Chapter 14

Northmarket District, Oldtown

Before he left the vampire’s house, Quinn checked his disguise. He’d used it before on previous missions for the troll women. Laborer woodworkers toiled in every part of Oldtown. Dirty canvas trousers, a coarse faded wool shirt and a scarlet kerchief around his neck that advertised his membership in the woodworker’s guild. He slung his tool bag over one shoulder and left by way of the servant’s entrance, like any other tradesman.

Outside, he found the narrow alleyway swarming with beings, many of them children working alongside adults. There were no child labor laws in Oldtown. He paused, attuning himself to the rhythm of life here. His face had a slight smile, but his constantly moving eyes were sharply alert. Klzyx and little Clover were sitting off to one side, placed where they could keep an eye out for him. The little goblin was demonstrating a complicated finger exercise using six round pebbles. Designed to keep the fingers strong and flexible, he had obviously mastered the advanced katas because the pebbles appeared to flow around his nimble fingers in a fascinating blur.

“I’m impressed my friend, I was never able to get the God’s Greeting down and here you are doing it like it was as simple as falling off a wagon.”

Klzyx’s hairy ears stuck straight up with embarrassed pleasure. Praise in his life was rare.

“Thank you, master.” He frowned at the little female. “She does not practice enough. You must practice all the time. As Mr. Whiskers says:”

“Competence is the only thing that will save you from the renderers vats,” the three parroted the saying together and grinned at each other.’

“We are off, my friends. Let us wander a bit. I am looking for any beings associated with Master Silverbirch. Do you have any idea where I should start looking?”

The two youngsters nodded enthusiastically. As he followed the two young ones who led him through a maze of narrow streets and alleyways, Quinn reminded himself again of the serious weaknesses that left him open to manipulation. Children. Children of all species. And to a lesser extent, females. He couldn’t bear to pass by any situation where harm could come to one. Over the years, that had more than once risen up to bite him. Afghanistan was a case in point. But the need to make amends drove him, so he compensated with awareness and tried to protect himself from his overactive empathy as best he could.

He didn’t have the luxury of a lot of time; he had a bad feeling that every minute he spent in Oldtown left two little girls in Emory vulnerable. Not only that, but the Troll Women didn’t get involved unless the situation was dire. His plan was to make the power players come to him. Oldtown was too vast to mount any sort of search. He briefly wondered where Wraith was laired up. He remembered she was adept at purposely varying her behavior patterns. Finding her would be challenging, but first, he had the damn scroll to find.

Quinn and his two shadows were snacking on some skewers of spicy beef and peppers from one of the many food stalls in Northmarket, when Klzyx pointed his chin toward a trio of well-born half-blood wood-elves swaggering toward them.

“That one, master,” he whispered. “The yellow-haired Asrai half-blood.”

“Stay here, young Klzyx. I’m going to stir up some trouble.”

Quinn wandered close to the three elves. The alpha male, tall and blond, was otherworldly handsome. Given his fine wool tunic, he had high status. He was watching at the frenetic buying and selling with a curled lip.

“Vermin. Can’t see how you stand to be around them.”

“I agree. I feel soiled by breathing the same air,” lisped one of his companions.

The blond, green-eyed female was a bodyguard, judging from how she scanned the environment. She sang out, “They have their uses. You need to get out of your father’s counting-house more often and come down to the real world. This is where your father makes his coins. Take that scowl off your face. No need to attract attention. Predators lurk here.”

Shock crossed the alpha’s handsome features when two cheerfully chattering young female dwarfs accidentally bumped into him. His hand moved in a blur as he grabbed the nearest and slapped her for her impudence. The force of the slap knocked her down. Her bulbous nose started to bleed profusely. He grabbed the other small female and slapped her as well. She wailed, her eyes showing white all around.

The elf smiled. Quinn could read his thoughts from the expressions that flitted across his face. The slap hadn’t satisfied his ire. He was thinking about ending the little female. No one would care.

“I do like it when they squeal,” he grinned to his companion.

The bodyguard interrupted, “Master, we need to stay unnoticed. Let her go. It is not safe here.”

“You worry too much. No one dare harm me.’

Quinn smiled. Just what he needed to attract a bit of attention. Venting the low-key irritation of having his day ruined was a pleasant bonus.

He moved. A quick step. A grip like a vice on the soft tissue just above the half-blood’s collarbone. Squeezed deep. Turned him. Snapped a short, powerful punch to the elf’s shoulder. The wood-elf shrieked as his clavicle broke.

The young dwarf female tore herself free and grabbed her friend’s hand, and the pair ran, looking fearfully over their shoulder to make sure the elves weren’t following.

The elf’s companions blurred into action.

Quinn chided himself for jumping to conclusions. There were two bodyguards. He was important.