The Keeper and the Dragons
Copyright© 2023 by Charly Young
Chapter 29
Eastmarket District, Oldtown
Goldeneyes woke suddenly. Something was amiss. The window that overlooked the street was open. She stiffened in her cot. Had she left it open? Or was it the Shadow walker? Superstitious dread had dogged the edge of her mind ever since her watcher had brought news about him walking the streets of Oldtown.
“You are jumping at shadows. Control yourself,” she muttered.
A voice came to her out of the dark. “Be at ease, goblin. I mean you no harm.”
For the first time since she was a cub, Goldeneyes squealed in pure terror.
A figure stepped out into the light. Her mind went blank with disbelieving irony when she saw the stained worker’s clothes and the red kerchief. She had sent a team out to capture the one being that terrified her. Had she been able, she would have strangled old Silverbirch on the spot. She moaned in despair. This was what came from ambition. She had killed her entire clan with her poor decisions. Her grandmother’s sister had given her counsel when street gossip filtered down about the Leprechaun’s demise.
“The Shadow Walker now involves himself in Oldtown’s affairs. Beware, he is not like any being you might have met. He has no desire for power or status or wealth. Do not test him if you value the clan. He will have no desire or reason to harm us unless we cross him. If you give him reason, he will not stop until every one of us is in a renderer’s vat. Even the Sidhe walk carefully around him.”
“Have you come for me?” She hated how her voice wavered.
At least die with some dignity.
Then realized that her fore-mothers would have cut her throat had they known she possessed such fanciful notions—dignity be damned, survival was everything.
“Not unless you are stupid. I mean no harm to you or your sisters and grandmothers. I want information, that is all.”
His quiet voice shifted her mood from panic to resignation with a bright sliver of hope. She allowed herself to foster it. It made no difference if he was playing a cruel trick. If he meant her dead, she was dead.
“Very well. What do you need to know?” She leaned back against her pillow. Her hand slipped under the quilt feeling for the dagger strapped to her leg.
It was gone from its sheath.
Of course, he had taken it. A giggle of hysteria erupted before she could bite it down. That it was gone, more than anything else, cemented the fact of her helplessness.
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