, it wasn't helping. After nearly a quarter of an hour, she still wasn't tired, more from the fact that she couldn't stop thinking.

I wonder if there's something at the apothecary for this. I need to sleep, and I have the feeling the next couple of weeks are going to be like this.

*           *           *

Moments after he entered the apothecary, Seth came storming back out.

“Eleven gold pieces? What are they, mad? What kind of herb is worth eleven gold pieces?!” he huffed as he quickly strode from what was fast becoming his most hated shop on the face of the planet. Evidently putting his reservations aside had been the wrong course of action in this case.

He was so consumed by his ire that he didn’t even notice when he stormed right past Kyari, who was going in the other direction. “Geez, who do these people think they are, making people pay through the nose just because they’re almost the only show in town…”

He wandered through the streets of the city in high bad humor, completely without destination. After a good half hour of aimless walking, he pulled up. “Well, what do you know; I seem to be running into all sorts of familiar places today,” he as he stared at the music store he’d visited a couple of hours ago. “They’re probably closed at this time of night though…” He strolled up to the front door. Sure enough a “Closed” sign was hanging just on the inside of the glass door.

“Ah well, suppose I should have expected that.” He stretched his arms and yawned. Taking a far more sedate pace than he had earlier, he trudged his way back to the arena, and located the small wing reserved for passing fighters.

“You sure you don’t just want to buy that room, kiddo?” the receptionist and proprietor, a balding, grey haired man grinned, as he handed Seth his keys before he even asked for them.

“Nah,” Seth shook his head, taking the keys. “I told you it’s temporary, and I still mean it.” Rooting around in his pockets, he took the two coins Marcin had paid him and tossed them onto the counter. “That should cover my rent for a bit.” he said airily as he turned and walked down the long corridor.

“Ah well, suit yourself.” The old man picked up the two coins and gave them a quick bite each with one of the few teeth he had left. “More money for me.”

Chuckling, Seth quickly made it to his room, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. Securing the latch when he slid the large slab of oak shut, he promptly marched over to his bed, fell on it and went to sleep, still fully dressed.

Ok, so maybe he’d been a bit more tired than he’d thought.

*           *           *

Seth stormed past her, apparently irritated. Kyari continued to the front desk, wary of the situation. "Passion flower, please," she insisted.

"I'm afraid we don't have much in stock," the shopkeeper replied, a smug smile on his face. "What's your intended use?"

"Passion flower has one side effect: sleepiness. I intend to use it for that."

"May I suggest something else that we have more of? It will be a reduced price. Valerian is quite effective."

She narrowed her eyes. "No, I'll take the passion flower."

He smirked, naming the price.

"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath as she withdrew the desired amount. The dose he handed her was small compared to what she deserved for that price.

"See if I ever come to you again," she complained under her breath as she left. No wonder Seth was upset.

She took the smallest dose she could take while still having it affect her, falling asleep quicker than expected.

*           *           *

Light? Was it light out? He had absolutely no clue.

“W’st’me?”

The completely unintelligible query received no answer, as might be expected.

It took about ten minutes, and a supreme amount of concentration, but Seth eventually found out what his problem was.

He was lying face down.

Still grumbling tiredly, he tried valiantly to roll over. He moved maybe a quarter of an inch. So he tried again. Two quarters of an inch. So he gathered all the strength that was available to him in his severely handicapped state and tried to heave himself over and…

With a whump, he rolled right off his bed, tumbling ungracefully to the floor. To add insult to injury, he landed on his face. Then his staff whacked him upside the head.

And he still didn’t know what time of day it was.

Groaning, now more due to aching pain than fatigue, he finally rolled himself over on a uniform surface and cracked his eyes open.

Well, it was definitely light out.

Cursing, he shut his eyes tightly, waiting another ten minutes before opening them again, decidedly slower this time.

Ok, so it was light out. Fat lot of good that did him. It could be anytime from mid-morning to late afternoon. Probably not evening; the light wasn’t a deep enough shade of gold, and he was quite sure he hadn’t been that tired. Now where had he heard that before…?

Giving up his epic quest for the time of day as a lost cause, the brown eyed boy closed his eyes again and relaxed.

He didn’t want to get up.

It was an odd realization. Usually he was up and rearing to go at the crack of dawn. Responsibility could do that to a person.

But now… now all he wanted to do was close his eyes and fall back asleep. That is, if only that infernal staff would stop digging into his back.

Turning onto his stomach again, he let out a sigh of relief. He’d been pushing himself really hard these last few months. Sure, he’d had a few excursions into town with Kyari, but those almost invariably ended up taking as much, if not more energy than his training did.

He deserved a break.

If anyone needed him, well, he wasn’t going anywhere. If they weren’t about to take the time to track him down, then obviously they didn’t need him that much.

*           *           *

It wasn’t a dream. She had been awake for a few hours, so it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a waking nightmare: it was too real for that. Someone tailing her was not unusual, and was almost expected. This was a more sinister feeling, one that awakened hairs on her neck.

With a flicker of shadows, her caution moved closer to paranoia.

With a shadow’s dash from an alley, it snapped.

She flicked her daggers out from their respective arm sheaths, circling around as she backed up against the wall.

They approached her confidently; unaware of what she could have hidden up her sleeve. It was only two of them, but that was enough to keep her busy. The first dagger she threw hit one man before either had time to react. There was no time to throw the second dagger.

He came at her swiftly, throwing punches that she dodged with ease.

In an unexpected move, he had evaded the second dagger, and now held her pinned against his chest. Well isn’t this lovely. Thought I could defeat anyone…she smirked silently. I bet I can.

Kyari whipped out the dagger from its sheath, stabbing it up and into his chest.

He fell backwards, joining his accomplice on the cobblestones.

“You don’t mess with me. And if you do, you come prepared.”