Of Truth and Beasts

An old woman stood in an archway to a back room filled with small tables and strange apparatus. Wild, steel gray hair hung in straggles over her face, which had one missing eye. She didn’t wear a patch, but had inserted a polished orb of jet or obsidian with a red dot in place of an iris. Two large moles decorated the left side of her nose, and her hooded robe might have once been red. She leaned on a gnarled cane.

“I need several components,” he said. “One in particular.”

She looked him up and down. “Why would the likes of you come here for such a ... component, as you call it?”

Her mockery of the term suggested she knew he was after something more important—more expensive and perhaps questionable—than was on display in the shop. It was also to probe to see if he was willing and able to pay for it.

“Because it is ... very rare,” he answered.

Chapter 7

After Chane left, Wynn took advantage of the privacy and the rare luxury of the inn. She stripped down to her shift, then lifted the pearl-glazed pitcher and basin and fresh towels off the dresser and settled down on the floor. Before she’d even finished pouring water in the basin, Shade stuck her face in the bowl and started lapping. Wynn let her drink, for the water wasn’t soapy yet. The dog was probably hungry, as well.

“We’ll have supper soon,” she said.

She took her time washing. She’d barely finished and pulled on her short robe when a soft, triple knock came. Shade’s nose rose in the air, along with her ears, as she sniffed repeatedly, and Wynn didn’t need to guess as she opened the door.

A slender woman in a lavender gown stood outside, holding a huge tray with three covered plates.

“Your dinner, miss.”

“Thank you ...” Wynn trailed off.

Should she pay the girl now? How much would this cost? The girl was watching her and offered a demure smile.

“Mechaela will settle accounts upon your departure.”

“Thank you,” Wynn said, taking the tray, which was heavier than it looked. After a brief nod, the girl vanished down hall.

Wynn shut the door with her hip and hauled the tray to a small table. When she lifted one plate cover, she found a grilled salmon fillet, steamed green beans, and roasted potatoes—and the same under the other two covers. After so much time on a ship, the food probably smelled more exquisite than it truly was. But where had the staff found fresh green beans at this time of year?

Obviously, Chane had ordered a plate for Shade, who already fidgeted at Wynn’s side. Wynn set one plate down and had barely taken her hand back before Shade was halfway done. She shook her head at the sight and sighed, but the third plate gave her pause. It couldn’t be for Chane.

Reluctantly, she picked up the plate, opened the door, and knocked on the one across the hall. “Ore-Locks, supper.”

He opened the door almost immediately, but he looked past her, into her room.

“Where is Chane?” he asked.

“Out,” she said, offering the plate.

He didn’t take it. “How long?”

“He’s just getting supplies,” she said.

“Again ... at this time of night?”

Why would it matter to Ore-Locks where Chane went or what he did? The dwarf looked at her, the barest crease forming on his brow and between his eyes.

“Is not his purpose to protect you?” he asked. “Leaving you at a guild annex was one thing. Not the same as ... here, and without even telling me.”

Wynn blinked. Ore-Locks was angry that Chane had left her unguarded?

“I will stay with you until he returns,” he said, taking a step.

“No—I’m fine,” she said, shoving the plate out into his chest. “Shade is with me ... and I’m just across the hall.”

Ore-Locks’s jaw muscles bulged. “You will stay inside your room?”

“Yes,” she answered, uncertainly, wondering if he had some genuine concern for her.

“Bäalâle Seatt is our purpose,” he added. “At present, you are the one best suited to find it.”

Uncertainty vanished as Wynn stiffened. This was the Ore-Locks she knew.

He would never let her come to harm as long as his only path was to follow her. Another realization hit her: this was the same reason he hadn’t pressed her regarding Chane’s strange habits. From the first moment Ore-Locks had met Chane in the Chamber of the Fallen in the Stonewalkers’ underworld, Chane had proven himself more than adequate at protecting Wynn. That made him useful, and the dwarf would turn a blind eye as long as Chane remained so.

Ore-Locks didn’t care about anything but his own end goal—whatever that was.

Wynn pushed the plate into his chest again and let go of it. She spun around as he huffed and staggered, likely fumbling to grab the plate.

She walked directly into her own room and closed the door.

Sau’ilahk felt an undead presence suddenly manifest in his awareness.

Chane had paused before an apothecary’s shop, his right hand moving to his left. Then he slipped something into a small pouch.