Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

“She’s exactly the person you don’t want to be curious about,” Able said. “Let’s just say she holds enough sway in this town that I keep a case of a particular vintage on hand just for her and that she drinks for free. She usually drinks alone and when she does drink with someone else, it bodes ill for someone. If you’ve not heard of the Green Death, you have now.”

Pantros recalled a story somewhere in Sheillene’s repertoire about a killer-for-hire who wore a green velvet cloak. The story ended badly for several of its characters. He decided it would be a good time to leave The Three Diamonds. “I’ll see myself out then.” He didn’t feel he’d been threatened, but being in the presence of such a legendary monster and having antagonized the Guild just by his existence, his plan was to leave town as soon as possible.

Approaching the Rampant Gelding, he was reminded why he’d left. The music was hypnotizing and Pantros didn’t like the time he’d lost his awareness to Sheillene’s music. The music was fine, just not something he was in the mood for. He only had a limited time in Fork, so he decided he’d learn as much about it as he could.

Three hours of walking along thoroughfares and peering into the taproom of one tavern after another led Pantros to the part of the city he was most curious about: The Pit. Though it was long after sunset, the sounds of haggling filled the dense air. His senses had cleared and he wouldn’t be making the mistake again of missing details like he had at the Three Diamonds.

Around The Pit, he noticed dozens of children selling ribbons like the one David had given him. He also noticed that the rare person who walked past a ribbon seller without a ribbon on their purse, would, within a few paces, have a small hand dart in and out of their purse.

The rumors that anything and everything was for sale in the pit appeared to be true. He’d passed by people selling everything from dried meat to a small caged dragon. The dragon’s price was dozens of times the price Pantros had paid for his stewardship.

When he passed by the display case of a jeweler, what he saw brought him to a stop. Inside the case was a pair of royal crowns with a sign saying, “Jeweler to the Kings.” A woman behind the case was sketching on a small easel.

“Are these the current king and queen’s crowns?” Pantros asked.

“They’re the mock-ups I made before the final version. The gold is just plated and the gems are glass in case you’re thinking they’re worth what they appear to be worth. Not worth stealing at all.” The woman said.

“Does everyone know how to spot a thief in this town?” Pantros asked.

“The Guild trains the merchants,” The woman said. “We’re offered a nice reward to turn in non-guild thieves.”

“You can tell I’m not Guild?” he asked.

“Only because you asked a question every Guild thief wouldn’t need to ask,” the woman said.

“I’m not here to steal anything,” Pantros said. “I’m actually thinking of buying something.” He hadn’t been thinking it long. But a plan was formulating in his head and, though he considered it a bad idea, decided to see how far he could take it before it presented any actual risk. “Would you be able to cut another piece of glass like the one on top of the King’s crown you have here?”

The woman nodded. “It would take me a few hours.”

“So if you sold me the one that’s there, you’d be able to replace it without too much effort?” Pantros asked.

“Probably, but don’t think that doesn’t mean it will be cheap,” The woman said. “I’ve been trained by both Matderi and Abvi. My skill calls for quite the premium wage.

Pantros set five gold coins on the counter. “I expected as much.”

The jeweler’s eyes brightened at the sight of the gold. By her reaction, Pantros could tell he’d offered far too much.

The sun was rising by the time Pantros returned to the Rampant Gelding. The knight’s carriage sat in the street in front of the Inn. Marc was loading his guitar and Sheillene’s pack and waved to him.

“We figured you would be out,” the giant said. “Estephan is inside; he wanted to talk to us when you got here.”

The prince’s presence made Pantros only slightly nervous. He resisted the urge to check on the two gems tucked under his shirt. There was no way he’d been caught.

Inside Estephan sat at the end of a large table. David and Meredith sat to his left. Sheillene, Thomas and Tara all sat close as well. Otherwise the taproom was completely empty. Marc and Pantros took seats and then Estephan stood.

“My father is dying,” He said. Pantros, like everyone else at the table, started to voice his condolences, but Estephan silenced them with a gesture and continued. “I have to stay here and attend him, but I need a message taken to my brother in Melnith. He’s serving as an Ambassador, but he is two years older than me, which means when my father dies, my brother Reginald will be King. I’m giving you my carriage for the journey.”

“You want us to tell your brother?” Pantros asked.

“No, that would be asking too much. I am simply asking you to deliver a letter to him.” Estephan pushed a folded piece of parchment towards Sheillene. The letter had a wax bead on it bearing arms, probably those of the kingdom. “Lady Sheillene, I charge you with this missive,” he said.

“Yes, Highness. It’ll get there as fast as I can,” Sheillene said. “Do you have fresh horses stationed along the Abvian Highway?”

“No,” Estephan said. “I’m sending extra gold with the drivers. They’re going to try to trade for fresh horses when they can. Pantros, I’m charging you with securing the gold. You seem to be an expert in that area.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Pantros was already regretting his early morning job, but he didn’t know how to undo it. Clearly, he wouldn’t have time get to the palace and back and even if he could, there would be more people in the great hall at this time of day. He pondered handing the ruby to Estephan, but knew that it was not the time for it, if there ever was a time for it, which he doubted.

“I’m going with them,” David said.

“I won’t order you to,” the prince said. “But, you don’t have another cycle at the Abandoned Arch for three seasons, so you are free to go where you will. Your leg is better?”

“I know one of the Tempests by the south docks, they aided the healing a little,” David said. “I could dance, well, if I could dance.”

“I’ve seen him try,” Meredith said. “A one-legged minotaur would have more grace.”

“It’s time I returned to the palace,” the prince said. “Your carriage should be ready for you to be on your way as well.”

Lady Glacia stood on her private balcony overlooking her holding in Demia. The cool breeze off her ice caves kept her palace comfortable. The only ice in Demia and it was hers. To her, it was what made her territories so special. Others, with ambitions, wanted it because it bordered directly on the lands of the King of Demia.

By concentrating a little, Glacia could focus her eyes on the distant lands, several leagues away. She set so many plans in motion every day, usually for her own amusement. The Murdread plans were finally coming to their ultimate fruition. Far away, at the gates to the King’s Palace, a very small army bearing Murdread’s sigil was pushing through a weak defense. The gates had already fallen and in the courtyard, pockets of defenders were struggling in vain.

A small demon glided down onto her balcony. Refocusing to her immediate surroundings, she held out her hand and summoned her icicle staff. It materialized in her hand with its point already barely penetrating the new arrival’s throat.