almost read their thoughts. As Karrnathi soldiers stationed in Geirrid, they were pledged to protect the town, and one of their own had just been put down by a woman bearing a symbiont. On the other hand, they had been acting like children, and their friend had drawn a dagger on Lirra when she’d made no aggressive move toward him. In the end-and in the absence of orders from a superior officer-they gathered up their unconscious comrade and carried him out of the tavern, casting dark looks back at Lirra as they departed. With the soldiers gone, the show was over and the noise level in the Wyvern’s Claw returned to normal as the patrons went back to their various conversations.

Lirra commanded the tentacle whip to withdraw into her sleeve and coil around her forearm once more. The symbiont wasn’t pleased about having its fun cut short, but it did as it was told. Lirra then turned to Ranja, weary from fighting so hard to control her anger and disappointed that she’d failed. She’d have to do better if she were to have any hope of using the symbiont instead of being used by it.

“Thank you,” she said.

The shifter’s bestial aspect was already fading, and by the time she finished speaking, she appeared fully human again. “You’re welcome.” She grinned. “Besides, I can’t have you getting killed before you can get me my introduction to Bergerron, can I?”

“Then let’s get going. The sooner we track down Elidyr-” But before Lirra could finish the thought, one of the dwarves rose and walked over to her. He carried himself with great dignity, and if he was afraid of her at all, he didn’t show it. The conversation in the room died down once more as the patrons sensed more entertainment might be in the offing.

“I am Quarran Delletar, Secundar of Clan Delletar.” The way he spoke his family’s name told Lirra that he expected her to recognize it, but when it was clear she didn’t, he went on. “You have our thanks for standing up for the honor of our clan, though it was unnecessary. We are perfectly capable of defending our name.”

His tone was gruff, and his gratitude obviously grudging. There was also an edge of challenge in his voice, as if he was angry with Lirra for what she’d done. She glanced over at Quarran’s two companions and saw their expressions were neutral.

They’re waiting to see what I’ll do, she thought.

She inclined her head in acceptance of his thanks. “It was my honor, Secundar Delletar. Those soldiers needed a lesson in manners, and as a veteran of the Karrnathi military, it was my duty to see that they received it.”

Quarran’s gaze strayed to her left arm and then returned to her face. “You have an unusual … skill. There are those who would look askance at such talent, but my people are practical first and foremost. We have a saying: ‘A tool is only as effective as the one who wields it.’ You wielded yours most effectively, and with restraint. I appreciate restraint. I believe in control, and I loathe waste.”

He seemed to consider for a moment before reaching into a vest pocket and removing an iron token shaped like a coin. He flipped it to Lirra and she caught it easily. She examined it and saw that on one side was a design of a pick and shovel with their handles crossed, and on the other side was a series of runes she couldn’t decipher, but which she recognized as Dwarven letters.

“That’s a token of Clan Delletar. If you ever have need of assistance, show this to any trader in Karrnath, and you shall receive aid. Any cost incurred by their assistance will be covered by my family.”

Lira wasn’t sure when or if she’d ever have need to redeem the dwarf’s token, but she had no desire to offend him, so she tucked it into one of her uniform pockets.

“Thank you, Secundar. You are most gracious.”

“Not at all, Lady …”

The question hung in the air, and Lirra didn’t know how to respond to it. She didn’t want to give her real name, but she also didn’t want to lie to Quarran. Still, she had little choice. But as she struggled to come up with a false a name to give the man, Ranja stepped in.

“She is known as Lady Ruin,” the shifter said.

Quarran raised an eyebrow at this, but then he slowly smiled at Lirra. “It suits you, my lady. Good travels to you.” He nodded to Ranja. “And you as well.”

The dwarf started to turn, but before he did, Lirra said, “One more thing, Secundar.”

He paused and gave her a questioning look.

“Why did you and your friends stop in here? It’s a humble tavern, to say the least, and the stew leaves more than a little to be desired.”

Quarran laughed. “You humans lack the discerning palates of dwarves. This tavern serves the best stew in the entire country-and they charge almost nothing for it!”

Chuckling, Quarran turned and walked off. The other two dwarves rose from their table and joined him, and the three departed the tavern without a backward glance. The patrons of the Wyvern’s Claw once more went back to their conversations, but they were hushed, more than a few men and woman tossed furtive glances Lirra’s way, and once or twice she heard the words Lady Ruin pass their lips.

She turned to Ranja, but the shifter just grinned.

“My people have a saying, too: ‘A name is what your friends call you.’ ” She glanced in the direction of the table that had been broken when Lirra flung the loudmouthed soldier through the air. One of the servers was busy clearing away the splintered remnants of the table and trying not to look at Lirra as she worked. “Lady Ruin has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?” the shifter said. “And you have to admit, it’s appropriate.”

“It’s not exactly the name of someone who wishes to travel unnoticed,” Lirra said, irritated, “but I suppose it will do as well as any other.”

“Fortune smiled upon you this day, my friend. Clan Delletar is one of the most powerful banking families among the dwarves, and they don’t hand out their tokens lightly. You must’ve really impressed them. And it’s not a one-time thing, you know. The token is yours to keep for life, and you can use it as many times as you wish. It’s a very handy thing to have indeed.”

The greed in Ranja’s voice was unmistakeable, and Lirra reached into her vest to pull out the token. “Do you want it? Perhaps we can count it as partial payment for your helping me find Elidyr.”

“I’d love to take it from you, but I can’t. It’s only good for you. Quarran and his friends will soon begin spreading the word among the dwarven community that they gave a token to a woman with a symbiont who goes by the name Lady Ruin. And if anyone else ever tries to use your token, Clan Delletar will make them regret it.”

Lirra didn’t know how she felt about that. It was possible that the token would come in handy somewhere down the line, but she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of the name Ranja had saddled her with being spread throughout Karrnath, and perhaps beyond. Still, there was nothing she could do about it, and she placed the dwarven token back into her vest pocket and decided to forget about it for now.

“All right,” Lirra said. “Now if we can get started?”

The two women crossed the room to the door, Lirra uncomfortably aware of the patron’s gazes following them as they left. So much for keeping a low profile, she thought.

Once on the street, Ranja starting ticking off a list of things they would need.

“We could probably use a pair of horses. And we’ll need packs and other supplies. I don’t know how much silver you have on you, but I suppose I can cover the cost of whatever we buy for now.” She grinned. “Unless we get lucky and can find a dwarven merchant in town. In which case we can start putting that token of yours to good use.”

Before Lirra could reply, she heard shouts and cries of alarm coming from the far end of the street. She looked and saw a mass of people running toward them, and her first thought was that word had gotten out that a woman with a symbiont had been brawling in the Wyvern’s Claw, and the outraged citizens of Geirrid had banded together to come after her. She drew her sword and the tentacle whip uncoiled and slipped free of her sleeve. Beside her, Ranja shifted and raised her claws, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

But the wave of townsfolk broke around the two women as if they were a pair of large rocks in a rushing river, and it was quickly clear to Lirra that the people weren’t interested in her. Indeed, from the way they kept casting glances behind them, it appeared they were running from something.

She felt suddenly strange, almost dizzy. There was a tingling sensation at the base of her skull, and cold nausea filled her stomach. She knew instinctively that something was wrong here-very wrong.

Without waiting for Lirra’s command, the tentacle whip lashed out and grabbed a fleeing man by the arm and

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