“I think I just saw her!” Miri said. She had burst in on Gerrold and Menold as they took a break from the booth. “She disappeared into the crowd, but she had a Maiden with her, just like the Elders said!”
Gerrold and Menold looked at each other excitedly.
“Well,” Gerrold said. “Shouldn’t we go after her?”
“She’s supposed to come to us,” Miri said, putting out a hand, as if to stop him from crashing past her into the bazaar. “The Elders were very specific.”
“But, we spotted her first,” Menold said. “Does that mean nothing?”
Gerrold sighed. “Miri has been right all this time. I suppose we should wait.” He shook his finger at her, “But, not forever.”
Stellus assured his three slaves were secured to their posts before entering his tent behind the booth. Inside, instead of the welcoming face of his concubine, he found the hovering black shadow that had plagued him of late. Its unblinking, golden eyes regarded him coldly, making him shift from foot to foot, and look at the ground more often than his pride would have liked.
“You saw her?” the shadow asked.
“Yes,” Stellus answered. “She was with a Maiden, as described. She doesn’t look important. Just another of these northern peasants.”
“Your opinion is noted,” the shadow said, mockingly. “The fact that my children have been unable to destroy her speaks to me, however. She is protected, therefore she is important. She is what we have awaited.”
“And what is that?” Stellus asked.
“Salvation or destruction,” the shadow answered. “Find her, bring her to me. If you cannot bring her, kill her. Now.”
Stellus had no idea how he was going to accomplish this. The girl would be no trouble. He would simply knock her unconscious and drag her away. The Maiden, however, was a problem. He knew of few who could stand against a Maiden in combat. He was not one of them.
As he moved through the night traffic of the bazaar, an idea struck him. He knew a merchant nearby who could solve this problem. He changed course, and headed for the edges of the bazaar. In a few minutes, he was standing outside a booth where a small fire played atop a single torch. She was still open, one of many merchants whose merchandise sold better at night.
“Stellus,” the young woman said as he approached. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“Good evening, Gretta,” Stellus said. “I come with hope that you have some of your more potent wares prepared.”
“Ah, the costly ones,” Gretta purred.
Stellus snorted, “Of course.” He reached into his pouch and pulled out a glittering necklace, covered in stones. “The very costly ones.”
No comments:
Post a Comment