If our dwarven guide is surprised to see us return to camp, she does not show it. Even though no other group who went into the mountain came out again. That she did not expect us is evident from the small fire and the equally small portion of stew that she has made.
While building up the fire and setting up a larger pot for our meal, I ask, ‘Do you not have any curiosity, as to why my friends and I are free?’
‘Some. I suppose.’
‘What then, stirs your soul? When passionate, what is your goal?’
For some time she says nothing, only eats her meal and watches me go about my preparations and I think she will not reply at all. Though, at last, she does.
‘Silver broaches. And one above all. One at Thradgull’s silversmith. A masterwork, you hear me?’ Her glance is urgent, as if I was set to dispute her judgement. ‘There’s a dragon on top, see, alert like a lizard, on top of a pile of coins. Thradgull wants fifty silver pieces for the broach.’ She takes a deep breath and sighs, her voice dropping an octave, ‘I have to admit the price is fair. The king himself might wear a broach like that. But I only have nine coins saved. Someone else will buy that beauty long before I have fifty silver pieces.’
I come closer to the dwarf, to see glints of tears in her deep-lined face. I don’t even know our guide’s name but for some reason I am filled with empathy for her. While the gods battle and rulers march armies across the Twenty-Five Kingdoms, our guide has concerns in her hometown, concerns that matter as much to her as the great game does to a king. And is it wrong to be passionate about a well-crafted, silver broach?
After our meal, I go early to my tent and blanket, mostly for the pleasure of deciding upon my new skill choices. Firstly, before I can persuade myself otherwise, I put one of my five points into Dance. Such an indulgence. And not a skill that can be justified in any way other than this: it is a happy Crow who daydreams of being the dance partner that Belle deserves. And a happy Crow is more likely to save Nekis than a glum one.
Looking at the tantalising list of available skills from my previous level gains, I want them all, of course. The ones that most appeal to me, however, are Pickpocket and Forgery. These will complement my Disguise 10 skill and might allow me to access to well-guarded areas, ones impossible to breach with Stealth. Then too, for the combat in the arena of Northway, which I must face one day, I might need a ranged weapon, so Wield Shortbow has to be high on my list. Crow the archer. It suits me. I can imagine running along a rooftop, releasing arrows with great accuracy having maximised my shortbow skill. Oh, yes. Jaunty at this prospect, I go ahead and select Wield Shortbow, leaving me with three points to spend and a strong desire to buy a shortbow.
What new options have I unlocked? Quick Draw brings a weapon from its sheath into my hand in an instant; Avoid Ambush allows me to anticipate surprise enemy attacks; Blurred Targeting makes me harder to strike with ranged attacks.
And then there is a new magical skill: Shadow Step.
Shadow Step: requirements, Stealth 10, Mana 5.
At the cost of 5 mana, the rogue can step into a shadow and so long as it is continuous, step out of it at any point up to a distance of ten metres per level of the skill.
There is something about magic that thrills me. To be a conduit for that sparkling flow of energy which accompanies the use of a magical skill is to feel my feathers being ruffled in an ecstatic way. For the few seconds that my mana is flowing, I feel connected to a universe that surrounds us with incandescent energy, but which is hidden from us except when we touch it. It is fortunate that such touches are always brief. To bathe in magic for long would be to dissolve oneself entirely into the silver energy that underlies the world.
Always the magical skills are those that I want. And this one is justified by its versatility. More, the fact that of all the rogues in the Twenty-Five Kingdoms I am uniquely able to create a large mana pool means I would be a fool not to obtain all the magic skills I can. So I select Shadow Step and also make it my afk skill. To be able to step five metres through shadow is impressive. If I could step fifty metres though, that would be a real power.
With my last two available skill points I return to my contemplation of Pickpocket and Forgery and select them. Interesting as the other options are, I have to plan for all the possible ways in which a dragon’s tooth might be protected. Deceit could be more of a weapon than my new +1 rapier, my share of the loot from the bodies of the dead adventurers.
My skill menu is a marvel to study.
My intuition is that Shadow Step is a skill of considerable importance. Were I to master being able to step in and out of shadows at large distances, I would be both safer, more difficult to attack, and more dangerous.
Closing all the menus, I pull my blanket up to my shoulder and hope that while I dream, my new skill will level up.
*
After detouring back to the cave with the dragon’s tooth, which Amaris, understandably, insisted upon collecting for himself, we decide not to return to the dwarven capital of Kadunskil but walk westwards towards the border with Sartas, the land of the bird-people. To the disappointment of our dwarven guide, we let her go; we have no further work for her as if we are successful in Sartas we will go north to Cantreth. All the same, when she is out of sight of the others, I use Stealth to slip away from my group and hurry to catch up with her.
‘Wait. Here, have these.’ I pass over the jade-handled knife and silver mirror I stole from Amaris when we were his prisoners in the barn. It is dangerous to keep them, but for some reason I did not want to return them to the assassin. The night I gained them was the night he would have killed me.
The young dwarf blinks and glances at me for a brief moment. ‘Why so much?’
‘For your silence. We are entertainers. Best not mention we also collected a dragon’s tooth.’
She nods.
‘And also for your broach. Is this enough?’
‘They should be. With a bit of bargaining. The mirror is well made, a proper silversmith did that. Elven? Inferni?’ Suddenly, she walks briskly up to me and wraps her arms around my waist. ‘Thank you.’
Unexpectedly wide, with teeth displayed in what might be interpreted as a contorted expression of imminent violence, the sight of our guide’s mouth only conveyed happiness due to it being accompanimed by eager, soul-warmed eyes. Alarming is the smile of a dwarf.
Shycrow, I detach myself from the embrace and salute the dwarf before leaving her, telling myself that even in the most dour and inexpressive people surge passions like roaring seas.
Over the next three days we travel along a path by a stream that flows through a valley filled with pine trees. These are merry days for me, ones in which my new skill rises to Level 4 and I practice stepping into shadows and stepping out of them at a distance. So long as I use Stealth and take care to choose my moment, I can keep this ability secret, above all from the assassin.
My friends are all cheerful too. After all, the weather is good – bright spring skies; birds finding their mates – and we have a shared sense of accomplishment. At Lisandra’s suggestion we agree that we will spend some of our coin on hiring one of the bird-people to try to bring a report on our progress back to Nekis. Perhaps our people will be in need of some encouragement. I am sure that if the news that I am alive reaches Crumblin, it will bring a happy tear to the eyes of Mistress Withen, while Cathaldus might manage a grunt of approval.
The border from Grimlar to Sartas is a stone bridge, with a high arch, like that of a caterpillar when it gathers itself to move. Beneath the bridge is a narrow, dark river. On our side of it is a sturdy, stone guard-post, just ten metres tall but the narrow windows indicate it has two levels. I would have to crouch while I was inside such a small fort. There are four dwarves here, armoured, interested only in collecting a tax from us. Whether this was for the use of the bridge or some kind of fee for leaving the realm, their taciturn officer did not make clear, but we paid without argument.
On the far side of the bridge was a sign with large, black writing: You are not welcome in Sartas. If you have business here then enter but know we are always watching you.
‘Friendly,’ says Lisandra, amused.
‘I hate them,’ Amaris raises his voice, looking around at the treelines on either side of the path. ‘One day, an army from the Underworld will come here and burn all their towns.’
The aggression in the assassin causes my good humour to fall away. Do we really need him? Probably. At least until after collecting the dragon’s tooth from Underworld. This journey, however, would be more pleasant without Amaris. Always ready to laugh, Lisandra’s company is a joy. Belle and Aarax too are cheerful by nature and talkative. Walking alongside them for long distances feels effortless. Even Gerard has a sense of humour, albeit a mocking one. Amaris, though, is misery on two legs and treats me with particular hostility. There will come a day when we fight, of this I’m sure, and to travel with such a person is to travel with a weight upon my back.
As for Lady Horsta, she says little that isn’t concerned with the necessities of our journey. Withdrawn and unhappy, she tends to walk somewhat apart from us and in silence. Where do her loyalties lie now? The fact that she is angry with Amaris for running away from the dwarf caves – even though, as he quite rightly pointed out, it was I who shouted at everyone to do so – makes me wonder if the paladin now favours me over the assassin. Does the fall of Southway mean that her realm’s alliance with Underworld is broken? Is she free to decide who she wants to support? If so, and if the fall of the Arkine Empire is her goal, then she would be better aligned with me, not Amaris. I’ve one more dragon tooth than the assassin. And what’s more, I came back for her when she was in prison.
To cheer myself up, I hurry on to walk beside Belle. Our path is a cart-track: two brown lines of mud through green grass and spring flowers. On either side, the treeline of a great forest begins some fifty metres away. The trees here are mostly oak, ash and hazel, with some silver birch too and less common trees like the willow, and juniper, cherry. With buds only just appearing on their branches the cherry trees are months away from bearing fruit, which is a shame. The same walk in late summer would be a delicious one and just the thought of a ripe cherry was causing my mouth to moisten.
‘Are they really watching Crow?’ asks Belle.
Even with my Spot Hidden at 7 it takes me a long, careful look at the trees nearby before I spot a birdperson, high, standing beside the trunk of a tall oak, wings folded. Proud-eyed, sharp-beaked he wears a bandolier over a garment like a pale-green apron. His only weapons seem to be his claws. And having seen this one, my mind makes an adjustment and I am aware of a dozen more in the heights of the treetops, some with spears and bows.
‘They really are.’
This is intriguing. I'm beginning to get the idea. Fantastic imagery