James Wyatt - Storm dragon

“Look, Marsh,” an oily voice purred from an alley to her right, “we found ourselves a noble mouse. A half-elf mouse. Half elf, half mouse.” The man laughed, loud and grating.

Rienne sank into a combat stance, and she could feel the hesitation already taking root in her opponents’ minds. A quick glance showed her two assailants, emerging from the alleys on either side of her, and she heard a third trying to sneak up behind her. Keeping her attention on the position of the three attackers, she pulled again at Maelstrom’s wrappings, trying to free the hilt so she could pull the blade loose.

“Ooh, the mouse has been to fencing school.” It was the same one that had spoken before, foolishly drawing attention to himself before he was close enough to attack. He was a lanky human with a weirdly asymmetrical look to him, like one side of his body had grown just a bit faster than the other. He sort of half limped, half shuffled toward her, a leering smile spread across his angular face.

“I’m not sure about this, Jad.” The one coming in from her left was an orc, clearly brought in on the operation for his size and strength, though he displayed more sense than his leader at that moment.

Jad responded to Marsh’s hesitation the best way he could imagine: he shouted, “Get her!” and sprang forward, his gangly arms flailing wildly. He held a wavy-bladed dagger in each hand.

Rienne managed a firm grip on the hilt of Maelstrom but didn’t have time to draw the blade. She didn’t need to. She ducked slightly, batted Jad’s left arm aside with her sword-silk, scabbard, and all-and pushed his right arm so the dagger slashed across Marsh’s chest. Marsh yelped in pain and surprise, and Jad staggered backward. She could see the doubt gnawing at his mind, and she used their hesitation to quiet her mind.

While her eyes kept careful watch on the two assailants before her and her ears listened for the approach of the man behind, her innermost mind quieted, opened-like a flower opening to the new sun-then focused, channeling her inner energy into a fine point, a sharp edge of energy that flowed into her limbs. She focused the energy and held it, waiting.

The one behind her hung back for that first instant, but then he came charging in. Without turning, Rienne crouched, gathered her soul energy, then released it, springing straight upward. She slammed down on the back of the third attacker, cracking his skull with Maelstrom in its sheath, then landed on her feet behind him. The third assailant fell like a stone, and his head bounced once off the stone walkway.

Jad and Marsh stood flanking the prone body of their companion and gaped at her. Marsh started backing away first, keeping a wary eye on her in case she decided to charge after him. Rienne took the opportunity to draw Maelstrom from its sheath.

That was enough. Marsh and Jad turned tail and ran, leaving their unconscious ally to Rienne’s mercy. She touched her lips to Maelstrom’s blade and slid it back into the sheath. She started to return the blade to its silk wrapping, then thought better of it. She unrolled the silk and wound it around her waist, then carefully placed the scabbard into its folds so she could draw the blade more easily if she were attacked again.

Only then did she check on the third attacker, the one whose face she’d never seen. She rolled him over onto his back-he was a handsome young man-and checked the pulse in his throat. Aside from a large bump on his head, he’d be fine when he woke up.

He was lucky she’d never freed her blade.

Krathas stared at her across a filthy desk covered with scraps of parchment, and Rienne stared back. The sign on his office door had identified him as an inquisitive affiliated with House Tharashk’s Finders’ Guild. Rienne wondered what kind of business he attracted in Subsidence-certainly not jobs that paid very well, if his office was any indication. He was clearly past his prime, his hair thinning and white and his face deeply lined, though he was still muscular and tall-very tall. He had made a show of welcoming her in and clearing a chair for her to sit on, though he fell silent as soon as she mentioned Gaven’s name. That was when the staring began.

At last he broke the silence, though he didn’t look away. “Last I heard, Gaven was in Dreadhold,” he said, watching her carefully. “In fact, I heard you were the one who put him there.”

She held his gaze. “I thought he was possessed and needed help.”

“You thought his actions might disgrace your family and get in the way of your social climbing.”

Rienne felt a surge of anger but held it down, making sure no trace of it showed on her face. “Is that what he told you?”

“Something like that.”

“When did you talk to him last?”

“Sixteenth of Zarantyr.”

“Zarantyr? Three months ago?”

“Sorry, was I not clear? Three months and twenty-six years ago. Just before they locked him up.”

Rienne sighed and looked away. She remembered that month, all those years ago. It had been a cold winter, and she’d spent many hours staring out windows at snow-draped fields and blank white skies. She looked sharply at Krathas again.

“Just before? The sixteenth?”

“That’s right.”

“That was after his trial. Was he here? In Vathirond?”

Krathas stared at her for another long moment. “Not then, no. I spoke to him at a Sivis message station. They let him put his affairs in order before they locked him up.”

“What did he ask you to do?”

“I’m afraid that’s between him and me, Lady Alastra. I’m sure if he had wanted you involved, he would’ve contacted you.”

“Krathas, if you’re not inclined to help me, I shall be forced to consult with another member of your esteemed House Tharashk. It would be unfortunate if I accidentally mentioned to them how a certain half-orc inquisitive used to give Gaven leads on finding dragonshard deposits for House Lyrandar. I understand that’s a business House Tharashk would rather keep a tight hold on.”

She had hoped to avoid playing that card. She wasn’t positive that Gaven’s information had come from Krathas-Gaven had always been very cagey about revealing his source. And she wasn’t sure that House Tharashk hadn’t known about it, perhaps collected large fees from Gaven for that information. She had leaped from a couple of hunches, and she dearly hoped they proved accurate.

Krathas’s face registered nothing, but he was silent again for a long moment, studying her. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter. “He told you that?”

“Something like that.”

“There’s no way you can prove that.”

So her hunches had been on the mark. “Do I need to?”

Krathas took a deep breath and let it slowly out through his nostrils. “Very well, Lady. What is it you want from me?”

“Gaven has escaped,” Rienne said, watching Krathas carefully. His eyebrows raised, but she couldn’t judge whether he was genuinely surprised. “I have a hard time believing you hadn’t heard that already.”

“My sources aren’t what they once were.”

“I hope that won’t diminish your usefulness to me. I want to find him before the forces of the four dragonmarked houses who are scouring Khorvaire at this moment do, and that’s where I need your help.”

“If I didn’t know he escaped, how can I possibly know where to find him?”

“I know he was arrested here in Vathirond, and you just told me he contacted you after his conviction and had you do something for him. I assume there’s something here he cares about, maybe even something he’ll come back here for. What is it?”

“It’s been almost thirty years, Lady.”

“I assume he planned for the possibility that it would be even longer before he was able to return. That’s why he contacted you.”