the renegades, and we need them back. They are a danger to whoever possesses them.”
“Very well,” Par-Salian said. “We’ll try to find them. What else?”
“Tythonnia,” Ladonna said. “I think we’re losing her.”
Berthal stepped into his tent to find Kinsley asleep atop his bedroll. Kinsley, however, was a light sleeper and quickly stirred.
“Rest, rest,” Berthal said, motioning for Kinsley to remain still. “I’m not tired.”
“Mm,” Kinsley responded and yawned. “How was your walk?”
“Good,” Berthal said. He sat in the chair and fell silent in thought.
“What?” Kinsley asked, sitting up.
“We’re going to have to move soon.”
When Kinsley threw him a troubled look, Berthal continued. “Our three new recruits are most certainly spies for the Wizards of High Sorcery. They’re endangering the camp.”
Kinsley straightened, his fatigue gone in an instant. “You’re sure? Lorall and I can handle it, if you want.”
“No,” Berthal said. “I don’t want them killed. They’re still young.”
“Not Par-Salian.”
“He’s naive and that’s perhaps worse. I don’t want them harmed. They aren’t evil people … only misguided.”
“What about Tythonnia? She seems sympathetic.”
“I think she is,” Berthal replied. “We can sway her to our side.”
“Not the other two?”
“No,” Berthal said. “Par-Salian is a born and bred wizard. And Ladonna … well, given that she ransacked my tent earlier I don’t think she has much sympathy for our cause. Casting that spell on the
“And this has nothing to do with your interest in her?” Kinsley said. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. I know you like her.”
Berthal shrugged. “I suppose I do.”
“Lecherous old goat,” Kinsley said, resting his head again. “She’s young enough to be your daughter.”
“Says the man who has done his share of wooing daughters from their fathers.”
“Lies!” Kinsley said, throwing a finger high into the air. “Spread by my enemies.”
“Spread by your own mouth,” Berthal said.
The two men chuckled at their wit and let the fatigue overtake them.
The docks creaked beneath his feet and swayed with the urging of the shore waters, though that could have been the mead talking. Thrack was built like a stone tablet, from his frame to his dwarf constitution. He could drink the customers of any tavern along the docks under the table, though it took some of the fight out of him.
He staggered back to his keelboat, tugging on his braided beard as though trying to right himself. There was a woman and a large man in his way, looming over him. He lurched to the left, and they stepped in his path again.
Thrack looked up at them, not intimidated by the size of either of them, but he almost tipped over backward trying to see the big one’s face. They wore cloaks, like thieves, though the woman had an odd metal book strapped to her chest. Some people had the strangest notion of what constituted armor. Thrack guffawed.
“You are the shipmaster Thrack Greenstone,” the woman stated.
“Correct. I’m glad we cleared that up.” He tried to move past them again, but the big one stepped in his way.
“You smuggle people in and out of the city,” the woman continued.
“Perhaps. If I did, though, I’d have to charge double for the big one here.”
“I am looking for two women and a man, both injured. Where did you take them?”
“Don’t recall them …” He paused to count. “Three?”
“You will remember,” the woman said, unsheathing her thin, glowing sword. “Or you will die.”
“Will I now? Well, lass, I make my living on the ocean, something no sane dwarf would ever do without getting drunk enough to knock Reorx down with his breath. So death threats don’t work on me. Now if you wanted to threaten me with coins. Well, coins, I find downright frightening. Especially the bronze or steel ones. Very scary.”
The big human looked at the woman and shrugged. She seemed annoyed that she wasn’t going to be killing anyone that night and sheathed her blade before tossing him a small purse, which he barely caught.
“Take us where you took them,” the woman demanded.
CHAPTER 14
Another few days spent in the camp, and Tythonnia rarely saw Ladonna and Par-Salian. Those two seemed off in their own world, though Tythonnia grudgingly admitted she, too, was preoccupied. Her days were spent hunting, but finding food was growing more difficult and the hunters discussed the use of magic to draw their kills to them. The fact was, they’d thinned the local wildlife too quickly. They needed new hunting grounds.
In the afternoons, Tythonnia gutted and cleaned her kills, while the evening was reserved for the company of Berthal. Sometimes they were alone and sometimes they mingled in the company of others who seemed to accept her far more readily than they did her compatriots. She was never happier.
That night was no different. It was spent with Berthal as he related stories of his youth. She also spoke with Mariyah, whose personality seemed to blossom more each day.
When the fire pit began cooling, people took their cue to retire to their tents. Once again, Berthal and Tythonnia walked back to her campsite while taking a meandering, scenic path. It was as though they were both forestalling ending the night early. And they spoke with a comfortable familiarity that made mundane conversation enchanting. Still, Tythonnia couldn’t help but feel there was something on Berthal’s mind. She suspected what it might be, but eventually, curiosity drove her to ask.
By way of answer, Berthal urged her away from the encampment, her hand in his. It wasn’t until the country dark claimed them in shadows that he finally turned to her. He appeared to be considering something then, without warning, leaned over and kissed her.
Tythonnia broke away from the kiss. Her lips tingled with the heat of it, but her mind pulled her in a dozen different directions.
“I’m sorry,” Berthal said, pulling back. “I’ve overstepped my bounds. I thought-”
“No, no,” Tythonnia said, suddenly wishing she could take her hesitation back. Neither could she bring herself to step back into the kiss. She wanted to be attracted to him. She was, in fact, and that jarred with everything she’d come to believe about herself. Had she not burned away her old self? Was she not trying to embrace who she really was for the sake of magic?
The test, she thought and grew even more confused.
She shook her head, as if that might somehow shake her free of her doubts, and almost growled in frustration. “I do like you,” she stammered, “I do. I
“Then what’s the matter?” he asked.
Tythonnia suddenly felt terribly old, and that knocked the strength from her legs. She chose to sit down and was grateful when Berthal sat next to her. She leaned against him, and against every fear that screamed for her to shut her mouth, she told him about her test. It was a rare thing to divulge the intimate secrets of one’s test, for it always revealed a truth about who someone was, a truth so profound that it shook the one who passed the test
