licking flames.
Quinlan tilted his head, thinking Terrance was not the typical homeless vagabond. “Where are you from?” he asked.
Terrance closed his eyes. “So many places I can’t remember, but the castle of Ironheart was my last place of duty.”
“You’re a proper man, Terrance,” Quinlan said. “What’s happened to you?”
Terrance hesitated a long while.
“I was betrayed,” he finally said. He tried to take a deep breath, but a coughing fit cut it short. By the time he stopped coughing, he looked ready to fall over from complete exhaustion.
“Come, Terrance.” Quinlan helped the man to his feet. “I’ve a room for you upstairs.”
Terrance leaned into Quinlan’s strength. “Thank you,” he whispered.
That night, Quinlan slept peacefully for the first time in many weeks. The following morning, he awoke to a window full of sunshine, ready for another day’s journey.
He checked in on Terrance and was pleased to see the man sleeping soundly. After paying for a couple of meals and another night’s stay for Terrance, he left instructions for the innkeeper to check in on Terrance once he left. Then he found a table near the door of the inn, settled into a worn wooden chair, and ordered breakfast.
He was leaning across the table to swat at a fly when something hard pressed against his ribs. He reached inside a pocket in his doublet, then froze when his fingers found the source of the discomfort—something that confused, saddened, and excited him all at the same time.
He slowly pulled the object from his doublet.
THE CRYSTAL COIN
Quinlan fingered the medallion and marveled once again at its beauty. As he lifted it closer to his eyes, the broken silver chain fell to the table. He returned the chain to his pocket but kept the disk out for further inspection.
Until now, the medallion had been difficult for Quinlan even to look at because it was a reminder of Sir Baylor and the last few moments of his life. Now, with some time between him and that dreadful day, Quinlan began to inspect the masterful work of art with a different perspective. At close range, it looked like … a crystal coin.
The outer rim was silver, with an inlaid gold design that gleamed in the light of the nearby lanterns. The inner disk was colorless crystal with prism cuts around the edge and a flat, clear center. Quinlan looked through it and realized the image beneath was slightly magnified.
Why did Sir Baylor give this to me?
Quinlan wondered.
What was so important about it that he spent the last few moments of his life making sure he gave it to someone?
Quinlan placed his thumb beneath the edge and flipped the coin into the air. He watched as the light of the inn lanterns streamed through the crystal in a moving arc of brilliant color. Quinlan flipped the coin a few more times, varying the speed at which the coin rotated, mesmerized by the colorful effect.
Two men entered the inn, walked to the table in the far corner, and sat down. One of them wore a hood pulled over his head. The otherlooked nervously from table to table, and Quinlan could tell some shady deal was in the making—an arrangement to trade illegal goods or perhaps a weapons and arms deal. Either way, there was nothing Quinlan could do about it. He had been reduced to a spectator in a kingdom full of contradiction.
He scanned the inn’s tables once more without looking or thinking about anything in particular. The hooded man was now leaning forward, pointing a finger at his tablemate.
Quinlan flipped the crystal coin in the air once more. It slowly turned end over end, flying to the exact height of Quinlan’s right eye and intersecting his line of sight to the men in the corner. As the coin completed one rotation, his gaze passed through the aligned glass of the crystal coin. In that one brief instant, Quinlan saw something that made the hair on his neck stand up. A faint aura of green light emanated from the body of the hooded man.
Quinlan
Quinlan tilted his head, thinking Terrance was not the typical homeless vagabond. “Where are you from?” he asked.
Terrance closed his eyes. “So many places I can’t remember, but the castle of Ironheart was my last place of duty.”
“You’re a proper man, Terrance,” Quinlan said. “What’s happened to you?”
Terrance hesitated a long while.
“I was betrayed,” he finally said. He tried to take a deep breath, but a coughing fit cut it short. By the time he stopped coughing, he looked ready to fall over from complete exhaustion.
“Come, Terrance.” Quinlan helped the man to his feet. “I’ve a room for you upstairs.”
Terrance leaned into Quinlan’s strength. “Thank you,” he whispered.
That night, Quinlan slept peacefully for the first time in many weeks. The following morning, he awoke to a window full of sunshine, ready for another day’s journey.
He checked in on Terrance and was pleased to see the man sleeping soundly. After paying for a couple of meals and another night’s stay for Terrance, he left instructions for the innkeeper to check in on Terrance once he left. Then he found a table near the door of the inn, settled into a worn wooden chair, and ordered breakfast.
He was leaning across the table to swat at a fly when something hard pressed against his ribs. He reached inside a pocket in his doublet, then froze when his fingers found the source of the discomfort—something that confused, saddened, and excited him all at the same time.
He slowly pulled the object from his doublet.
THE CRYSTAL COIN
Quinlan fingered the medallion and marveled once again at its beauty. As he lifted it closer to his eyes, the broken silver chain fell to the table. He returned the chain to his pocket but kept the disk out for further inspection.
Until now, the medallion had been difficult for Quinlan even to look at because it was a reminder of Sir Baylor and the last few moments of his life. Now, with some time between him and that dreadful day, Quinlan began to inspect the masterful work of art with a different perspective. At close range, it looked like … a crystal coin.
The outer rim was silver, with an inlaid gold design that gleamed in the light of the nearby lanterns. The inner disk was colorless crystal with prism cuts around the edge and a flat, clear center. Quinlan looked through it and realized the image beneath was slightly magnified.
Why did Sir Baylor give this to me?
Quinlan wondered.
What was so important about it that he spent the last few moments of his life making sure he gave it to someone?
Quinlan placed his thumb beneath the edge and flipped the coin into the air. He watched as the light of the inn lanterns streamed through the crystal in a moving arc of brilliant color. Quinlan flipped the coin a few more times, varying the speed at which the coin rotated, mesmerized by the colorful effect.
Two men entered the inn, walked to the table in the far corner, and sat down. One of them wore a hood pulled over his head. The otherlooked nervously from table to table, and Quinlan could tell some shady deal was in the making—an arrangement to trade illegal goods or perhaps a weapons and arms deal. Either way, there was nothing Quinlan could do about it. He had been reduced to a spectator in a kingdom full of contradiction.
He scanned the inn’s tables once more without looking or thinking about anything in particular. The hooded man was now leaning forward, pointing a finger at his tablemate.
Quinlan flipped the crystal coin in the air once more. It slowly turned end over end, flying to the exact height of Quinlan’s right eye and intersecting his line of sight to the men in the corner. As the coin completed one rotation, his gaze passed through the aligned glass of the crystal coin. In that one brief instant, Quinlan saw something that made the hair on his neck stand up. A faint aura of green light emanated from the body of the hooded man.
Quinlan
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