The Mysterious Coin

by James E. Wisher

  Yaz shook Randall’s hand. “It was, thank you. We’ll escort you home before resuming our search.”

  “No need,” Randall said. “Gerard and I can find our way back on our own. For what it’s worth, I wish you both the best of luck finding your families. If I can be of assistance, please, don’t hesitate to call on me. You’ll be welcome at my home anytime.”

  “I’ll run the wagon back to the tavern before we go,” Gerard said. He gave them a final nod and helped his master out of the warehouse.

  And once again they were on their own. At least they’d done some good and now they knew where to look next, more or less. Port Steel was the biggest city in the kingdom and Yaz seriously doubted the Slavers Guild was going to tell them where everyone was sold. Nevertheless, he felt more optimistic than any point since returning to the valley and finding everyone gone.

  “So, Port Steel next?” Silas asked. “Can’t say I’m too excited about it. A lot of bounty hunters work out of the city.”

  “It’s also home to the Scriveners Guild’s headquarters,” Yaz said. “I’m sure no one will be thrilled if they learn we’re there. Unfortunately, it’s our best lead. Before we go, there’s one more thing I want to do here.”

  The warehouse manager was still standing quietly off to one side, clearly hoping he’d been forgotten about. Pity for him he hadn’t been.

  Yaz walked over and leaned with one hand on the wall so his face was only inches from the manager’s. “Tell me where your boss lives.”

  Yaz, Brigid, and Silas stood across the street from a pleasant, two-story house in the city’s finest neighborhood. It was far enough away that they could barely smell the river. Judging by the silk-and-satin festooned locals, Yaz and his friends were woefully underdressed.

  “No guards,” Yaz said. “This Delmar guy must be confident no one is going to bother him.”

  The warehouse manager had been all too eager to tell them everything about his employer, or no doubt former employer considering how things had turned out with the prisoner. Apparently, Delmar owned a string of warehouses up and down the Wallowing River. Though he had no proof, Yaz suspected it was one of the Scaled Society’s main income sources. Business must not be very good if they resorted to extortion.

  “Are we going to kick the door down?” Silas asked. He sounded eager to give it a try.

  “I thought we might just knock,” Yaz said. “Specifically, I thought Brigid might knock. There’s a little peephole in the door. I figure a servant looking out and seeing a pretty blond rather than me or you, will be more likely to open up. Once the door’s open, the rest is easy.”

  “Knife to the throat and violent threats?” Silas asked.

  “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Yaz turned to Brigid. “You don’t mind being the bait, do you?”

  “Not at all. I wasn’t much help at the warehouse, so I’m glad to pitch in.”

  “That’s the spirit. Silas, do you want the dagger?”

  “Nope,” Silas said. “I’m not much good with a knife.”

  While Brigid ran her fingers through her matted hair and generally spruced herself up Yaz said, “Didn’t you train with weapons?”

  “The basics.” Silas shrugged. “My master taught me to throw lightning. He didn’t figure he needed to teach me to stab people too.”

  Yaz didn’t have an argument for that.

  “I can’t do much more without a bath and comb,” Brigid said.

  She had her hair smoothed and the snarls picked out. She always looked beautiful to Yaz, but he wouldn’t lie and claim she was at her best.

  “You look great.” He looked up and down the street. They were alone save for a couple strolling five doors down. “And don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you. We’ll go as soon as those two are out of sight.”

  Brigid watched the locals walking hand in hand and sighed. “Will we ever have a moment like that?”

  “Of course we will.” Yaz gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “When we’ve rescued our parents, gotten the bounties on our heads removed, and returned home, we can walk in the fields and watch your sheep graze.”

  “Assuming the dragons haven’t eaten them all,” Silas said.

  Yaz shot him a “not helping” glare. “The street’s clear. We need to go, now.”

  Brigid trotted across the street and stood directly in front of the door. Yaz took up position to the side opposite the hinges. He drew his dagger and nodded.

  She took a breath and knocked. Nothing happened for a moment, then the little slot opened. “May I help you, young lady?” a stiff, proper voice asked.

  “I have a message for Master Delmar. There’s been some trouble down by the river.”

  “I can relay the message,” the servant said.

  “The warehouse manager said I should tell no one but Delmar. He was adamant.”

  The servant sniffed. “That man has always had too high an opinion of himself. Very well. You may wait in the sitting room while I check if the master will see you.”

  The slot snapped shut and the door opened. The moment the way was clear Yaz reached out, clamped a hand on the servant’s arm, and pressed the knife to his ribs. He would have gone for the neck, but the man was nearly as tall as Yaz’s father though so gaunt he probably only weighed a hundred and fifty pounds.

  “Make a sound and I’ll drive this into your liver. It’s a painful way to die. Inside.”

  Using pressure from the dagger to force the servant back Yaz entered a parlor decorated with couches and a small table. A narrow staircase led up to the second floor. Brigid followed him in and Silas joined them a second later, closing the door behind him.

  “Where’s Delmar?” Yaz asked.

  When the servant didn’t speak, he pressed harder with the dagger. The tip pierced flesh and blood flowed. The tall man winced.

  “I’m willing to search the whole house if I have to,” Yaz said. “You can save me time and yourself pain if you answer my question.”

  “Jenkins?” a muffled voice called from upstairs. “Is everything okay? Who was at the door?”

  “Consider your answer carefully.” Yaz gave the dagger a twist.

  “A lost delivery boy, sir,” Jenkins said. “I gave him directions and sent him on his way.”

  “Well enough. Bring us up some tea, won’t you?”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “Well done,” Yaz said. “You get to continue breathing. Which room upstairs?”

  “The library, second door on your right.”

  “Silas, would you mind?” Yaz asked.

  The wizard put his hand on Jenkins’s should and darkness gathered under his fingers. A moment later Jenkins collapsed to the floor, still breathing, but in no position to cause them trouble.

  Yaz mounted the steps and took them two at a time. At the top, a hall branched left and right. He went to the right and stopped at the second door. It was slightly ajar and two soft voices murmured. Brigid and Silas stood a few feet behind him.

  They were as ready as they were going to be.

  Yaz pushed the door open and froze.

  Seated at the room’s sole table were a familiar pair. On the left was Master Robotham and on the right his friend from the inn. A big mystery clicked into place. Only one thing could explain why Robotham wasn’t in a slave collar.

  “It was you,” Yaz said.

  “Yaz, I can explain,” the former master of dragons said.

  Yaz didn’t really hear him though he registered the words in the back of his mind. “I thought maybe one of the squires sold the village out, they all had enough basic knowledge to dose some meat with dragon’s bane. But I should have known it was you. I didn’t want to believe a man I considered my friend would do something like that. A bit of sentimental stupidity on my part.”

  “Please, I can explain everything if you’ll let me.”

  “That’s good.” Yaz finally stepped into the room and marched over to the table. His grip on the dagger w
as so tight the handle dug into his palm. “If you tell me everything, I promise to make your death quick.”

  “Look here, young man,” Delmar said. “You can’t just walk into the home of one of Fort Kane’s most prominent citizens and start making threats. I’ll have you—”

  Yaz’s dagger came crashing down on Delmar’s left hand, severing the first three digits cleanly. Delmar whimpered and clutched his wrist.

  “You need to stop talking,” Yaz said. “Threats from a dead man mean nothing.”

  Delmar went as white as a trout’s belly and he clamped his jaw tight. A wise move on his part. Angry as he was, Yaz would have cut Delmar’s throat without a second thought. Behind him, Brigid and Silas appeared frozen by the strength of his rage.

  “Now, Master, tell me how it is you came to betray everything I ever cared about. The village took you in and gave you a place of honor and respect. No cruelty was directed at you, not that I’m aware of. Was it gold or did they have some other hold on you?”

  “I thought you knew me better than that.” The bastard had the nerve to sound disappointed. “I’m a member of the Scaled Society, Yaz, I always have been. I told you I came to Dragonspire Village to study the dragons, and that was true, as far as it went. I wanted to make sure they were well taken care of even if I couldn’t free them on my own. When the opportunity to see them set loose appeared, I had to take it. My only hesitation was you.”

  “Me? Now you’re going to tell me you cared what happened to me to win sympathy?”

  “Hardly. When Delmar told me their plans, I didn’t want you to get caught up in it. Of all the people I’d met in the village, you seemed the most likely to share my dedication to the dragons. In time, I thought I might even bring you into the society. I told Delmar I needed to consider his offer. When you told me later about your plans to leave the valley it made my decision easy. I encouraged you to go look for an egg to get you out of the way.”

  “I imagine you’re regretting that choice now. What about my father? I thought the two of you were friends.”

  “Yazguard was a good man, but he saw the dragons as little more than a resource for the village. He wasn’t ignorant or cruel like some of the riders, but he would never be brought around to our way of thinking. Too dedicated to the village. That’s all there is to it. On the appointed night, I dosed the dragons’ evening meal with dragon’s bane and saw them to sleep. The next thing I remember was waking on a flying ship.”

  “Flying ship?” Yaz’s disbelief came through loud and clear.

  Robotham nodded. “I couldn’t believe it either. The Dark Sages built three ships and fitted them with levitation stones. Where they found that many is beyond me and the cost must have been horrendous, but they did it. We flew to Port Steel where I disembarked and took my leave. What happened to the rest of the villagers I have no idea. I assume they were sold into slavery. Ironic, considering what they did to the dragons.”

  “Ironic? That’s all you can say?” The room seemed to tremble under the force of his rage.

  “That’s the end of my tale,” Robotham said. “I have no desire for further contact with the Dark Sages or to have anything to do with their schemes. The dragons are free. Nothing else matters to me. Whatever happens now, I have no regrets.”

  “When you get to hell, I hope that offers you comfort.” Yaz raised his dagger.

  Before he could drive it into the traitor’s neck, Brigid screamed, “Yaz!”

  He lowered the blade and looked at her. “What? Did you want to do it? I don’t mind if you kill the other one, but Robotham is mine.”

  “If you kill him in cold blood, you’re no better than he is.”

  Yaz cocked his head. “Do you really believe that or are you just saying what you think you’re supposed to?”

  “What?”

  “Robotham betrayed our people and sold them into slavery. According to Carttoom’s law, he didn’t even do anything illegal. Our village has no noble patron to plead our cause to the king. We’ve always stood on our own. If there is to be any justice for our parents, we must deliver it. I will deliver it.”

  Before she could offer another argument, Yaz lashed out and slashed his former master’s throat. He stared into the dying man’s eyes until the blood stopped gushing. He wanted the last thing Robotham saw to be Yaz’s hatred.

  Next he turned his attention to Delmar. He was every bit as responsible for what happened as Robotham and he would suffer the same fate.

  The man saw the look in Yaz’s eyes and knew his fate. Before delivering the final blow, Yaz flipped the dagger and offered it hilt first to Brigid. “You deserve justice as much as I do.”

  She just shook her head and looked away.

  Yaz wasn’t surprised, but he had to make the offer. He returned his attention to Delmar.

  “Please, I was only following my superior’s orders.” He looked from Brigid to Silas and finally back to Yaz. There was nothing either of them could have said to stop him. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yes, you are.” Yaz thrust the dagger into Delmar’s right eye, plunging it in up to the hilt. He twitched once and fell face first on the table.

  Yaz retrieved the weapon, cleaned it, and slipped it into his sheath. He’d finally taken a real step in the right direction.

  Epilogue

  Leonidas Black, once more comfortably ensconced in his office at the Dark Sages’ base, read the two messages sitting on his desk for the second time. It seemed both the parties he wanted detained had slipped through his agents’ fingers. To say this was a disappointment would be understating things by a considerable margin. He expected better of his overseers.

  One of them had died attempting to keep the ranger captive. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about any punishment. Melody, on the other hand, was looking at a demotion at least and a more permanent sanction at worst. She’d burned a valuable source of information and still failed to capture the group investigating his raid in Dragonspire Valley.

  He flicked the pages aside and vaporized them with a pulse from his ring. At least his own work was progressing well. As soon as they rested and re-equipped, Shade, Rondo, and Jax would be setting out for the third tower. Leonidas had high hopes for claiming it quickly. There was nothing in the western desert but scattered clans of nomads. They should be able to fly in, confirm the tower’s location and send word in a few days.

  Leonidas sighed and stretched. Yes, things were coming along nicely. Except for a few minor annoyances, his plans were right on schedule.

  Moz had been riding for three days when he came within sight of the border. Not that there was a bright, shining line separating Rend from Carttoom. What marked it was a series of forts set every hundred miles and manned by thirty scouts who patrolled the area for infiltrators. It wasn’t a foolproof system by any measure, but the scouts had enough skill to spot a large force. Moz should know, training them was his final task before retiring. A single person crossing the border was hardly a concern.

  In fact, there were three places designated as border crossings where people could enter Rend or leave for Carttoom as long as they registered with the border guards. Enough time had passed that there was even a little trade between the kingdoms, not much, but enough to be encouraging. Not that Moz held much hope of it lasting. The wars had been flaring up and dying down for three hundred years and he didn’t expect that to change minus major changes in one or the other country.

  He shook his head and nudged his horse into motion. He had more pressing matters than politics. He needed to find the Dark Sages’ base and learn what they were up to and how Ariel fit into those plans. He guided his mount down a narrow deer trail. The nearest fort had sent their patrols east today, so he should have a window to slip through unnoticed. And should he encounter a patrol, his ranger uniform should be enough to convince them he acted on the king’s orders. If they bothered to check, he’d be long gone before an answer arrived.

  Much as he enjoyed hanging around wi
th the kid, it was good to be out on his own again. This was where he belonged. This was where he could do some good.

  Three days resting and getting their strength back at Randall’s manor did Yaz a world of good. Ever since he killed his former master—he couldn’t bring himself to think of the man by name—Brigid had been looking at him differently. She didn’t hate him, at least he hoped she didn’t, but there was definitely something between them now. Much as he disliked that new distance, Yaz couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d done. If Yaz had the power, he’d have struck down in an instant everyone that had anything to do with taking his parents away. He didn’t, more’s the pity, so he’d have to hunt them down one at a time.

  He packed the last of his gear, slung his saddle bag over his shoulder, and took up his new staff. It wasn’t ironwood, but oak was a fair substitute. He felt better having it in hand and the staff wouldn’t attract attention the way their spears did. Brigid was happy to have hers as well. They’d gotten lucky when Randall offered them access to his armory.

  He sighed. It would be a shame to leave the fine accommodations Randall had provided. The merchant had given them each a private room nicer than any inn they’d stayed at. The feather bed was especially welcome given how little sleep Yaz had gotten over the last few weeks. Still, comfortable or not, he wouldn’t find his parents holed up here. It was time to move on. Port Steel was waiting and Yaz meant to pry answers out of it, one way or another.

  Satisfied that he had everything, Yaz stepped out into the hall and nearly ran Silas over. The wizard had his own bag tucked under his arm and Wicked flew at his shoulder. He had on his comfortable, worn traveling gear. They’d packed away the mercenary outfits for now. No one had seen any wanted signs since leaving the City of Bells so hopefully word hadn’t reached this far yet.

  Randall had offered to contact the Scriveners Guild but held out little hope of changing their minds given how little influence he had over them. Yaz appreciated the effort even if it yielded no results.