Барб Хенди - Of Truth and Beasts

Ghassan had never learned a name for that lost seatt until Wynn had tampered with that scroll. And now, knowing her penchants, she had to be seeking that mythical fallen seatt. But for what purpose?

Master, do you wish me to follow her? If so, I should find a map and—

No. Where possible, complete work assigned by your group’s leader, Domin Nahid. When it is time, return home as if nothing is amiss. I may not be reachable again for some time.

Good fortune, my domin.

And to you ... to all of us.

As the medallion cooled, Ghassan rose and stood gazing down into the small fire. So little light tried to push back the dark. How ironic that in darkness was where he had always learned what would be needed in the coming days.

Wynn slipped down the passage but hesitated at knocking on Ore-Locks’s door. If only he hadn’t been there in First Glade to hear even the smallest part of where they would go next. She might’ve taken Shade and Chane and slipped away before Ore-Locks knew. But he had been there.

And if he hadn’t, what would’ve happened when Chane went mad? No matter who might’ve died in that moment, she wouldn’t have gained anything from Vreuvillä either way. Still she couldn’t help wanting this tainted stonewalker gone.

The wraith had once followed her to the ancient texts. She’d unwittingly led it right to the dwarven underworld and a hidden prince of Malourné. But even these mistakes, not of her own choice, seemed paltry compared to leading Ore-Locks to Bäalâle Seatt.

What did he want there? If only she knew.

Shade sat down beside her in the passage. Steeling herself, Wynn knocked. She heard heavy footfalls. The door cracked open, and Ore-Locks looked out at her.

His long, reddish hair hung past his shoulders. He’d removed the burnt orange vestment and wore only breeches and a loose shirt. There was a shadow of beard stubble on his face.

“We’re being watched,” she told him. “Pack up. We’re moving to an inn until we’re ready to leave.”

She turned away.

“So you intend to continue, as before?”

The question stopped her. Had there been any doubt? Why would he, of all people, even ask, since this search was all he wanted? Wynn glanced back at him, saying nothing.

“You will still travel ... with him?” Ore-Locks asked. “Accept protection from him, even after last night?”

Wynn had hidden herself away for so long in a place of denial regarding Chane. Now Ore-Locks was determined to force the truth before her eyes. He might not know Chane’s true situation, but Wynn did. Chane had killed countless people so that he might survive. He’d changed himself for her sake, but nothing could be forgotten.

“Don’t be so pious,” she answered. “You want him protecting me.”

“I can protect you.”

Wynn had no idea how to respond to this. Instead, she stepped slowly down the passage until she heard his door close. She stopped and slumped against the wall, and Shade pressed up against her.

—not ... go ... Wynn ... stay—

Shade’s growl sharpened in emphasis.

—not ... go ... Wynn ... stay safe—

“Stop it,” Wynn whispered. “Not now.”

All three of her companions were shoving her over the edge of reason. Everything was coming apart from the inside. The pressure of it all pushed tears from Wynn’s clenched eyes.

Chuillyon’s day had not been easy.

Gyâr was furious at being unable to uncover who had given Wynn the pass. During the morning’s council meeting, when the premin of Conamology questioned Gyâr’s judgment in closing the archives, Gyâr had turned on her, nearly accusing her of collusion. The meeting did not end well.

Chuillyon had no desire for further discord among the council; rather, the opposite. He needed them pacified, so he could remain intimately aware of all activities at the highest levels. Like young Wynn, he, too, believed the Ancient Enemy would return. It was essential that he knew at all times exactly who was doing what, when, and where.

Should the worst come, he would require a powerful voice in the outcome of political and military decisions for the entire Numan lands. In this, he served the royals of Malourné as counselor and quietly influenced his own branch of the guild. He might in time become high premin himself, working closely with both his own government and that of Malourné. It would put him in the best position for whatever would happen.

But until recently, Chiullyon had never bargained for the antics of one headstrong human journeyor.

Wynn Hygeorht was like a wild boar crashing through a crystal shop. She distracted everyone from his careful misdirection. She drew too much attention, and yet she always seemed to get through to her goal. He had to know exactly what she was up to before anything else was broken.

“Master?” Hannâschi called from above.

“Yes, come.”

He was not surprised to see Shâodh enter first. These two were most often found together. Chuillyon could not quite fathom what Hannâschi found appealing in the company of stoic Shâodh, but he never gave it much thought. Hannâschi entered next, lovely and composed as always, but a few strands of her hair appeared tangled.

“Journeyor Hygeorht has left the guild,” she said immediately. “She is preparing to seek out this Bäalâle Seatt. I apologize for having learned so little, but I was behind a tree in the courtyard and only able to pick up a few words as she and her companions headed for the gate. I could not follow farther for fear of being seen.”

Chuillyon stared at her, barely hearing anything after “Bäalâle Seatt.”

Hannâschi smoothed her hair and waited for some response. Chuillyon sat numb, until she and Shâodh exchanged a concerned glance.

“Domin?” Shâodh asked.

“Yes ... yes, I am listening.”

“Again, I only picked up bits and pieces,” Hannâschi went on. “It appears the journeyor did go looking for Vreuvillä. I can only assume that lone Foirfeahkan told her something of use.”

Chuillyon let out a weary breath and looked away. Wynn’s antics had frequently piqued his curiosity, and death often followed in her wake. But this was the first time her conscious choices had made him deeply nervous.

Bäalâle had fallen long ago, burying its dark secrets of how and why. Was she purposefully trying to rush events forward in seeking that place, if she could find it? What did she know that he did not?

“Where is she now?” he demanded, his voice sounding hard to his own ears.

“They are relocating to an inn somewhere in the city,” Hannâschi answered, sounding distressed that she could not tell him more.

As of yet, Shâodh had said little, but he stepped forward. “Do not be concerned. We will locate her.”

Chuillyon’s thoughts turned inward. “Yes, you do that.”

“And I will be ready, when it is time, to follow her,” Shâodh added firmly.

Chuillyon looked up at his subordinate, slightly surprised by Shâodh’s certainty of what would come next. Hannâschi eyed her companion with an almost dumbfounded expression on her lovely face.

Shâodh nodded in respect to Chuillyon as he turned away. But as Hannâschi followed, she jerked on Shâodh’s sleeve and whispered something in his ear.

Chuillyon called after them. “Both of you be ready ... for a long journey.”

Before the first bell of full night, Wynn stood in the entry room of a ground-level inn. Her tears were used up, but she felt no better at leaving the guild. Now she waited silently with Shade for the inn’s proprietor to return. Chane and Ore-Locks had both remained outside.