Landmoor

“Is this about money, Quickfellow?” she asked, her brows wrinkling with the hint of disgust. “War always raises the prices on everything. Not as much silk and satin are sold – soldiers need wool for blankets and capes and liveries.” She regarded him coolly.

Thealos shook his head. He had learned in recent days how easy it was to give away too much. He was more guarded with Ticastasy. More deliberate. “I can see why you would think that, knowing my people as you do. I’m not after gold.” He held up his hand when he saw she was about to interject something. “There are many in Avisahn who would like another war between don Rion and the Bandits. Doesn’t matter who wins or loses, both sides will need supplies. I’ve no doubt that you’ve heard my people are, above all else, money-dealing thieves who can’t be trusted.”

“That is exactly what I was going to say,” she replied. “But you’re saying that’s not why you’re here?”

“No, I’m here for other reasons. That plant that the Bandits are digging up, the one that Allavin mentioned at the table. That’s one of the reasons. There are others as well. But none of those reasons are about wealth. Believe me, my Correl is wealthy enough that I’ll never lack for it. But when Jaerod comes, maybe then I can tell you the rest. Agreed?”

“Do you think he killed those men who were with him?” she asked, nodding her head towards Allavin and Sturnin.

“No,” Thealos answered.

“Are you sure?” she pressed.

“Not unless he can walk faster than the wind,” Thealos countered. “He’s been with me.”

“Oh,” she replied. “I just heard somewhere that the Shae can tell when one of their kind is murdered. I figured that if he had done it, you would be able to tell.”

Thealos chuckled. “Do you believe every rumor about us?”

“Well, I have yet to see you dance with the moon,” she teased. “You’re starting to change my mind about your people as a whole, Quickfellow,” she conceded with a smirk and a nod. “I’d heard the Shae never give anything away.” She smoothed the bodice of her gown. “That’s just an another ugly rumor, isn’t it?”

Thealos felt a cold prickle go up his spine and quiver on the flesh of his neck. A chill rushed through him.

“Are you cold?” she asked, nudging closer.

“No,” Thealos answered, looking out into the darkness once again. “Jaerod is here.”




*



The noise and gaiety of the Catpaw Inn hushed as Thealos gently shut the door behind him. He stood alone on the back porch of the inn, washed in darkness so thick that it took several moments before he believed he hadn’t stepped off the edge of the world. As a Shae, he could see very well in the dark, but he wished he had the night vision of a Drugaen. The blue moonglow accented the rear street before revealing a tack and harness shop reeking of horses and leather. The heat from the day was replaced by a cold wind that knifed at Thealos’ hands and cheeks. He stared down the street both ways, looking for the Sleepwalker.

“I’m over here.” Jaerod’s voice came out of the stillness.

Thealos nearly stumbled and his heart jolted. He calmed himself down. If Jaerod had wanted him dead, he would have let Tannon’s band finish him in the woods. He had to remember that. The porch wrapped around the one side of the inn, and in the darkness Thealos had failed to see a small wooden bench with flat arm rests. Jaerod was a smudge in the shadows.

“You startled me,” Thealos said, walking over to the bench. He folded his arms and hugged himself for warmth.

“It’s always a pleasure doing that to a Shae,” the Sleepwalker replied. “I see that we’ve picked up some stragglers after Sol. The knight followed you?”

“He caught up in the Shadows Wood. He was looking for you.”

“And so is Allavin Devers, I understand.” He paused. “What about the one playing Bones with Flent? Another stray from Avisahn?”

Thealos saw the Sleepwalker’s medallion against the dark fabric of his tunic. “Flent calls him Justin, but he can’t remember his own name. We found him in the Shadows Wood under escort by six Krag Drugaen. He said they were taking him back to the Ravenstone as a slave. He’s a Warder Shae…”

Jaerod was standing. Thealos took a half-step backward without realizing it. The Sleepwalker had risen so fast, his motion was just a blur in the blackness.

“A Warder Shae,” the human said, interested. “Or should we say, the Warder Shae.”

“You know him?”

“A Warder Shae was left to guard the Everoot,” Jaerod answered. He paced away from Thealos. “When he wasn’t down in the tunnels, I assumed one of the Sorian had disposed of him.” He stopped and looked back at Thealos. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying. Forgive me. His presence is a surprise, but one that will make a great difference in our favor.” His voice whispered from the shadows. “Strange, isn’t it, Thealos? It’s as if the seasons have rolled on their wings, bringing summer, fall, and winter in the span of a week.”