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The adventuring party was up and moving before dawn. Except for the driver and the elf, all were groggy and slow moving. The elf had taken part in two shifts of the double watch, since she needed no sleep, and the driver didn’t participate in any of the watches.
Shortly after sunrise the druid cast a curing spell upon the gnome and the blue jay, removing all evidence of wounds from the previous day’s fight. From then on, the travel went much as before, with the druid and big warrior trading shifts on the horse, and a lot of sleeping in the wagon when not watching for further ambushes.
They drove their four oxen hard. Their objective was to keep ahead of any escaped brigands reaching the Brick House before they did. The druid and big warrior were convinced any organizer of the ambush in the area would use that as his base of operations.
Snix had to admit, it was a reasonable theory. The Brick House attracted all sorts of travelers, and many of the less lawful types. Many meetings and deals were made there, out of the sight or hearing of city guardsmen or church leaders.
It wasn’t an establishment frequented by common merchants and members of caravans, unless in sufficient numbers and well-armed. Those deemed vulnerable were more often beat up and stripped of valuables, than accepted within the fortress-like waystation. It hadn’t always been that way. Snix’s master didn’t know why Duke Huelmer allowed the place to become hostile to common merchants. Three Hills City depended on trade for continued prosperity. The only other route, via the Snake Claw River, was unreliable during the winter months.
Three hours after sunset, the party reached the Brick House. They stopped at the well house across the road from the red-brick structure. It was really a series of buildings creating a central courtyard. The outer wall, formed by many of the buildings was both thick, and high, and the wide entry gate was currently closed, and guarded. The small gate was also guarded, but would allow those willing to enter, or leave, to do so.
The party established a camp among several other scattered caravans. The gnome and big warrior casually stood watch while the druid and driver tended to the oxen and horse. The elf and half-goblin set up the camp.
Snix listened while elf and half-goblin did so.
The elf handed down the canvas sheet to the half-goblin. The party used it to make a small A-frame tent since there wasn’t enough room in the wagon for all to sleep. Especially with the brigands’ captured weapons and gear.
“You really think it’s a good idea to stop here?” she whispered.
“Yup,” he whispered back. “Past here, the road runs along the eastern edge of the Dark Heart Swamp.”
Experience taught Snix that both elves and half-goblins had hearing superior to a human’s, almost as good as his. From his position a dozen yards from the wagon, he needed to listen carefully to hear their conversation.
She nodded understanding before going back into the wagon to get the tent’s poles and iron stakes. “We got in that big fight here last time, remember?”
“I do, but we gotta rest our oxen and Kalgore’s horse.” The half-goblin followed the elf to the wagon. “We’ll get up and going before sunrise.”
The elf hopped down, carrying the poles and a sack that held the tent’s cords and iron stakes. With her long legs, it wasn’t much of a drop. Still her chest bounced, drawing the half-goblin’s attention.
He quickly looked away, apparently embarrassed.
The elf helped unfold the tarp to set up the tent next to the wagon. “Arrive late, leave early. That way we won’t be noticed?”
“Nah, dudette.” The thief grinned, pulling the contents from the sack. He looped the cords over the ends of the tent poles and handed one to the elf. “But they’ll have to make their move tonight, or have to play catch up tomorrow.”
“And you’ll be ready for them, my little man.” She reached over and tousled his hair.
“Hey, don’t do that.” He pushed away her hand. “I already ain’t got a comb.”
“Wanna look handsome for the bad guys?” She went to the other end of the tent to set her poll. “I’ll lend you my comb.” She held the pole in place.
“Better not,” the half-goblin said, still whispering. He looked around while stretching the tent and pushing in the stakes in with his boots. He spotted where the big warrior stood watch and jerked a thumb his direction. “Kalgore’ll get jealous.”
The elf giggled. “Let him.”
Josie showed up at Higslaff’s shop several hours after nightfall. The pawnshop owner had retreated to his top-floor apartment to relax and read from a text chronicling the last century of the Morrin Confederacy, rival of the Agrippa Empire. Most would say they were enemies, and Higslaff counted himself amongst the majority.
Three Hills City was on the outskirts of Vandike, one of the lesser kingdoms within the Morrin Confederacy. Across the Snake Claw River, after a small uninhabited region, the Agrippa Empire began. Riven Rock was within that hostile empire. Higslaff suspected the centuries’ long conflict influenced the incursion by the thieves’ guild in Riven Rock.
Higslaff picked up the book and removed the silver bookmark etched with a picture of a unicorn on one side and a sea serpent on the other. He was halfway through the book. He’d purchased it five years ago from a sage’s assistant who was travelling through town. Nervousness of the assistant, and the low price he demanded hinted that it was stolen from the sage’s collection. Higslaff purchased it, knowing the theft wasn’t his problem.
The book’s history ended twenty winters prior to current events, so it wasn’t too far out of date. He’d temporarily exchanged it with Keri Lovelace for a book detailing the cultures of satyrs and centaurs. She, like him, maintained a personal library.
“Mr. Higslaff,” someone shouted up the stairs. The closed and locked door muffled words.
Higslaff got up from his desk and grabbed a scabbarded, enchanted short sword. Nothing fancy or remarkable, just a lesser enchantment making it more effective in striking and wounding. Still, it had cost him plenty of coin, even though the adventurer had been desperate for gold.
He unlocked and opened the door a crack. Seeing the hired guard inside the doorway, looking up the narrow stairwell, the pawnshop owner opened the door further.
“Yes?” he asked, trying not to sound annoyed. He’d hired two men-at-arms to watch his shop at night. Part of the price he paid for Snix’s absence. The guards weren’t too expensive. They also would do little to deter a determined theft attempt, or attack by the Riven Rock Guild. But they kept away small riffraff, and their deaths might provide warning, and time, for the pawnshop owner to take action. Save his business, or his life. Or both.
The inside guard announced, “Gordie, outside, says there’s a woman that wants to talk to you. Says her name is Josie.”
“Thanks,” Higslaff said. He lifted his hat from a hook next to the door and started down the steps. Josie wasn’t one of his contacts. She worked with a number of merchants either in or that supported the local thieves’ guild, like Josiah. With the losses to the guild, her territory and responsibilities must’ve been expanded.
Higslaff followed the inside guard down to the first floor. He pulled the enchanted short sword from its scabbard and motioned for Wenz to ready his mace. Higslaff thought about having Wenz open the front door, but it was unlikely he would recognize Josie. The guard went to do it anyway.
Normally Snix would’ve been in position to allow the pawnshop owner to scope out the situation and verify it was Josie.
“You open,” Higslaff whispered. “I’ll see if it truly is Josie.”
After Higslaff unlocked the door, Wenz opened it a crack. The guard kept a shoulder leaning against it, ready to force it closed. Unlike some merchants, Higslaff paid a little more coin to ensure competence.
The pawnshop owner recognized Josie’s outline in the shadowy light created by the scattered post-mounted Light Spells. “Thanks, Gordie,” Higslaff said to the guard standing behind her on the porch. “Come on in, Josie.”
Josie stepped in. Higslaff slid the sword back into its scabbard. He locked the door.
Higslaff nodded once to Wenz and said to the female thief, “Follow me up to my office.”
Josie was cute, with freckles and sparkling green eyes. Higslaff thought she was a little on the chubby side. She was dressed in a brown linen blouse and wool knit pants that reached mid-calf. She’d stick out among the desperate poor, but blend in with some of the middle-class merchants and their families. Her sandaled feet were dusty. She’d done a lot of walking.
She took a seat in a chair in front of Higslaff’s desk and pushed aside a curly auburn lock dangling in front of her right eye. After adjusting the position of her sheathed dagger for comfort, she began. “I’m to inform you that Kyreen Shortcuff is dead. Galthorn believes her soul never departed, and is still earthbound. Where?” She shrugged her shoulders and scrunched the left side of her face. “Probably we’ll never know.”
“Thank you for coming,” Higslaff said. “Is, not knowing her soul’s fate, Galthorn’s assessment?”
She said, “This came straight from Black Venom.”
“I see.”
“Not telling you something you don’t already know,” Josie said. “She was a tough cord, not easy to snap. But...”
Higslaff tipped his hat’s brim back. But, being high up, she knew a lot. That was the unspoken message. The pawnshop owner waited. Protocol stipulated that Josie had certain information to share, and she would. Asking questions to prompt for additional details was impolite—or an insult to some. Josie was easygoing, so impolite.
“I was told treachery by some in the City Guard is how they nabbed her.”
That statement really piqued Higslaff’s interest. That the rival guild somehow ensnared her was obvious. The City Guard were known to be hard-asses, but not corrupt.
Josie said with certainty, “Families suffer for treachery performed.”
That, like everything else, was an indirect assertion of Black Venom, to be shared. Not suffering caused by her—Josie’s—decree or action. Dealing with the guilty guardsmen directly would cause reprisals. The indirect payback might cause some reprisal, due to orders from higher up the chain of command. But those guards down at the lower ranks? They talked among themselves. They’d know the score.
Josie tugged on the sleeves of her blouse. “That is all I have to report. Is there any message that you’d like carried back?”
“Due to a scarcity of guild reliables,” he said, “I have hired a proven adventuring party to retrieve the Wand of Foe Detection for the guild. They are en route to the pickup. I anticipate their return within a week.”
He didn’t need to add that Kyreen Shortcuff knew of the task assigned to Higslaff. If she spilled the beans on it, the opportunity for the Riven Rock guild to intercept the delivering party or the adventuring party sent to retrieve the wand increased significantly.
“Would you like a cup of wine, water or cider, before you go back out, onto the streets?”
That offer told the female thief that the pawnshop owner had no other messages for her to relay. She stood and declined the offer with a hand gesture. “I have more people to meet tonight.”
Higslaff stood and walked around his desk, toward the door leading downstairs. “Maybe another time, and place. I’ll by the first round.”
“Sure,” she said.
The pawnshop owner could tell she was already thinking about her next destination, possibly considering if she should alter her intended route. It’s what he would be pondering.
Higslaff put the history book away and prepared himself for bed.
Although Shortcuff was a skilled member of the guild, and her loss would be felt, he wouldn’t miss her. She was a Favored Soul. He didn’t appreciate the grief they often brought. He also knew that, although the gods tended to favor and watch out for them, Favored Souls tended to meet with violent ends.
He thought about using Snix to warn the adventuring party. A vague warning, where he couldn’t provide details related to the guild, seemed unproductive. He had no idea of how or if the rival guild would take action—if they learned about it from Shortcuff. She knew a lot more of value than the most recent mission he’d been assigned. Even so, he’d have to hire a third guard.
The adventuring party held a significant head start on anyone the rival guild might dispatch to take the Wand of Foe Detection for themselves.
He slipped the thick tome of history on the shelf. Lysine and his party would make the pickup. He dismissed the failed brigand ambush as originating from Riven Rock. Any chance at interception would happen while returning from Shorn Spearhead.
If the situation changed, he might order Snix to reveal himself, and relay a warning. That coming need seemed unlikely. Lysine was an observant leader, and Gurk was resourceful.
Besides, they were all Favored Souls.
Nobody bothered the party during the night. They watered and fed oats from the wagon to their oxen and horse before moving out ahead of the other two caravans that decided to form into one. Through casual conversation, the big warrior learned the combined caravan was heading toward Three Hills City.
The morning passed slowly as the party trundled north. The big warrior kept his mount on the west side of the road, nearest the Dark Heart Swamp. When they stopped for lunch and to rest the oxen and horse, Snix landed and hid behind a prickly bush.
The party began bickering about what was purchased for the food rations and what would’ve been better.
Snix snatched a field mouse that wandered too close and popped it into his mouth. Due to his enchanted nature, eating wasn’t necessary for survival. It was, however, something he enjoyed—if the food was right. Tadpoles were the best, just ahead of earthworms, followed by chicken eggs a day or two before hatching. Field mice were a treat, since the pawnshop’s familiar tended to catch them, and didn’t share. Maybe the new familiar could be persuaded, or intimidated?
The blue jay began jeer calling an alarm. He was looking right at the bush Snix had settled behind, feathers ruffled.
“Petie sees something,” the elf said. She looked up at the bird perched atop the wagon. “What is it?”
Snix slowly began to back away. The noon sun was up, with no cloud cover. Despite blending in, he was casting a shadow. Tucked close to the thorn bush, that didn’t matter.
“Over there.” The elf pointed. “Around that bush.” Her keen elven eyes were trained his direction. The half-goblin had his cutlass drawn and was moving toward the bush from the right. The druid, with spear in hand, was coming from the left. The big warrior, for some reason, had pulled out his short bow and nocked an arrow.
Snix wiped the faint tracks his clawed feet left in the dry dirt. They weren’t much, but the druid or thief might detect them.
He scuttled backwards, behind a clump of grass and hunched down.
The bird jeer called another alarm. The elf said, “I saw it too—I think.” She drew her rapier and strode forward.
The druid and half-goblin thief were moving up, getting close. Only thing to do was to take flight and hope for the best.
“Describe what you observed,” the druid said.
“There—huh?” the thief said. He sprinted forward and pointed his cutlass where Snix had been. “I saw something. Like a gray spot, or shadow.”
“Shadow of what?” the big warrior asked, looking around in the sky.
“I dunno, dude.” The thief poked his cutlass into the patch of grass. “Weird.”
The party remained extra vigilant the rest of the day, watching for shadows. Snix kept his distance, even during the night, being especially wary of the elf and her familiar. As a result, he was only able to listen in on bits of conversation. After his previous reporting, his master wanted to know more about the adventuring party, so having to remain at a distance was a problem.
He’d have to do something to distract the elf and her familiar.