Before she could continue, Morwen’s mare tore free of her grip. The horse reared without warning and knocked a woman in a hooded cloak to the road.
Horrified, Morwen calmed the horse with her touch and ran over to help the traveler up. “Are you alright?”
The young woman stumbled and put her arms around Morwen for support. Her lower face was concealed by a scarf. “I think so.” Her eyes were the deepest shade of blue Berengar had ever seen.
There was something pure about her voice, and Berengar felt a sense of warmth when she spoke. Faolán, usually wary of strangers, sat on her haunches and stared at the woman with a vacant expression, as if under a spell. Her behavior reminded him of how she had acted when she first met Morwen.
“Are you sure?” Morwen held out a hand to steady her.
“No harm done.” The stranger dusted herself off and started on her way.
Morwen turned back to her horse and stroked the mare’s muzzle. “Nessa, what’s gotten into you?” She shook her head and glanced at Berengar. “She’s normally more even-tempered than this.” She started to speak but stopped suddenly and reached into her satchel. “The thunder rune—it’s gone.”
Berengar peered into the crowd, where the hooded woman had almost disappeared from sight. “I think your new friend is a member of the Brotherhood of Thieves.”
When the woman glanced over her shoulder and saw them staring, she broke into a sprint.
“What was that you were saying about handling yourself?”
Morwen glared at him and took off running. “Shut up. We can’t let her escape.”
The dense crowd was too difficult to navigate on horseback, so Berengar let go of his horse’s reins and followed on foot.
“After her!” Morwen shouted to Faolán.
Faolán bolted forward and outpaced them both. Fellow travelers cleared out of the way at the sight of the wolfhound racing toward them. The young woman attempted to lose them in the crowd, but Faolán barked loudly to alert them to the thief’s presence.
“There she is!” Morwen yelled. “Don’t let her get away!”
Berengar shoved two men out of his way. Ahead, the thief weaved and dodged through the crowd, avoiding collisions with others while maintaining her speed. Whoever she is, she’s fast.
With Faolán at her heels, the thief leapt over the side of a footbridge. Berengar reached the bridge just in time to see her hit the ground below and execute a perfectly timed roll that put her back on her feet. It was at least a twelve-foot drop.
“She’s headed to the market!” Morwen called over her shoulder. “Come on.”
Berenger swore and hurried down a nearby staircase. The city’s expansive market made that of Kilcullen seem insignificant in comparison. Banners of various colors and shapes, announcing all manner of goods and services, rippled in the wind. People were everywhere. It would be easy for the thief to lose them in such a crowded place.
He quickened his pace and kept the thief within his line of sight. She deftly spun away from a woman with a wash bucket and gave it enough of a nudge with her fingers to spill its contents over the road. Morwen slipped and lost her balance, and Berengar pushed past her, inadvertently knocking over an apple cart in his effort to keep up. The thief jumped over a passing herd of sheep that blocked his path, and as Berengar tried to get around them, he spotted a group of bored-looking guards on patrol nearby.
“Stop, thief!”
The guards instantly took note of the young woman, who deftly evaded them, leapt onto the back of a moving carriage, and jumped off in front of an alleyway.
Berengar pulled Morwen to her feet. “You go after her. I’ll go around to the other side and we’ll trap her in the middle.” The long alley contained a single outlet, and unlike the vast network of alleyways in other parts of the city, it was easy to see where it ended.
“With pleasure.” Morwen rushed into the alley with Faolán close behind.
Berengar reached for the dagger in his boot, hurried around the building, and slipped into the alley’s shadowy interior. He heard footsteps coming his way and readied the blade, only to stay his hand at the last moment when Morwen appeared around the corner.
“You let her get past you?”
“Of course not. There’s no way she could have reached the end before I got there.”
“If you didn’t see her and I didn’t see her, the only way she could have escaped…” Morwen trailed off, and Berengar followed her gaze up the side of the building. “But that’s impossible.” It was as if the thief had vanished into thin air.
“It doesn’t matter. She’s gone.” Berengar put the dagger away and stormed off. “We’ve lost the rune.”
Their horses were gone too, as it turned out—most likely stolen. They had been in Dún Aulin all of half an hour and already they’d lost the rune, both their mounts, and the supplies in their saddlebags. He wasn’t in a pleasant mood.
Morwen checked her satchel to make sure nothing else was missing. “How did they find us so quickly?”
“The Brotherhood of Thieves knows everything that happens in this city. They probably knew we were here from the moment we set foot inside the gates.” At least they didn’t take her satchel. If the wrong people discovered Morwen in possession of spellbooks, runes, and potions, they might attempt to have her tried as a witch. Berengar would kill every man in the city before he let that happen.
Despite his intent not to get involved with the Brotherhood, it seemed trouble had found them anyway. If the Brotherhood didn’t already know about their involvement with Ryland and the thwarted sale of the thunder rune, they would soon. After the business with Calum and the coatl egg, it was unlikely they would look favorably upon a second slight.
“Nessa was a gift from my father. I’m not leaving without her.”
Berengar didn’t bother arguing. There was little anyone could do to sway her once she made up her mind. It was one of the few traits they had in common. “We’ll find her. Come on.”
They followed the main road farther into the city. Like Cashel, Dún Aulin had been built at high elevation for defensive purposes. The city had expanded outward over the centuries as its population grew, but most of the older, central parts of the city were still made of stone. The differences between the districts were more pronounced than when Berengar was sent to quell the riots, and clear class distinctions were evident between neighborhoods.
The nobility, priesthood, and wealthiest citizens occupied the highest position in the city’s social structure. Beneath them were an extensive middle class of merchants, soldiers and guards, craftsmen, and many more. The trades had guilds of their own, and the strict laws and regulations imposed by the church had simply driven many businesses underground. At the bottom rung were a great number of the dispossessed, who lived in cramped slums in less affluent city districts. Starvation and disease were common among the poor, who mostly depended upon the benevolence of the church to meet their earthly needs. For all the corruption in the church, there were many true believers like Friar Godfrey who gave generously to help those in need.
Morwen glanced around. “Where are we going?”
“To the grand square. I want to have a little talk with the city watch.”
“I thought you said the guards were in the Brotherhood’s pocket.”
“Even the Brotherhood’s influence has its limits. Besides, there are more than a few in the watch who owe me their lives. The mobs killed guards by the dozens during the riots.”
It was a long walk without their horses, but Berengar was accustomed to traveling great distances on foot. Dún Aulin buzzed with excitement over the Revels and the Ceremony of the Cursed Blade. The teeming masses impeded their progress through the city. After almost an hour, they reached the looming walls of Padraig’s Gate and passed under a tall triangular arch to enter the grand square, arguably the city’s most influential district.
The royal palace and the great cathedral—symbols of the twin pillars o
f Leinster’s government—were both visible from the square. Inner walls and a plethora of guards were meant to keep unsavory elements at bay, though the square appeared nearly as busy as the rest of the city. The buildings were taller and more imposing than their counterparts elsewhere, and scores of statues depicted storied characters from history and myth. The trees, grass, and flowers that grew in centrally located road verges represented the final remnants of the old forest long ago cleared away to allow for the city’s expansion.
Berengar ignored the crowd of nobles, religious leaders, and government officials and followed the sound of an elaborately dressed bellman to a place where notices were posted along a section of wall. There were also a number of bounties naming rewards for the death or capture of human criminals and monsters. Most bounties for monsters were for goblins, though one in particular stood out among the others.
“Azura,” Morwen read. “The last fairy.” The bounty depicted an artist’s rendering of a blue-skinned woman with dark hair, pointy teeth and ears, and solid violet eyes. Unlike the rewards of silver listed for the goblins, the bounty promised considerable gold for information leading to Azura’s capture. “Do you think she’s really here in Dún Aulin?”
Berengar shook his head. “She’s probably just a myth. There are no more fairies left in Leinster.” He grabbed another bounty and tore it free of the nail where it was posted. “Does this goblin look familiar to you?”
Morwen’s gaze ran over the goblin’s image. “It looks like the goblin that attacked me in the Wrenwood.” The rendering depicted the same helmet worn by the goblin that had attempted to steal the stone from Morwen.
“I thought the same. According to this, it’s the mercenaries’ leader.” It almost seemed fitting that they had lost the thunder rune now that they finally had a lead on the goblins. Berengar turned his attention to the bellman. “I’m looking for a man named Tavish. I’m told he commands the city watch.”
The bellman tipped his tricorne hat at Morwen, who stifled a giggle. “Look no further. Here he comes now.” As the bellman spoke, a middle-aged man in uniform flanked by guards began nailing another bounty to the wall. “It seems you are in luck, good sir.”
Given how his day had gone so far, Berengar was skeptical, though he was at least grateful he didn’t have to waste even more time in search of Tavish. “You there—I’d like a word.”
Tavish took one look at Berengar and swore before noticing Morwen. “Forgive me. Something else to confess on the holy day.”
“I’ve heard worse.” Morwen stifled a giggle.
Tavish glanced from Morwen to Berengar. “If you’re traveling in his company, I bet you have.” He let out the exasperated sigh of a man weary beyond his years. “You’re not supposed to be here, you know. The last thing I need right now is the Bear Warden stirring up trouble. I’ve got my hands full enough as it is with the Revels, security for the ceremony, and the fairy dust epidemic.”
Morwen raised an eyebrow. “Fairy dust?”
“Aye. Stuff’s worth its weight in gold. Some people will do almost anything for a taste of real magic, but they don’t have any control over it.”
“Of course they don’t.” Her alarm was evident. “Even a fully trained magician can have difficulty using fairy dust. It’s far too dangerous to sell to ordinary people.”
“We’ve had deaths all across the city. One poor sod thought he could fly and threw himself off Labraid’s Tower. Took hours to clean him off the street. Another fellow went invisible and broke into the vaults of Gemstones only to reappear in front of the guards. Until we find whoever’s supplying the dust, the problem is only going to get worse. And now I have to deal with the Bloody Red Bear.”
Berengar smirked. “The sooner you help us, the sooner I’ll be gone.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
One of the men under Tavish’s command stared at Berengar with clear disdain. “I saw the bodies you left in your wake the last time you were here. You’re every bit the monster they say you are. Your kind has no place in this city.” Some of his companions murmured in agreement.
Berengar took a step forward. “I saved this city while you and your friends were still in swaddling clothes.”
“You butchered men like cattle.”
“I did what I had to, and I’d do it again.”
For a moment, it looked as if the man might reach for the sword at his side until Tavish held up a hand.
“Stand down—all of you. That’s an order.” He took Berengar and Morwen aside. “I haven’t forgotten. I was in the guard when the riots broke out. I saw the corpses stacked at the gate. What do you need?”
“The Brotherhood of Thieves took something that belongs to us. We want it back.”
Tavish chuckled but broke off abruptly when he noticed the look on Berengar’s face. “Good luck. I’ve been trying to run the Brotherhood out of the city for years, and they’ve only grown stronger. Half the guards are in their pocket, and the rest would rather look the other way than get involved. Tell me what it is they’ve taken and I’ll put the word out, for all the good it will do.”
Berengar quickly relayed the details, along with a description of the thief, to Tavish. “There’s something else. We tracked a group of goblin mercenaries who were after the rune.” He removed the folded-up bounty from inside his cloak and held it out. “I think this was their leader.”
Tavish pointed at the goblin illustration. “Teelah the Strong-Willed. A bold one. This one single-handedly killed an entire band of monster hunters. Some of my scouts have encountered the lot and barely made it out with their lives intact. Nasty bunch, just like the rest of their kind.”
Berengar elbowed Morwen to keep her from speaking out in protest. “Do you know who the goblins are working for or where we might find them?”
Tavish stroked his beard. “I believe they’ve been spotted near the Elderwood on more than one occasion, though I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything more specific than that. A fair number of nonhumans have taken refuge within the forest, and there have been a lot of strange happenings in the area lately.”
“What sort of happenings?”
“Soldiers have disappeared at the border, and monster sightings have increased. The villagers nearby believe magic is involved. They say a man in a mask spreads pestilence and disease and calls forth dark powers. Rumors, most likely, but one of my scouts claims to have seen him too. Poor lad returned half-crazed. If you ask me, the sooner we raze that cursed forest to the ground, the better.”
Anger flashed in Morwen’s eyes, and she put her hands on her hips. “Is that so?”
Berengar gave her a warning look. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Wait,” Tavish called when he turned to go. “A word of advice—do what you need to and be on your way. This city is dangerous for you and any who walk with you. I’ll help you as I’m able, but you have powerful enemies here. Watch your step.”
Berengar offered a grim nod and returned to the road.
They didn’t get far. A messenger waited for them under the arch. “I have a letter for you, Warden Berengar.”
Berengar groaned. Word of his presence in the city had spread even faster than he anticipated. “Who sent you?”
The messenger extended a sealed envelope by way of reply. Berengar opened the letter and quickly scanned its contents.
Morwen handed the man a coin, and he promptly disappeared into the crowd. “What does it say?”
“It’s from an old friend,” Berengar muttered. “He wants to talk.”
“Who?”
He showed her the message.
Berengar,
Meet me tonight at the Coin and Crown. The matter is urgent.
Tell no one.
Niall, Warden of Fál
Chapter Four
“What’s he like? Warden Niall, I mean.”
Foreboding clouds drowned out the sky’s pale light. Berengar didn’t need Morwen’s magician’s senses
to know another storm was brewing. Blasted weather. He hated Leinster. The sooner they were finished, the better. Unfortunately, the theft of the thunder rune and Niall’s mysterious request only complicated matters further. As if we didn’t have enough to worry about already. Still, Niall wouldn’t have asked to see him on such short notice unless it was about something serious.
“He’s clever, I’ll give him that. A little too sure of himself. You two should get along just fine.”
Morwen flashed a wide smile. “I like him already. You know, for all your talk about walking alone, you have more friends than you let on.”
“If it were up to me, I’d be left alone. It’s not my fault people keep dragging me into their problems.” He cast a glance in her direction. “What’s your point?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know why everyone is so afraid of you. Sure, you have a bit of a temper and you’re too quick to reach for your axe, but you’re not so bad.”
Berengar laughed quietly. “For the daughter of a poet king, you have quite a way with words.” His expression turned serious. “Make no mistake, I’ve hurt as many people as I’ve helped—probably more. I’ve done things that would make your blood run cold.”
Morwen rolled her eyes. “You also rescued me from the mob at Innisfallen and saved Cashel from destruction. You know what your problem is? You’re too hard on yourself. Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe you’re not the monster everyone seems to think you are? Maybe you’re the hero.”
Berengar didn’t reply. He knew exactly what he was, and he was no hero. Morwen always wanted to find the good in everyone, even when there was none to be found. She hadn’t seen the horrors he left behind at the Fortress of Suffering or the men he butchered at Laird McAuliffe’s table. Dún Aulin itself was a living reminder of the kind of man he was. There was a reason why men called him the High Queen’s Monster, even if most were careful to do it behind his back.
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