CHAPTER 2

Voices rang through the Market Ward of Westruun. Merchants praised their wares, every one of them trying to drown out the others. A group of street children ran after a ball, weaving through the crowds, across the cobblestone roads, and laughing uproariously. A young girl—perhaps the one with the nimblest fingers—managed to cut a purse or two along the way. Outside a dodgy-looking tavern, a gray-haired dwarven bard gathered a small audience while he drunkenly belted an ode to Zan Tal’Dorei, and two patrons appeared to be in the midst of a heated argument.

The city was, Vex decided, obnoxious and loud compared to the woods. It wasn’t just the noise either. It was the stench of the place. Muck and manure mixed with ale, sweat, and rotted food. Even the comforting smell of fresh bread from one of the bakers couldn’t mask the grime underneath, and it clung to her.

Cities always got under her skin when she came in from the wild. But where she raised her hackles, Vax thrived. His shoulders dropped and his awareness sharpened. He walked with the gait of someone who expected trouble and would in fact welcome it.

“You look like you’d rather step into another spider’s nest than hang about here, sister,” he teased. He’d snatched an apple from a cart and tossed it high up into the air before taking a bite. “Don’t worry, I’ll find us something fun to do.”

She rubbed at her forehead. “Why does your idea of fun concern me?”

Vax sidestepped one of the children running across the street, and as a result nearly collided with a brash half-orc who immediately swung around, hand on ax. “Hey, asshole! Watch where you’re going!”

The half-orc, who wore patched-up leather armor and had an impressive array of tattoos snaking up her arms, had at least a couple of inches and quite a bit of muscle on Vax, and he raised his hands in a soothing gesture, letting the apple drop to the ground. “Sorry, friend. Didn’t mean any harm.”

She scowled, her hands high and her stance tense, but her dwarven companion reached up to grab her by the arm and steered her away in the direction of an armorer’s workshop. As soon as she was out of sight, Vax let a small coin purse tumble out of his sleeve, the sleight of hand made effortless by many years of practice, and weighed it in his hands. “This should cover at least an extra night in town.”

Vex rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable. Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you love me. And I help pay the bills.” Vax emptied the purse into one of his pockets and tossed the pouch itself into the shopping bag of an elderly gnome woman. “Plus, I’m your favorite brother.”

“You’re my only brother,” Vex said coolly.

He grinned. “So what you’re saying is I’m right.”

“What I’m saying is you should deliver that letter and earn us some honest coin.”

“You like coin regardless of where it’s from.”

When she didn’t reply, he turned to her, and she shrugged. “I’m not going to deny that.”

They made their way to a large square, where stalls and shops and side streets tumbled over one another, with awnings and cloths in vibrant colors, all the metalwares gleaming in the afternoon sun. Outside an apothecary, a young halfling girl juggled half a dozen vials in different colors, sparks of light glinting off them, and praised the quality and potency of the concoctions on offer. A young man in a sleek gray coat, wearing a pair of stylish boots, stood in front of a jeweler’s shop, haggling over a silver bracelet.

Here too the sound cascaded around the twins. And while Vax’s attention was drawn by the bladesmith’s stall tucked away in one corner, Vex took a moment to plot her approach, determined to find the best places to get their goods, the right balance between quality and reasonable prices. She’d made a mental list of errands. She’d counted and recounted their coin before they entered Westruun, figured out the lay of the land, and knew which supplies were most necessary. The apothecary was a must. A new vial of antivenin would be expensive, but she didn’t want to travel without, and she had the harvested venom to trade and bring down the price. They also needed a new supply of dried herbs for poultices.

Then her eye fell on another storefront, where the shutters were opened to show an entire cabinet full of copper and tin figurines, as well as some wooden carvings. Birds of all shapes and sizes, wolves, bears, little cats and ferocious dragons, intricate trees too, and houses. Inside the shop, a shadowed figure sat whittling away at a dimly lit table.

Vex gasped. Without stopping to think, she wandered over and picked up a small copper bear. She turned it this way and that, letting the figure catch the bright sunlight. In the interplay of light and shadows, the rough scratches that crossed the copper animal became fur, and the lines around the head were full of emotion and character. It was no bigger than an inch or two.

“Hello?” The craftsman inside the shop stood and walked into the light. He had a heavily stained apron tied around his waist, and his thick glasses magnified sharp eyes. He wore his long black hair with strands of silver tied back in a braid, and the shorn sides made his pointed ears stand out. He took in Vex’s scruffy appearance, and his welcoming expression made way for an icier one. He folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Can I help you?” The words were blandly polite, while his tone was full of suspicion.

“Never mind.” Vex put the figurine back, nearly knocking a few others from their place, and she turned before the shopkeeper could say another word. She slammed past another customer who’d stepped up to the shop and registered someone muttering behind her. Someone else laughed.

This was why she didn’t take to cities. Life was simpler out in the wild. She didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. Here, she did. She wanted to be able to walk up to any of the shopkeepers and be seen as someone worthy of attention, but that bastard’s glare and his tone of derision were proof that she couldn’t, and it poked at a bruise that wouldn’t fade.

Vax, who was still at the bladesmith’s stall, glanced her way and frowned, so Vex shook her head and rolled her eyes. She straightened her shoulders. They needed to focus on what they came here to do and nothing more. If Vax could find them some decent jobs, at least that would be one fewer worry.

She pushed across the square, passing half a dozen gnomish girls who were sharing a bag of sweets and giggling loudly. A halfling man carried an infant girl on his shoulders and pointed out the juggling vials and a string of magical lights around a baker’s stall. A group of young men wearing the familiar trappings of the Shields of the Plains were discussing the size of their swords, presumably.

By the time Vex reached her brother, he was flirting with the pale-haired young woman minding the wares, and she was blushing furiously. Vax pulled at the collar of his shirt, no doubt to indicate where the spider had bit, and Vex groaned inwardly.

She stepped in, grabbed him by the sleeve, and pulled him away from the stall. “Excuse us for a moment.”

“I was in the middle of doing business,” Vax protested.

“I’m sure you were having a lovely discussion about sharpening your blades, O slayer of spiders. But we have more pressing matters.” Vex reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter they were hired to deliver. It was wrapped up in waxed paper and sealed, its name written in a careful though slightly uncertain hand. She held it out to him. “This, jobs, and supplies.”

“But I do need to get my blades sharpened,” Vax tried in a tone of utmost reason.

She glared at him, and after a moment’s hesitation, he snatched the letter from her hand. He grinned at her. “Fine. Meet me at the Temple of the Changebringer when you’re done here. I’ll take care of everything.”

Her brother exchanged a few more words with the bladesmith before wandering off, a challenge in his step and his hands flexing by his side. Vex watched him go. He’d scope out work as comfortably as she could follow tracks when they were out in the wild. He’d probably also steal enough to cover the next few nights on the way to whatever dodgy inn he located. They teamed up, on occasion, if needs were dire or people were awful or they were exceptionally bored. She would distract shopkeepers while he snatched what they needed. She’d become good at charming even the roughest and gruffest types. But it was always a means to survival for her. Her brother seemed to get a kick out of it all, as easy to him as breathing.

She glanced back at the elven craftsperson with the figurines, who was now in the process of helping a human man with blond hair and a stylish hat, and a treacherous voice in the back of her mind wondered what her father would say if he could see the two of them now. Presumably they lived up to all his prejudices about half-elves and their impunity.

She pushed the thoughts away with a snarl, startling a human woman carrying a braided basket full of vegetables. With one look at Vex’s frown, the woman dashed out of the way, grumbling something about those fighting types.

Gods. She needed to focus. Vex set her jaw and told herself to set to work. Concentrate on her errands, tick off as many things as possible on her list of necessary goods, and haggle for every last copper piece. So she did. She had to threaten to walk away from one of the apothecaries and take her gold to his competitor before he agreed to lower the prices for her. She winked at and sweet-talked a willowy, green-eyed bowyer with an easy smile, who refused to budge on the price of bracers, but who gave her a good deal on strings and wax and invited her out to drinks later.

While Vex didn’t plan to take the bowyer up on that, she promised herself to come back for the bracers the next day, if she couldn’t find anything else. She relaxed into the familiar push and pull of bargaining. This, too, was a necessary skill, and one she was good at. She loved making every copper count.

BY THE TIME VEX HAD finished two-thirds of her list, the sun was low in the sky and the majority of the shops were shuttering. Dusk crept through the streets. A handful of carts and stalls still kept their wares spread out, and the most stubborn would remain in business for as long as there was light, reminding her now of another market she once frequented, in what felt like another lifetime. But there was no magic in the air here, no song or starlit charms. Merely loud voices and barking dogs and screaming children. The day wrapping up, and the rhythm of the city turning to a softer pace. At nightfall, the energy of the day dwindled and everyone went home or to the tavern.

She took her bearings and was making her way to one of the tailors when the high window of a narrow shop, wedged deftly between a butcher and a weaver, caught her eye. The glass panes were cracked in places and dirty, and a soft orange light glowed inside. It illuminated stacks and stacks of books and scrolls. On tables, on shelves, even randomly placed across the floor. Next to the entrance stood a raggedy table, only half sheltered by the store’s awning, and on top of it were yet more books. A scruffy gnomish individual sat next to them, his chair leaning back against the wall and a pipe in his mouth. He had a book on his lap and gestured at her to take a look at his wares without taking his pale-green eyes off his reading. He had no intention of closing for the day.

And with Vax off to find his own inevitable trouble, she hesitated. She couldn’t resist a look. If her brother scrounged up a few jobs, perhaps she would be able to treat herself to a book—if the gnome had anything worthwhile. It wasn’t necessity, but it was need all the same.

She pushed her bag higher on her shoulder and reached for a tome at random, a thin volume bound in cracked red leather. It showed the title—The Beast of Wildwood—in stamped letters on the cover. When she leafed through, many of the pages were yellowed and torn. Another book showed similar wear and tear, as did a third. It appeared the gnome didn’t mind or didn’t care. He simply kept reading his book.

Vex walked around the table until she stood in the door opening to the store, picking up and discarding books at random. A book full of drunken rhymes. A thin volume on birds and bird-watching. A battered tome on the architecture of temples. All of them looked well used and none of them were what she was looking for. There might be nothing of interest here, but it went against her better judgment not to try.

“Excuse me?” She had to repeat the words once more before the gnome looked up. He squinted at her.

“Yes?” He kept his pipe in the corner of his mouth while he spoke—though it didn’t appear to be lit—and as a result his words were slurred. “Looking for something?”

Vex plastered on a polite smile and wondered how susceptible the bookseller was to a well-placed wink. “Do you have anything on the biology of dragons?”

“Nursery tales inside. Fiction too. Might be a work or two of ancient history, but nothing recent and nothing good,” he replied, his interest rapidly waning and flicking back to the book. He chewed on the pipe. “Nothing that is worth your time. Best be off now. Thank you for your interest.” The words were spoken with such cheerful finality that Vex was taken aback for a second.

Before she could gather her thoughts and reply, another voice cut in.

“Perhaps I might be of assistance?”

She turned and found a human man with a pale complexion standing a few paces away. He wore a sleek gray coat trimmed with gold, and his ash-blond hair fell above the shoulder while his eyes were piercingly blue. He carried a hat and his purse in one hand and showed no visible weaponry. Executing a perfect, gallant bow, he reached out a hand to Vex. “Allow me to introduce myself, my lady, my name is Lord Berin Abenard, officer of the court of law and your faithful servant.”

Fuck. Just what this day needed.