time for jokes and mockery, sir,” Captain Ericson replied, waving a finger at Jack. If he wanted to, he could drag Jack down to the lockup for sass. Nathaniel was sorely tempted, even if Ericson wasn’t.
“I would never think to mock you fine men.” He erased his smile, crossed his arms, and tapped his foot.
“You are aware, I’m sure, of the problems facing the city since Constable Taylor’s untimely death,” Nathaniel cut in.
“I am, and I’m surprised you’ve found anyone to rally behind your cause. A lot of your men take Guild bribes.”
Nathaniel wanted to launch himself at the cocky man before him, but he shoved his fists into his pockets instead. It wouldn’t do any good to call more attention to their conversation. A Guild spy was probably watching from a nearby window already.
Ignoring him, Ericson plowed on, “You were connected to a Death Dealer. Whether he was the true hero or not is of no mind. Someone patrols these streets and has allied himself with Marcus’s ilk. I have it on good authority that you, in addition to knowing the Dealer, also do not work with the Thieves’ Guild. We want an audience with the Death Dealer.”
Jack tried to hide his emotions by turning his face back to the shadows, but Nathaniel saw uncertainty cross his features. The man’s shoulders slumped, cockiness forgotten for the moment. He could stand there and joke, but he did know the Death Dealer.
“And if the Dealer doesn’t wish to treat with you?”
“One meeting, Anders. One meeting and we will present our case. Will you arrange it?”
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try, but I would like to be there as well. I’ve heard a few people there,” he jerked his head toward the door of the Emerald, “say I am the Death Dealer. I’d like to halt that nonsense before I’m expected to ride through the countryside fighting bandits and what not.” He held out his hand for Ericson. “I make no promises beyond trying. It’s true that I owe no allegiance to Marcus, but I’m no lackey to you men, either. I am only a friend to your masked hero, and not a very good one since I’ve agreed to intervene on your behalf.”
Ericson shook Jack’s hand, followed by Nathaniel. The sergeant’s hand was callused and firm, and Jack gave it one good shake before withdrawing it. He searched Nathaniel’s face for a moment – looking for what, he didn’t know – before bidding the guards good night.
~*~*~
Grace woke before the sun. All night she dreamed of everlasting darkness, with but one beacon at the end. She walked toward it but never managed to get any closer. She felt old and tired as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Today was her day off from the Angel. The week’s end was a time for prayer, contemplation, and other things the temples said were needed to please the gods. Grace had one decent dress left from her days in House Arganis; green linen with gold velvet trim along the hem. She loved that dress.
Since coming to Glenbard, she hadn’t eaten as well as she did in the north. She never went hungry, but some days were leaner than others if the Angel’s business was slow. As a result, her beautiful dress didn’t fit the same as when it was first made. Nowadays there was extra fabric bunched around the chest and waist. She knew it didn’t look as lovely as it did in the house of her uncle, but she still loved the feel of the dress.
She hadn’t worn the dress since the midwinter’s festival to honor the moon goddess, Kamaria. It was a garment for special occasions, not weekly meditation in the temple district. However, after her dark dreams she wanted a reminder of her home. She dressed and slipped out of the secret door so as not to wake Mistress Fisher.
The temple district had three temples: the domed golden temple for Ciro, the steepled temple to Kamaria with the silver bell in the tower, and the plain and homely temple to the patron goddess of Glenbard, Diggery. Before
“I would never think to mock you fine men.” He erased his smile, crossed his arms, and tapped his foot.
“You are aware, I’m sure, of the problems facing the city since Constable Taylor’s untimely death,” Nathaniel cut in.
“I am, and I’m surprised you’ve found anyone to rally behind your cause. A lot of your men take Guild bribes.”
Nathaniel wanted to launch himself at the cocky man before him, but he shoved his fists into his pockets instead. It wouldn’t do any good to call more attention to their conversation. A Guild spy was probably watching from a nearby window already.
Ignoring him, Ericson plowed on, “You were connected to a Death Dealer. Whether he was the true hero or not is of no mind. Someone patrols these streets and has allied himself with Marcus’s ilk. I have it on good authority that you, in addition to knowing the Dealer, also do not work with the Thieves’ Guild. We want an audience with the Death Dealer.”
Jack tried to hide his emotions by turning his face back to the shadows, but Nathaniel saw uncertainty cross his features. The man’s shoulders slumped, cockiness forgotten for the moment. He could stand there and joke, but he did know the Death Dealer.
“And if the Dealer doesn’t wish to treat with you?”
“One meeting, Anders. One meeting and we will present our case. Will you arrange it?”
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try, but I would like to be there as well. I’ve heard a few people there,” he jerked his head toward the door of the Emerald, “say I am the Death Dealer. I’d like to halt that nonsense before I’m expected to ride through the countryside fighting bandits and what not.” He held out his hand for Ericson. “I make no promises beyond trying. It’s true that I owe no allegiance to Marcus, but I’m no lackey to you men, either. I am only a friend to your masked hero, and not a very good one since I’ve agreed to intervene on your behalf.”
Ericson shook Jack’s hand, followed by Nathaniel. The sergeant’s hand was callused and firm, and Jack gave it one good shake before withdrawing it. He searched Nathaniel’s face for a moment – looking for what, he didn’t know – before bidding the guards good night.
~*~*~
Grace woke before the sun. All night she dreamed of everlasting darkness, with but one beacon at the end. She walked toward it but never managed to get any closer. She felt old and tired as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Today was her day off from the Angel. The week’s end was a time for prayer, contemplation, and other things the temples said were needed to please the gods. Grace had one decent dress left from her days in House Arganis; green linen with gold velvet trim along the hem. She loved that dress.
Since coming to Glenbard, she hadn’t eaten as well as she did in the north. She never went hungry, but some days were leaner than others if the Angel’s business was slow. As a result, her beautiful dress didn’t fit the same as when it was first made. Nowadays there was extra fabric bunched around the chest and waist. She knew it didn’t look as lovely as it did in the house of her uncle, but she still loved the feel of the dress.
She hadn’t worn the dress since the midwinter’s festival to honor the moon goddess, Kamaria. It was a garment for special occasions, not weekly meditation in the temple district. However, after her dark dreams she wanted a reminder of her home. She dressed and slipped out of the secret door so as not to wake Mistress Fisher.
The temple district had three temples: the domed golden temple for Ciro, the steepled temple to Kamaria with the silver bell in the tower, and the plain and homely temple to the patron goddess of Glenbard, Diggery. Before
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