Larn

Tir Ral-Nor

'Dar' Eherdir O' Lome

Fae O' Elum

Fifth Servant of the Circle

Witch-hunt

Part II

-Flowers in the ruins-

The blue and gold parrot squawked something that sounded quite vulgar in a long-lost tongue. It was perhaps meant to be humorous, but with a crowd of bullet ants crawling beneath their feet, titan beetles and jewel wasps buzzing around their heads and faces, the scowled Larn couldn't quite grasp the jest's allure, nor could he partake in their merriment.

"Looks like a jungle mister," Toutatis noted, whilst eyeing the giant, many-legged caterpillar he'd nailed on the tip of his dagger dancing about –but going nowhere. "Not a garden."

"Is that a Caribou?" Labriel asked the witch. The latter now a Mori-Zilan female with long white hair caught at the nape and clad in a leather skirt. Toutatis perked up and then went to investigate the stirring rich bushes that neighbored the cattails dominating the river's delta.

"A porcupine," Ael replied, back in her 2nd variation of the Lenar persona, to keep the young Zilan fooled and the busy listening for hostiles Larn barked at the male teenager.

"Stay away!"

"Is it eatable?" Toutatis asked defensively narrowing his sole eye.

"Yes, but you've gathered enough cattails and asparagus," Larn retorted. "Move on ahead in the valley and find out where the forest ends."

"It's too far away," Aelrindel warned.

"A couple of hours?" Toutatis asked.

"Days," Larn grunted. "Now get going and take the girl with you. If she tries to run away, slit her throat."

"Goddess mercy," the witch exclaimed rolling her eyes.

"Hey, I got a name," Labriel griped, still moving her bandaged stub carefully, but not in as much pain.

Larn pursed his mouth tightly, stood back and said nothing. With a hiss of frustration Labriel walked after the moving away Toutatis.

An hour later they found part of an old trail following the river's banks, the paved stones defeated by vegetation and reeds.

"No one comes this way anymore," Aelrindel commented walking behind Ralnor with a glance east, towards the peaks of Desert's Watch in the distance. The jungle Toutatis had spotted through the morning mist, now blocking their path as the old trail had been overrun. To their west the impressive Turlas Peak dominated the skyline. The buzz of the local fauna reaching a crescendo, the insects and animals maddened by the strong heat and humidity near Marionel River.

"Nyomel got abandoned after First Era's earthquakes," Ralnor grunted. "Your mother used to tell this story."

"Is this what you remember of her?" The sweaty Aelrindel griped.

I remember many things.

"A catastrophe can be a warning."

"Indubitably, great seer of the slums. How about you boil some water?" She taunted trying to jest. The witch frequently confused the two.

"We've enough water to drink," Larn retorted. "I do that is. You want to wash, or drink freely, jump in the river and do both."

"Wow. What's with the bad temper? And it'll wash the coal paint away. It's not tar Ralnor."

"Um," the assassin grunted and stopped under a huge Juniper tree to behold the rich wilderness spreading as far as the eye could see, after the edge of the valley. The latter cut between the mountains by the river's flowing waters. The rapids near the spring to their west, followed by the channel heading for the bridge entrance to the Orchard and the shores of the Great Acid Lake further to the south.

Most of the old road swamped and the gatherers paths cutting through the forest now difficult to discern. Yeah, it's a jungle, he thought begrudgingly and a Caribou popped its head from a bush, the small proboscis sniffing at the air, before it quickly retreated to safety.

"Why did you send Toutatis on his own?" The witch asked, while Larn was busy massaging the flesh on his re-attached index finger over the bandage. Twice attached the better term used, as he had to re-stitch the darn thing and chip away some of the cracked finger-bone. Larn had lost an inch of length on the digit after all was said and done.

"He's a great tracker," Larn murmured, the sweet smell of the sweaty female filling his nostrils. "A natural scout and pathfinder," he added, mostly to keep himself talking and not get too-distracted with her.

Never an easy thing.

Equally dangerous as sprouting nonsense with the gods listening.

"ERRGEAH!" Labriel screamed before he could finish and she jumped out from a pair of mahogany trees, landed in a roll on the muddy leaves and stood up ten meters from them with panic distorting her face. "Something…" the young Zilan started in-between gasps looking at the two startled older Zilan with gawking eyes.

"A panther?" The witch guessed moving to help Labriel and Toutatis came out of the thorny shrubberies three meters away from the overrun path. The teenager was covered in dark brown watery mire from boots to forehead and sported at least two hundred white and yellow quills all-over his body.

"I slipped… in an attempt to help her," Toutatis hissed extracting a long quill from his neck. "…right into… the darn quagmire."

"Aha," Larn grunted with a glare at the bewildered Labriel.

"That was ages before and then he appeared out of nowhere!" She snapped now angry. "Couldn't understand what it was saying! Or what it was!"

"Twas a curse… directed to yer dumb arse," the sullen Tout grunted and pulled out a long porcupine quill stuck on his forehead –right over the left eyebrow. Toutatis wiped the blood from his chin and added with a low groan of pain, admittedly speaking a little funny. "Fucking porcupine… had fallen in there… that first spike… went right through lip and tongue."

"Poor thing. Let me do this, you'll cause an infection," Aelrindel fawned over him, trying to help Toutatis extract the rest of the spikes. This is going to take a while, Larn thought sourly and directed an intense glare at the troubled Labriel.

"What?" The Zilan asked defensively.

"Find some dry wood to boil water," Larn ordered harshly. "Chop some more to make camp. Use the axe."

"I'm missing a hand you cruel bastard!" Labriel snapped angrily and added sounding hurt, borderline accusing. "It was my good arm."

You cut off was her meaning.

"No better time than this…" Larn retorted unsympathetically, but made an emphatic pause for tutoring purposes. "To start training the other. Use the small axe and stay where I can watch over you. It's a one-handed tool."

It did take a while.

Six days later they were still inside the 'forest' and for two of them Toutatis had to fight a fever. Labriel followed soon after with a case of diarrhea, as she had no idea which fruits to eat inside the jungle.

A shameful display for a Zilan, Larn thought returning to the ground. He knelt near his satchel and checked on his weapons whilst listening to the jungle's sounds. Finding the whetstone he brought his Kopis out and started honing its edge with measured slow passages.

All weapons Ralnor carried inside the bag and on his twin harnesses –and there were a lot them- the assassin had crafted or modified on his own. If the blade was good, he worked on the grip and the handles. Used wood where he could or bone. Avoided fancy materials because they were brittle or difficult to repair in a bind and kept an eye out for new weapons to add to his arsenal.

"Tut is gone," Aelrindel told him returning from the river. Her legs wet still, boots in hand and the skin showing covered in scratches from navigating the terrain. The witch sat down next to the working Larn, dragged her much larger, new leather bag near and got a bottle of salve out. "I miss my old bottles," she told the working the whetstone in silence Larn, then stooped forward to apply the green paste on her legs. Her hand moving from the ankle to the knee, then around toned thighs until the edge of the short leather skirt.

"The boy is scouting up ahead. I can't break through the canopy," Larn told her hoarsely and stood up. He dropped the blade inside the bag and wore the loaded harnesses one after the other. The thick shirt soaked in sweat underneath. "Like I used to," he added caught into the allure of watching her hands move. The spell weakening and Aelrindel's skin lightening up, turning from the Mori-Zilan dark to a tanned bronze.

Living outside suits her.

"You should have left Labriel behind," Aelrindel said and started working on her exposed arms, the soaked thin vest stuck on her heaving breasts. Oras Hells. "Dar Nym won't flinch."

Aenymriel might.

You never know.

"She's not too far gone," Larn replied although he didn't want to talk about it. "Can learn a thing or two still."

"Not from you," Aelrindel noted and stopped to look at his frowned expression. "I'm tired of hating people Ralnor."

No, you're just tired and hate sleeping on the ground.

All of bucolic life's allure and old witchcraft's mystic washes out of you, after a night in the company of river mosquitos.

"Toutatis likes her."

"Tut likes all females that are kind to him, because he misses a mother," the witch replied. "Or because they are pretty."

"Stay out of the kid's head," Larn warned pursing his mouth and she got up, wiping the cream from her hands on her neck.

"I didn't see you nursing them back to health," Aelrindel snapped.

"They need no nursing. It wasn't fatal," Ralnor retorted and she took a step to get into his personal space. She was an inch or two taller than him.

Fleshy fruits and in its juices roasted silly bunny, old Marionel sang an old lullaby, and Edlenn hearing the words started humming along stirring the large bronze pot over the fire.

Freshly gathered fruits, goat milk and thyme honey.

The young Aelrindel chuckled in her older sister's arms and the well-maintained garden, turned back into the semi-dark, very-hot jungle, when the memory retreated.

Rinariel's chuckle reverberating amidst the tall trees before the river's noise covered it.

Larn blinked seeing Aelrindel's face change, as the dream mixed with reality and the witch's spells.

Already taking hold.

Lush rare flowers had sprouted from the cracked tiles on the road, between the exposed roots and at the edge of old ruins.

"What's wrong? Why the long face again?" She asked seeing his grimace of frustration. "It's tiring."

"It was your plan. The trip, the skirt and Rhu," Larn retorted raspingly and the witch stood back. She started shaking with anger.

"You think I don't know, why you're really angry all the time?" She hissed with a glare. "Always watching with your dead eyes and sour face." Larn crooked his mouth. "You're a jealous, wicked creature Ralnor. You can't even hide it anymore!"

"Can you find the road on your own?" Larn queried. "Ah, but yes. There's no road doll. You haven't been here for fourteen centuries. Everyone left or died."

But me.

"You miserable little rodent," Aelrindel snarled. "This is how you repay our kindness? I know what you're thinking in that dark mind of yours! You left as well, to join Nym the moment I turned you down! Shame on you, Tir Lal-Nor! My mother would be devastated to discover what you did."

Larn grimaced, his jaw crackling in the attempt to move it about from the tension. The furious sorceress paced to her bag shaking, but stopped and turned around to glare at the scowled assassin.

"You're family, in a twisted sense," Aelrindel told him. "That's the answer eluding you. Why I didn't see you this way back then. I don't want you like that. You can't understand it, because your blood and char is too twisted. Mother was right."

"You forget it, when it's convenient," Larn grunted.

"Because I'm not a little girl anymore," the witch retorted her cheeks flushed. "I get to do whatever I want. I owe you nothing. I need not your judgement!" She snapped furious and then breathed out deeply. "Look at all this mess," Aelrindel added sadly. "Where are all my mother's people?"

Those still breathing, are right here.

In Neil-Dan.

Back at Taras.

"Ahm," Toutatis murmured from somewhere close. He sounded in discomfort from hearing their talk. Still, he made a good silent approach, Larn thought pleased and stared at the still covered in welts and bruises teenager. "The jungle opens up about five kilometers ahead. Big meadow, but it gets weird after a while."

"Anything else?"

"There's a woman on the trail, skirting the forest."

"Armed?"

"Not really. She's picking up flowers."

"A local gatherer?"

Abarat was across the lake.

"What's that?" Toutatis queried looking at the sullen witch with worry. Larn grimaced, breathed out and went to pick up his satchel.

"Show me."

"Leave her alone," Aelrindel told him in a steady voice. "Let her pass through."

Larn stood up and moved the satchel's leather strap over his head. Worked it over the sword handles calmly returning the witch's stare.

"Nulanos might have given us up."

"I trust him. He won't lie to me again."

Right.

"Can I get a glimpse on the why?" Larn probed tiredly.

"He needs me. Without me he's just a handsome pariah," the witch replied and walked to Toutatis to give him a big hug, the boy enjoyed, although she needed it way more than him.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

former Pristine Lake (Gulf) added

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Aenymriel/Nym

Five weeks later

5th of Metelaire Asta 3401 IC

(Imperial for 'Eighth Moon/Month, jargon 'end of summer')

Lorian, 5th Octavus (2nd Bacchanalia) 195 NC

Issir, the 3rd Month of Summer, or Eight Month of the year 195

Mongoose Beach in Pristine Gulf (a former salt lake)

East leg near the Oras Temple ruins

2 kilometers to the northwest of Hardir's Port

Closed for renovations 'Discreet Unicorns' tavern

Szilhali click-clacked straight for the tiled roof and when the wiry Zilan by the door checked raising his head to see what it was, Aenymriel stepped out of the shadows by the willow trees to walk across the lit up open area before the tavern.

It took the male a moment to spot her, since she had her soft leather boots on under the simple wrapped-front garment, with the square sleeves and rectangular body. Her custom weapon's harness -a modified leather vest and pair of pants she had on underneath, making the short-haired Aenymriel appear bulkier than what she really was.

"Shit, you're a girl," the thug guffawed, now a little relieved. "Heard a creepy sound crawling up the wall," he added with a shiver. "Fucking old place, is full of ghosts and creepy crawlers."

"I seek entrance to this here venue," Aenymriel announced politely and Nym chuckled in her head.

Look at these bulging manly veins. He can take a punch and punch back real good.

With both hips and knuckles!

The Zilan stood up from the chair by the entrance and pressed his mouth annoyed.

"All other girls and boys arrived already," he told her, then paused. "And this is the wrong entrance lass."

"I'm a customer," Aenymriel corrected him. "Ber told me 'good shit happen here' or 'all shit', he was drunk."

"You don't mean Ber Guadalupe?" The Zilan grimaced a little surprised. "He only drinks donkey milk."

"Did I say drunk?" Aenymriel smiled tauntingly. "I meant drowning."

In his blood, Nym chuckled.

Making funny noises.

Gurl… gurgle gurl.

Shut up, Aenymriel told herself.

The Zilan smacked his lips audibly, his scarred face turning serious. He had a newer stitched cut on the left side of his jaw. "We're closed. Renovations. Come back sometime in the next summer."

"I saw people coming in."

"Is that so? How? Didn't see you doing it."

"I was standing across the pyramid ruins? That little copse?" Aenymriel explained. "I wish to speak to the manager."

The Zilan's face mirrored hers from earlier but with more taunt surfacing.

"I'm Folmon, the interim manager. And muscle, given the state of Garth's economy. Ehm, we're closed…"

"Aenymriel, of Vaelerthiel," she offered and Folmon nodded, not impressed enough.

Oh well, at least you tried? Nym noted.

"I was born outside Baltoris Port," Folmon told her. "But like way outside, some of your lot called it the slums, 'the edge part with the strays' or some other shit. We called it the 'bridge road' because it was close to Vasati River."

"Folmon," Aenymriel said patiently, but he stopped her with a gesture.

"Let me rephrase it in my meagre vocabulary, Lady Aenymriel. Ah, damn it," he cursed faking at disappointment. "I can't. Ah. Fuck it, I'll try just fer you. We're closed. There," Folmon finally said in a taunting manner and then frowned seeing that Aenymriel had extended her arm, the now open palm containing a small square piece of papyrus as in an offering.

"I wish to speak to Hulanor, the real manager," she told him in a sugary manner. Nym's idea, as she had a thing for muscular men.

Folmon scratched his similarly cut hair with a calloused hand and sighed.

"Yeah, I don't see nothing written here," Folmon told her and with a glance behind her back for anyone lurking, he added probably satisfied upon realizing she was alone. "You got fooled. It happens. Got to watch out for crooks milady. I hope ye didn't pay for this."

Somehow managing to be mistaken in all of his assessments, and the aroused Nym found it hilarious.

"I want to speak to the manager," Aenymriel repeated politely.

"Hulanor bought the farm," Folmon replied, now annoyed and blinked spotting something written on the previously blank piece of paper. The blink turning into a spasm of fear, and he stood back a step with ogling eyes, his chin clenched. "What do you want?"

There goes all civility, Nym commented.

"A word," Aenymriel replied and Folmon grimaced, lowered his hand on the sword's pommel, but paused upon noticing the female's robe-like dress had opened revealing the blades underneath.

"Few customers here," Folmon warned with another glance at the darkness behind the Elderborn. "Come inside. I'll need five minutes."

Aenymriel closed her dress calmly and nodded. Then walked after the sullen Folmon towards the door of the remote roadhouse and saloon.

There was no music inside the dimly lit venue, a long bar at one corner and several stools in front of it. A long corridor leading backstage, behind the platform with the poles where musicians or dancers probably appeared later. Folmon signed for her to wait at the bar and Aenymriel placed her right hip on a tall stool.

"Ale? Cherry explosion?" The barmaid queried, cleaning her nails with a knife.

"Tempted, but I'll pass," she replied and heard a stool creaking, the figure of a well-dressed, smartly combed and ridiculously handsome Zilan pulling it back in order to sit next to her.

What a perfumed idiot, Nym commented not impressed, but Aenymriel's heart fluttered recognizing the noble visage of Paeris. Brave Edor's brother and the only surviving of great Isildor's grandkids. The once famed 'Bard of the Cinnamon Forest', the idyllic location on Isildor's Isle of the ancient Cydonia Cazan was still impressive to stare at.

"May I intrude, Lady Aenymriel?" Paeris asked.

No, you may not, Nym retorted. Fuck off silly.

"Lord Paeris," Aenymriel smiled, willing to entertain his company. "Of course."

"We haven't seen each other in ages. You were pretty young then still," Paeris reached with an index finger and tapped the bar with a lacquered fingernail twice. "Mulan. I'd like a refill."

"I won't drink tonight," she told him and Paeris cancelled the order without losing his cool. There was an intense heat emanating from him and Aenymriel felt it affecting her strangely. "What is a Zilan of your station doing in this venue Lord Paeris?" She queried, one eye watching the door that Folmon had disappeared inside.

"Not a lord of anything these past years," Paeris replied examining her face intently. "You're still working for the court though milady. Not a place one could expect you to be also."

"I'll answer if you do," Aenymriel taunted. "Rumor is, this venue targets a more extreme audience."

"One needs vices to fill the void," Paeris replied in a calm voice. His accent though polished and well-rounded, having a touch of harshness despite the flowery delivery. "But it might take a while for the real festivities to begin."

"It's what I was told," Aenymriel murmured. "It was a shock to learn you escaped the disaster unharmed Paeris."

"I was visiting the country," Paeris replied, his fingernail digging inside the wooden surface of the bar to carve a straight line. "You didn't answer my query Aenymriel. Are you here on business or pleasure?"

Was that a veiled threat? Nym hissed.

No, it wasn't, Aenymriel calmed her other persona down. He's right.

"Business," she replied and turned towards him so she could get a better look at his reaction. "But I'm willing to entertain both."

Paeris' handsome face showed no emotions. He did smile though in a measured manner and raised a well-trimmed cobalt eyebrow.

Oras Shadows lurking near. Aenymriel gulped down, feeling her wet core clench in response to the animalistic hunger behind those famed painted eyes.

Ok, I'll bed that, Nym decided. Book us a room.

And a bottle of oil.

Palace gossip was that he's girthy and you haven't trained them muscles in a while.

"Forgive me for being hesitant," Paeris replied and Aenymriel snapped out of her trance. "But there was a rumor circulating the Queen's court back then."

Welp, he knows we're batshit crazy. It's over. Wait until he hears we talk to ourselves, sleep with wolves and sing in the company of a blind Arachne, a chuckling Nym informed her. He-he. Hey, we know you take it up the arse, fucker! Did we make a big deal about it? She yelled at Paeris, but thankfully kept it all internal.

"You find it gross?" Aenymriel asked frostily and Paeris stood back as if trying to decipher her query.

"Strangely no. Why would it bother me whether you were Baltoris' killer or now Garth's, if you're not coming for me?" Paeris asked with a touch of uncertainty and genuine curiosity.

Well, Nym murmured caught unawares by his reply.

The door of the backstage office opened before Aenymriel could find a reply and a little reluctantly, she offered an excuse and forced herself to head towards the frowned Folmon.

'Hulanor' was still a big Zilan. Not as big as he once was, or his other more-infamous identity, but still the underworld boss cut an impressive figure. He pointed at the piece of papyrus she had given Folmon whilst drawing smoke from a thin cigar. The wiry Zilan stood next to the door when Aenymriel entered Aeson's office.

It was what the paper had answered and Oras knew better.

She turned to stare in Folmon's face intently.

"Come over here," Aeson ordered his lackey and Folmon walked near the large cedar office desk. "Give her space."

Aenymriel took several steps forward right after him and stopped a couple of meters away from the sitting criminal boss.

"It's disappointing," he told her puffing out in a controlled but rasping voice. "Hulanor was a good boy. Did what he was told. Your people had him killed. Aye. Cut him up like a pig in a back alley. Now you waltz into my office, threaten my people and speak about things you know little about. What am I to think of that? Heh?"

"I may be here for you," Aenymriel said and Aeson sucked at the head of his cigar, before replying hoarsely.

"Aenymriel. Here she comes Dar Nym, the Queen's butcher and her murderous minions. Now Garth's I suppose, or is it that two-faced cunt from SETC that sent you? Is that why you are here? Take another crack at me?"

"Master Luvon considers the contract fulfilled," Aenymriel replied and Aeson nodded with a grimace of distaste.

"Fulfilled my arse. Why are you here then? You wanted to speak. So speak," he told her and the door opened. Aenymriel turned and saw Paeris enter the office. The Elderblood went to stand near the wall to her left.

"You know Lord Paeris?" Aeson asked. "Sure you do."

"We've met," Aenymriel replied unsure on what was going on. "This is a private matter."

"I didn't invite him, but he's a customer of sorts. Got to be polite," Aeson replied in a sympathetic manner and Paeris glanced at the chubby crime-boss. "But hey, the lad can keep a secret, I'm sure."

Ahm. This is bafflingly bizarre, Nym commented.

"Whilst you're thinking about it, I'm told no soldiers are at the near and we still control the premises," Aeson informed her casually. "Let's be polite and civil is my meaning. We are not humans or the Gish. Um. Else, I'll reach out and hurt your lineage even from beyond the grave. Such a terrible thing to happen, when so few of you remain. It won't be blind revenge, we are not savages. Just good business, eh, mixed with a touch of pleasure."

"I don't need an army to kill you. Your muscle and Paeris are not real obstacles and I can eat those outside for breakfast."

"Hah, look at you talking smart," Aeson replied, showing extreme poise in her presence. He was never a brave man, so what's your leverage? Nym wondered. "Good Folmon is here to try and protect me from you. Old Paeris well, he is probably here to make sure you don't do anything stupid. There, you can relax old friend. I know how to speak to people."

Yeah, I don't like him that much to indulge his wants, Nym noted. That's a big favor to ask before us even sampling the goods.

"I want information," Aenymriel said with a glance at the unperturbed Paeris. "On a sensitive matter."

"You must not want it very much. Maybe you want to have a drink first, think about it some more? Go ahead, it's on the house," Aeson replied not budging and took a deep drag from his cigar. The tobacco flushing red hot and a rich aroma filling the large office.

Get a blasted window open dude, Nym hissed in her head. He's trying to kill us slowly.

"A couple boarded a smuggler's ship last month from Hardir's Port or thereabouts," Aenymriel started an eye on Paeris, who just shrugged his shoulders in a reassuring manner. What the hell is going on here? She wondered. "They traveled towards Serpent's Canal and made a stop there."

"Hardir's Port can't be the place. It operates only naval personnel and no traders or other business people. Were they military, your couple?" Aeson asked puffing smoke out, a little calmer now.

"A witch and an assassin," Aenymriel replied and Folmon shifted on his feet nervously next to the unruffled crime boss.

"That's it?" Aeson asked.

"You run ships out of Goras," Aenymriel reminded him.

"Everyone and his baby mother does. Heck, they even cut Garth in is the word," Aeson retorted and then smacked his lips. "Fine. They booked a transport for a pleasure journey up the Canal. Smugglers don't use it because of the patrols, but they paid good coin."

"The couple," Aenymriel started, but he stopped her with a gesture. Aeson extinguished his cigar in a black marble heavy tray before speaking.

"You have your info all mixed up. Said nothing about a couple that was you lass. Four people boarded. A Mori-Zilan female, a younger Zilan girl missing a hand, a creepy dude of unknown origins and an even creepier one-eyed human kid. About fourteen?" Aeson sighed. "So given what you look for, I must surmise you must be wrong and if you're not… are you certain of your facts milady?"

"They made a stop. Where?" Aenymriel asked and Aeson plucked another cigar from a wooden box and lit it –taking his time- with a silver metal encased lightstone.

"Nyomel Port, just after the canal's turn," Aeson replied.

"What's there?"

"Nothing. The place was left to nature after the earthquakes. Still people visit."

"One can reach Nesande's Garden following the river from there," Aenymriel said thinking out loud, in order to gauge his reaction.

"If one likes walking through the jungle," Aeson replied and puffed out. "Who is the witch?"

There are flowers in the Orchard.

Such a cute way of delivering a message.

"Will your men find the place again? Follow them up Marionel River?" Aenymriel asked, disregarding his query.

"What are we, bounty hunters?" Aeson asked and glanced at Folmon.

"Menlzon and his gang are at Serpent Canal's Docks," Folmon replied the voiceless query. "Looking for that thing."

"Um. Is he with Vydnisol still?"

"Yeah, got these two humans with them. Sesto Wings and Austen Nag." Folmon informed him and Aeson nodded.

"Vyd did a bit of killing back in the day, yes?" Aeson probed.

"Plenty, since he was a committed cannibal, but he switched to venison when Lord Calamer placed those bounties and then went full vegan for a couple of centuries now," Folmon replied and Aeson smiled apologetically, looking at the two elderbloods. "By the way, hunting a witch is not in their job description."

Hunting Dar Eherdir is in no one's job description, she thought. But someone needs to do it.

"I just want your men to comb the forest starting at old port of Nyomel, up the river and push them towards the lake," Aenymriel explained. "I'll have my people take care of the rest."

"What is this witch doing in Nesande's Garden?" Aeson asked in his rasping voice. "Not a good place to hide, then again it might be a great place since no one is vacationing there these days."

"Can they do it?" Aenymriel asked and pointed at the piece of papyrus.

"They can," Paeris intervened and Aeson glared his way annoyed. "You'll help Lady Aenymriel my old friend."

Huh? Lord Paeris you naughty boy. We might actually get laid, Nym guffawed not expecting the turn of events.

"I need them elsewhere," Aeson argued, tapping the table's surface with his fingers. "Perhaps, and given the rare opportunity to speak to the head of the Circle," he continued. "I can ask for a small favor. Smooth over past grievances and compensate a father for the loss of a son?"

"You want someone killed?" Nym asked, taking over for the still swooning Aenymriel and the crime boss sucked at the head of his cigar deeply afore replying in his hoarse, characteristically unruffled voice.

"At some point, we all do."

"Next time, we'll have a drink," Paeris said escorting her outside and Nym, now in control, stooped near the Elderblood's face to examine him closely.

"You smell of human blood."

"I do," Paeris replied with a cynical smile. "But I can share."

"You are full of surprises Lord Paeris," Nym chuckled and pulled back intrigued. "Hidden beneath this attractive façade."

"Maybe one time you'll find out," Paeris replied passionately, again skirting the line between threatening and flirting. A lethal blend, Nym thought and gave a small bow before leaving the Elderblood back at his spot at the bar. Mulan, the armed barmaid, had a long glass filled with a creamy red liquid placed in front of him with a practiced smile.

Cherry explosion, I guess.

Aenymriel's comment went unanswered as Nym, walked into a shadow the moment she stepped out of the remote tavern and came out just behind the wall of the pyramid-temple where Dar Fenog waited patiently.

"Nym," Dhin said with his spell-voice, managing to maintain his composure. "Was about to head inside. Where's Dar Nalta?"

"Right behind you," Nym replied and this time Dhin flinched in panic, but failed to dislodge Szilhali.

Hop, the Arachne sang pleased and Dhin leaped upwards again.

Hop.

"Stop it," Nym ordered them.

"Damn it," Dhin cursed with a shiver, when the blind Arachne leaped off of him and onto the tree trunk. He breathed out and then turned to stare at the thoughtful Nym.

"What took you so long?"

"Almost got laid," Nym replied. "There's still a chance."

"Right." Her old pupil replied with a grimace. "Anything else?"

"Bragur didn't want to move the pack so far away," Nym replied. "So Draug promised a hunt."

"Are you fucking serious?" Dhin exploded losing his temper. Probably still rattled from Dar Nalta's touch. "Inside the Garden?"

"Not many visit these days," Nym replied with a chuckle and slapped his sweaty, tensed face once. She had just repeated the elusive Aeson's words back to her pupil.

That's disturbing, Aenymriel commented.

Tsk-tsk.

Shush you.

"He promised them a witch-hunt," Nym continued and stared at the two moons, almost full at the night sky with a serene smile on her face. "Let them do their thing, this once."

"Why not just allow Garth to deal with her? Since when do you care about the sorceress?" Dhin probed in his singsong spell-voice and she breathed out, cast a final glance at the tavern's now sealed entrance, noticing the lack of windows.

Flesh eaters.

The realm returned to its default settings.

"I'm not sure he can handle her," Dar Nym replied indifferently. "And I don't give a damn about Edlenn's spawn. Whether she lives or dies. I just want Ralnor punished."

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