Clandestine circle

“I’ll see you at the temple,” Linsha said softly. Turning left, she broke into a jog again back to the northern neighborhoods, up the road past the refugee camp and its sad mounds, and along the track to the temple. Panting and drenched with perspiration, she arrived at the temple doors two minutes ahead of Mica.

The porter was explaining to her that Mica had not yet returned when the dwarf stamped up the walkway and brushed past her. His bearded face was red from his brisk walk. He gave her an irritated glance and demanded, “What are you doing here?”

Linsha rolled her eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, breathing hard. “The priestess even sent me to that ghastly camp so I could find you.”

“What for?” he asked in a tone that doubted her intelligence.

“She has a message for you,” the porter put in to he helpful.

Oops. Linsha forgot about that. Thinking fast, she pulled the dwarf into the foyer away from prying ears. “Lord Bight has been trying an experiment that so far has been successful, and he wanted me to inform you for your research.”

“Why you?” He curled his lip in tolerant mockery.

Linsha kept her expression blank, her tone matter-of-fact. “Because I am the experiment.”

The dwarf examined her with keen eyes, then indicated she was to follow him. He led her down a flight of stairs to a lower level and a large room filled with shelves of books. A worktable stood in the middle of the room, half buried under stacks of scrolls, books, and old manuscripts. Linsha recognized the bound records of the priest-scribe stacked at one end.

Mica lit several oil lamps hanging on chains from the ceiling. He crossed his arms.

“Explain,” he demanded.

Linsha walked to the table. She didn’t know if Lord Bight wanted this known or not, but surely he hadn’t meant to keep it from his healer. “The lord governor told me he suspects the plague may have a magical origin. He has given me a talisman to protect me.”

“Huh. So that’s why he sent you with me into the city. I thought maybe he was hoping to be rid of you,” Mica said, his words snide.

Linsha ignored that. Now that she had a strong suspicion of Mica’s identity, she was more willing to overlook his grouchy personality. Any operative who had made it this far in Lord Bight’s court and survived more than two years like Mica had to be good. “No,” she said lightly. “He sent me to help you because I can read and wield a sword. The talisman was an addition.”

Mica cast an eye over her, as if looking hopefully for signs of fever. “Is it working?”

“So far.”

He snorted. “What is it?”

“A bronze dragon scale.”

Mica was startled into saying, “A what?”

In reply, Linsha pulled the gold chain out from under her tunic and showed him the bronze disk. In the light of the oil lamps, it gleamed with a cool fire.

“I’ll be a gully dwarfs squire,” he exclaimed, leaning forward to see it better in the light. “Did he say where he got it?”

“He said he found it. It’s supposed to be ensorcelled with protective spells.” She turned it over in her hands. “It looks so new. I’d like to know where he found it-considering he’s been here for thirty years and has forbidden the Good dragons to enter the city, to appease Sable.”

“I daresay that edict is freely ignored by those metallics who can take the shape of a person.” He waved a hand at her to put the talisman away. “For now, keep that scale safe, Alley Cat, and don’t show it to anyone else.”

Linsha tilted her head and looked sidelong at him. “Anyone in particular?”

He leaned forward, his expression serious. “If you have the favor of Lord Bight, it would be wise not to make it known, or the knowledge could be used against him… or you.”

“The lord governor has been good to me,” she replied, pushing off firmly the idea of any special preference, “but he is using this only as an experiment, not a mark of favor.”

“So you think. Just follow my advice.”

Her eyes lit with a sparkle of fun, and she grinned. “Why, Mica, I didn’t know you cared.”

A frown crossed the dwarfs face. The grump was back to normal, Linsha thought.

And yet somewhere in the conversation a small advance had been made and accepted. Without words or conscious effort, the secret knowledge each had of the other had altered their perceptions and reactions. Their different orders were not allies, but they were not enemies either, and some time or some where in this deadly game of intrigue, they might need one another.

“Can you really read?” Mica asked, pondering the stacks before him.

“Common Tongue, Solamnic, Plains Barbarian, and Abanasinian,” she answered bluntly.

“Impressive.”

She shrugged, bringing a twinge to her healing shoulder. “I get around. I know the thieves’ hand talk, too, but that won’t be found in any books.”

He picked up a large pile of record books and tomes. “Good. You start with these,” and he dumped them in front of her.

Linsha picked up the first one, an old treatise on common herbal remedies. “What are we looking for?”