Chapter 27

The Desolate, Oldtown

Quinn came to face down on a mattress that smelled of mildew. The sound of a baby crying overlaid the rumble of several deep voices arguing.

“Shut that cub up for mother’s sake,” a harsh voice shouted in trollish. “I can’t think with all that noise.”

He lay quietly while he accessed his condition. Except for the odd bruise and a headache, he was in good condition. He marveled he was still alive and took a moment to berate himself. His haste was making him take too many chances. His only excuse was that he’d been a half a bubble off center ever since the sight of the mind ripper in Althea’s office.

You better get your shit together. You’ve used up all the luck you’re ever gonna get.

The Other added to his self condemnation by signaling a strong sense of disapproval as it came to the fore.

I know I know. Quit nagging.

They merged

His senses expanded and set about feeling out the environment. He uncovered a whole new layer of disagreeable odors. The cool, dry air was redolent with odors of cooking and urine. He tasted a faint taste of salt. Quinn knew instantly where he was.

Down in the Desolate.

All right, this is what you wanted. Let’s see if we can make some progress.

Quinn tested his bonds. Only his wrists tied. They don’t know who he is; they must think they’ve captured an old woodworker.

Embarrassing dumb luck.

“I know you’re awake, old man. I can see your breathing changed,” a harsh voice growled in trollish.

Quinn willed the Other away and rolled over with a theatrical groan.

A hunchbacked troll with one arm glared at him. Two orcs stood at his back. The small goblin who had been following him and tiny pixie who had stabbed him sat on the floor in the corner cuddling the crying baby.

“Masters, I don’t understand. Why have you abducted me? What could you want with a poor worker of wood?”

“Well, human, you’re worth a good deal of money to us. I don’t know what you did, but Goldeneyes wants you and will pay good coppers for you.”

Quinn sat up and tried to decide what to do. He knew he could find Goldeneyes easy enough. But he knew he needed a guide to get out of the catacombs if he didn’t want to waste a ton of time stumbling around trying to find his way out. The place was a veritable labyrinth.

He looked at the pixie in the corner who gazed speculatively back at him. The baby keeps its little whimpering cry.

She was the brains of the outfit.

Quinn flexed his arm.

The dragon’s razor instantly emerged with a shriek and snapped out two finely calculated blows to the foreheads of each of the orcs.

The floor shook as they fell.

It snapped out once more and encircled the troll’s throat.

“Be you still, troll,” Quinn grates in guttural trollish. “I don’t want to harm you, but I will take your head if you move.”

The troll blinked. Stood as still as a statue.

Quinn looked at the pixie and the goblin who were gathering themselves to run.

“Mistresses, hold you fast. I will not harm you or your group further, but you must hold fast or I will have to take your life. Do you ken?”

Wide-eyed, the pixie settled back and waved at the goblin to join her.

He stepped up to the growling troll, who was working himself in one of his kind’s famous rages. Quinn held his left wrist up to the being’s eyes.