Mysteries of the Book

By Kenneth McDonald

Armed with a magic that he doesn’t understand and can barely control, Bredan Karras must lead an unlikely band of heroes halfway across the world to the untamed continent of Weltarin. The sentient artifact that granted him his powers, the mysterious Elderlore Libram, lies at the end of a long and dangerous path that will test the warrior and his friends as never before. But others are also seeking the book, and the adventurers do not know that their enemies are closer than they think.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth McDonald
• Release date: Aug 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005207076

Kenneth McDonald

I am a retired education consultant who worked for state government in the area of curriculum. I have also taught American and world history at a number of colleges and universities in California, Georgia, and South Carolina. I started writing fiction in graduate school and never stopped. In 2010 I self-published the novella "The Labyrinth," which has had over 100,000 downloads. Since then, I have published more than fifty fantasy and science fiction books on Smashwords. My doctorate is in European history, and I live with my wife in northern California.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Warren was a tangled network of twisting alleys and close-packed, sagging buildings that filled a narrow wedge of space between the northern edge of the Shield District and Severon’s Old Wall. The last light of the day was fading as a solitary figure, draped in a concealing cloak, made his way deeper into that network.

The intruder did not go unnoticed. At one point, as he paused at an intersection, shadowy figures materialized at the mouth of the one of the crossing alleys. The stranger reached under his cloak and waited, and after a few moments the shadows withdrew. He continued on his way as the evening gloom descended upon the city.

He finally turned into a narrow passage that culminated in a set of worn stone steps. They descended to a heavy iron-bound door. The banding was caked with rust, but the hinges glistened with fresh oil.

The traveler rapped on the door and waited. Eventually a narrow slit slid open to reveal a pair of eyes. Not open yet, he said.

I’m expected, the traveler said.

The slot snapped shut, and after a moment the traveler could hear the sounds of heavy latches being worked. Finally, the door swung open—the treated hinges making barely a sound—to reveal a small foyer populated with wooden cubbies that filled an entire wall. A doorway framed with red curtains led into the interior, but it was blocked by the man who had opened the door, a giant who stood a head taller than the traveler. He regarded the new arrival for a moment before holding out his hand.

The traveler reached under his cloak and produced a sword in a worn leather scabbard. The big man merely turned and slid it into one of the cubbies before gesturing for the other to precede him into the next room.

The two men walked into a space that was lushly decorated, with more curtains augmented by painted tapestries and polished wooden floors. A dozen lamps of brass with glass bulbs hung from sconces along the walls and the carved wooden pillars that helped support the ceiling. Only two of them were lit, leaving the interior dim and shadowed. But there was no mistaking the purpose of the place, even empty. Neat piles of chips were laid out on the tables, along with dice cups, stacks of cards, and even the gilded spinning disc and elaborate counters used for games of dragonette. A long bar that fronted shelves containing every possible variety of liquor ran along the left side of the room.

He’s in the back, the big man said. The traveler knew the way. He knew The Lucky Cast all too well. That was the root of his troubles. His immediate ones, anyway.

The back door was slightly open, but the traveler knew better than to enter without knocking. He waited until the deep voice said, Come in, before he pushed the door fully open and went in.

The back room was as ornate as the gambling chamber, its walls paneled with rich woods and a plush carpet that looked like elvish make covering the floor. An expansive desk dominated the space. Behind it was the man that the traveler had come to see. Another man leaned against the wall near the door, cleaning his fingernails with a knife as slender as he was. The big guard had gone back to his station, leaving the traveler to close the door behind him.

Ah, Garrett, the man behind the desk said. He was also of thick build, more muscle than fat. His skin had a grayish cast that suggested at his part-orcish bloodline even before his mouth opened to reveal the protruding tusks within. Do you have what I asked for?

Yeah, I got it, Garrett said. But this is the last time. After this, we’re square, you got that, Gantz?

The half-orc smiled, a grim expression given his features. From the look in his eyes he knew only too well what effect it produced. What makes you think you call the shots here, warrior?

Garrett’s eyes flicked to the man with the knife, but he did not falter. I pay my debts, he said. I’ve paid several times over. You can do what you want, but after this, I’m done.

Gantz held the other man’s eyes for a long moment before he settled back in his chair. All right, fair enough. Now tell me.

They left town yesterday, Garrett said. They were preparing for a sea journey.

Colverston?

That would be my guess.

They say where they were going after that?

No. But I overheard the half-elf asking the other woman if she was uncomfortable about returning to her homeland. They didn’t say where that was.

Gantz nodded. Good. That’s good. You’ve done well, Garrett.

What did these people do to you, you rogue?

That is none of your concern. A deal’s a deal, and we’re square, as you said. I would suggest that you do your gambling somewhere else in the future.

Don’t worry. You won’t ever see me again.

Garrett turned back to the door. He met the eyes of the thin man with the knife for a moment, then opened the door and left. The knife-wielder prodded the door shut with his boot before turning back to Gantz.

Make it look like a simple mugging gone bad, the half-orc said. Make sure he’s found far away from here.

The thin man nodded and departed.

Gantz waited another minute, then rose. He went to one of the wall panels and pressed a hidden catch along its edge. The panel swung out, revealing a hidden space beyond. The half-orc reached in and first took out a leather harness that supported no fewer than four daggers in black scabbards. He put that on before pulling out a heavy coat. As he pulled it on, he considered the chances of his evening ending the same way that Garrett’s would. That would be ironic, he thought. But it didn’t matter. Like the unlucky gambler, he had no choice.

The main room of The Lucky Cast was quiet. In a few hours it would be crowded with people, noisy with the click of dice and the whirring of the wheel, the groans of failure offset by the cheers of success. It was an intoxicating mixture, and one that Gantz enjoyed.

Pellas saw him coming and opened the door for him. I’ll should be back by opening, Gantz told him.

You want I should get a couple of the boys? the big enforcer asked.

No. In truth he might have appreciated some company, but their presence would have no impact on what happened when he delivered his message. He would have preferred to wait until morning, but the one who had commissioned him for this job had made it one hundred percent clear that delay was not acceptable.

Pellas merely accepted his orders without question. He stood at the door until Gantz left, then he swung it shut and latched it behind him.

* * * * *

Chapter 2

A steady breeze blew off the water as flocks of sea birds danced and darted in the air over the docks of Colverston. The wharf, which extended for almost half a mile along the edge of the bay, bustled with activity as men and horses worked to load and unload the ships lashed to the piers of the harbor. Smaller fishing boats slid in and out between the larger craft, delivering their catch before the sun faded beyond the horizon.

Bredan sat watching the scene from a perch along the sea wall near the southern end of the wharf. It was funny, he thought. Colverston was a proper city, easily ten times the size of Crosspath, even leaving aside the many travelers and traders who came and went via the busy port. But after his time in Severon and Ironcrest, it seemed small, even provincial. The tallest building in the city was the keep, but it could not rival even the humblest of the monumental structures he’d seen in the two capitals.

The world is the same, he thought. It’s me who’s changed.

You know that we’re supposed to stay together, a familiar voice said, drawing him out of his reverie. None of us should be alone here, especially you.

He looked up and smiled at Glori. It was good to be together again. All of them… though it had taken some persuading to get the wizards and the King’s men to agree to let Kosk accompany the expedition. The Ironcrest dwarves had not let up in their protests, even when the monk had agreed to turn himself over to their custody—after the mission to Weltarin was concluded.

Glori smiled back at him and took the space next to him along the sea wall, careful of the scattered spatters of bird guano on the stone.

I thought this might be the last chance to be alone for a while, he said.

That’s true. Not much privacy on a ship.

I’ve never seen the sea before, Bredan said.

This is only the start of it, Glori pointed out. This bay here connects to the Gulf of Arresh, which is pretty tame, or so I’ve been told. The Blue Deep is out beyond, an ocean bigger than all of Voralis put together.

You’ve seen a lot in your travels, he said.

I’ve never been here, she admitted. But I visited Shellas Point with Majerion, and took a few brief voyages, mostly just short hops from one coastal city to another.

I heard that you saw him in Tal Nadesh. Are you okay?

Yeah. I guess I sorted out a few things. And I got a new lyre. She shifted to show him the instrument that rode now on her hip. It was a beautiful instrument, its body a rich golden color.

Nice, Bredan said. I noticed it, of course. I didn’t want to say anything… I know how devoted you were to your old one.

I still have it, she said. This one’s magical. Actual magic, not the… Well, it can cast several powerful spells.

Bredan knew what she’d been about to say, that Majerion had lied to her about her old lyre’s magic to help her adjust to the reality of her own budding magical powers. She’d held on to a lot of anger, both about that and her feelings of abandonment by her former mentor. Bredan knew that she’d tell him more when she was ready, so he didn’t push her on it. The days since their reunion had been busy with activity, especially after the revelations in the Vault of the Book. But they would have plenty of time to share their respective tales on the coming journey. From what he had been told, it would take weeks if not months to reach their final destination.

That could come in handy, where we’re going, he said.

For a moment they just watched the fading day in silence, then she said, What do you think of Kalasien?

The King’s man? He seems to know his business, I guess. Why?

I don’t know. There’s something about him, it just makes me uneasy.

Well, he is a spy, of sorts. And we will need his skills and knowledge to get where we’re going. Has he said or done something that triggered your instincts?

No, nothing specific. We’d encountered him once before, you know. Before the Vault, I mean.

Yeah. That first meeting with the Circle, in the Apernium. The man in the back.

I wasn’t sure you’d noticed.

Why, because I looked like I was going to whip out my sword and start chopping wizards in half?

She laughed, but it quickly turned back into a serious expression. I’d never seen you so angry, she said. I’m not saying it wasn’t justified, not after what happened to you. But it was… scary.

I know. I’ve changed, I know it. It scares me too. But this… I have to do this, Glori. Have to see it to the end. Wherever that is.

I know.

A clank of metal announced the arrival of Quellan. The cleric’s heavy armor made it difficult for him to creep up on anyone undetected, but after what had happened in Underhold, he tended to wear it any time he was not actually sleeping.

The sea captain we were supposed to meet has arrived, Quellan said. Kalasien is meeting with him.

Where’s Kosk? Glori asked.

Meditating, Quellan said. I do not believe that he is looking forward to the sea journey.

This is only the first stage, Glori said. It should be easy compared to the next one.

I did not feel that Kosk was receptive to such reminders at the moment, Quellan said.

What about Xeeta? Bredan asked. It cannot be easy for her… the thought of returning home.

Arienne, Glori said to Bredan. You should start getting used to it now, that way you’re less likely to make a mistake when it matters.

You’re right, Bredan said.

I spoke with her on the way here, the cleric said. She said that she considers ‘home’ to be with us, wherever we are. She understands the need, that the only place where we can find a crew that can make the arduous journey to the Weltarin continent is in Li Syval.

A pity we cannot rely upon the wizards for speedy transportation this time, Glori said.

There are no teleportation circles in Weltarin, Quellan said. And from what I understand, teleportation without one, to a destination that is not well-known, can be quite hazardous.

It is what it is, Bredan said. I suppose we should get back, meet this captain.

He is supposed to be someone trustworthy, Quellan said. He’s Arreshian, a man who’s worked for the Crown in the past.

Yeah, I gathered he’s made this journey plenty of times in the past, Glori said.

Bredan brushed off his leggings as he rose to his feet. I’d still like to see for myself.

We’ll all go, Glori said.

The three of them made their way back along the docks toward their inn, while around them the bustle of a busy afternoon along the wharf continued, ignorant and unconcerned with their affairs.

* * * * *

Chapter 3

In a dismal chamber far under the streets of Li Syval, a man knelt in front of an altar of ancient stone.

The air was stale and thick with foul odors, the floor slick with muck and filth, but the man paid no attention whatsoever to his surroundings. A metal grate in the ceiling let in shattered fragments of light, just a faint glow that filtered down from somewhere above, but the man’s eyes were well-used to the near-darkness. A steady drip of water could be heard from somewhere nearby.

The man was clad in old rags that gave him a hunched and harmless appearance. The reality, however, was far from that impression.

He spoke quietly to himself as his hands traveled over the altar. Runes had been etched into the stone, so weathered that even his sensitive fingers could only barely detect them. The center of the stone had been hollowed out so that it formed a sort of font. It was currently empty, though there were old stains around the edges of the bowl that suggested at what it had once held.

The man rose slowly, the creaking of his tired muscles no affectation, and stepped around the altar to a shallow alcove in the wall behind it. The stones there had been carved to form dozens of small cubbies. The light was just barely enough to reveal that there were small objects in those niches. Most of them were gray and blended in with their surroundings, but here and there a flash of color was visible.

The old man’s eyes passed over the niches as if they were old friends. He stopped at the one he was looking for and reached into to withdraw the object it held. For a moment, as he held it up, the light caught it and revealed its form.

It was a tiny statuette, no more than a finger’s length in height. For something that small, it was incredibly detailed. It depicted a person, a woman. It had been painted with such intricate care that the clothes she wore looked almost like real fabric, and her hair looked almost as though it would sway in a breeze. But the weak light also revealed other features, tiny white horns that curled up from her head, and skin that was too red to be human.

The old man stared at the tiny figure with rapt admiration. My beautiful child. I’ve waited so long for you to come back to me.

A sound from the corridor outside the room drew the old man’s attention. It was not much, just a soft scrape on stone, but he quickly turned and tucked the figure into his fist before concealing it against his body.

Come in, my lovelies, he said, beckoning with his other hand.

Two figures shuffled into the room. At first glance they looked as physically disparate as two beings could be. One was a huge, thick-limbed hulk, his head almost reaching the upper lintel of the doorway. That head seemed to be perched directly on his broad shoulders, his neck all but invisible under cords of muscle. For all that his tread was surprisingly soft; his steps made only the faint sounds that had alerted the old man.

The brute’s companion was his opposite in every regard. He was thinner even than the old man, his arms hanging from his body like gangly reeds. He walked hunched over, his palms touching the floor as if seeking the reassurance of the solid stone. His jaw hung at an odd angle, causing one side of his face to droop slightly.

As the two figures came toward the light—not quite entering the radius of the illuminated area—some features became visible that suggested that they were not as different as first appeared. Their skin bore a tint, a mottled gray that wasn’t entirely due to the washed-out light. Both had slightly pointed teeth and ears, and prominent, ridged brows that culminated in small black horns that stuck out from the sides of their temples.

The two watched the old man in silence. Finally, he said, I have news, my pretties, important news. One of our lost sheep is returning to us.

Still the pair did not react. The old man waved a hand, and an image swirled into view in front of him. It showed the same figure represented by the statuette in his hand, a woman of the same mixed heritage as the unlikely duo.

Find her. Bring her to me, unharmed.

Where should we look, Master? the smaller one asked. His deformed jaw added a slur to his words, but they were understandable.

Keep an eye out for ships coming from the mainland, the old man said. Remember, do not be seen.

The pair turned and left.

The old man watched them go, then turned and put the figurine back into its place in the alcove. Behind him, a shadow stirred in a corner of the room, where two walls met the ceiling. It dropped down and crept forward almost to the edge of the light, almost where the smaller of the two tieflings had stood. It was a spider, fat and hideous, roughly the size of a small cat. It moved with an odd gait, as it was missing one of its legs.

For a moment it just watched the old man, who was still staring at the niche in the wall. Then it spoke.

They won’t find her, it said. They can barely find their own cocks to piss, that pair.

Don’t be harsh, Zuvox, the old man said without turning. The twins have given loyal service.

Unlike some others I might mention, the spider said. Whatever brings her back here, she won’t be stupid enough to reveal her true identity, or let herself be seen by the likes of them.

That is why I am sending you as well, my loyal servant, the old man said.

Even if you do get her back, it won’t be like it was before, Zuvox said.

I know that! the old man said angrily, turning to face the creature. With an obvious effort he mastered himself. She is special, he said. We need her. Long have I waited for one of my children to return. We cannot afford to miss this opportunity. Find her, Zuvox. Guide the twins to where she is, and help them bring her to me.

The spider made a halting bow. As you command. It stepped back and shimmered, its form blurring until a moment later a large raven was there. It hopped awkwardly; in this form too, it was missing a leg. It turned around and spread its wings, launching itself into the air. Within a moment it was gone.

The old man remained in the dank chamber for a few moments longer. He raised his hand and summoned the glowing image of the woman once more.

You will be mine again, my dear one, he said. Then he let the image fade and strode out from the room.

* * * * *

Chapter 4

The Arreshian caravel Wavefarer carved through modest seas, its sails filled with a strong following breeze. Ahead of the ship was a green island, its features taking on definition as the vessel drew nearer. A solitary peak rose up from the center of the island, and two juts of land extended from around an enclosed harbor as if to welcome the new arrivals. A city of considerable size rose from the inner edge of that harbor, its clean white buildings ascending onto the sides and summits of the hills that surrounded the bay.

Xeeta stood alone on the raised foredeck of the Wavefarer, staring at that slowly-approaching cityscape. She was resolved, and did not feel any doubts about her decision as the familiar landmarks became visible, but that did not ease the roiling uncertainty in her gut or the grim scenarios that constantly played out in the back of her mind.

A creak of wood alerted her to the presence of others behind her. She didn’t need to look back; she could already distinguish the feel of her friends from others, either the disinterested ambivalence of the crew or the wary deference from Kalasien and his men. Their presence was a balm that eased some of the turmoil she felt. That alone was enough of a confirmation of her decision to return.

She didn’t turn around until they came to stand at the rail beside her. Bredan remained back a step, twining his arm around one of the lines that supported the foremast. Glori, on the other hand, fearlessly joined Xeeta at the very front of the ship, leaning out so that the spray that the bow tore from the waves flashed over her features. I know a few individuals who will be quite happy to see this part of the voyage come to an end, she said. Are you okay?

Xeeta nodded. I never thought I’d be back here again, she said.

We’ll only be here long enough to make contact with Kalasien’s friends, and find a Syvalian ship and crew willing to take us to Weltarin.

"I wish we could stay with the Wavefarer, Bredan said. No offense, Xeeta…"

Arienne, Glori interjected.

Right. Anyway, after all you’ve told us about Syvalian society, and its sailors in particular, it seems like a long shot to find a captain we can trust.

Your caution is wise, Xeeta said. Most Syvalian captains aren’t far off from pirates. In some cases, literally; many do a bit of piracy on the side when times are tight. In Li Syval it’s seen as a patriotic duty, to help ensure Syvalian dominance of the seas.

Bredan frowned. That proves my point, then…

That’s all true, but they know the Deep, Bredan. No non-Syvalian ship has ever made the Weltarin crossing, as far as I am aware. Though few captains are willing to attempt the journey these days.

They gave up most of their colonies on the other continent, didn’t they? Glori asked.

Xeeta nodded. Yes. During the initial decades of exploration and discovery, there was a lot of talk of riches and new lands, even some who talked about a new Syvalian Empire to rival the Mai’i. But that ran up against the hard reality. Weltarin is halfway around the world, and even Syvalian ships make the journey only with great difficulty. The islands where they initially landed were sparsely populated and had few resources. The mainland had more riches, but also harsh terrain, dense jungles and arid deserts that were equally hostile to colonists. That’s not even considering the creatures that lived there, monsters worse than anything we have back home.

And there were intelligent races there as well, yes? Glori prodded.

Yes. Strange beings, creatures that we would consider a mixture of animal and man. All barbarians by our standards, but no less dangerous for it.

I take it the initial contacts were not friendly, Glori said.

How would you feel, if armed strangers came to your land and started carving out its resources to ship halfway around the world? Bredan asked.

I’ve read histories that said there was plenty of blame to go around, Xeeta said. But you’re not wrong. Most of the Syvalian colonists ended up returning home, but they left behind a lot of blood in their wake.

Another creak, this one significantly louder, drew their attention to another pair of new arrivals. This time it was Quellan and Kosk. The half-orc looked relaxed in a loose shirt. No amount of preparedness was enough to justify wearing heavy armor at sea, so he’d taken the captain’s suggestion and left it in his quarters. Kosk wore simple traveler’s clothes, but he looked a little green, and he remained close to the foremast, well back from the ship’s rails.

Ah, Kosk! Glori said. Finally decided to come up and take in the fine salt air?

The dwarf muttered something that was probably better left unheard.

Sea sickness is a common affliction, and plays no favorites by race or gender, Quellan said. The half-orc had also had some difficulties adjusting to sea travel, but his innate hardiness had ultimately won out. Now he looked almost hale as he stepped up to the forward rail to catch his first glimpse of Li Syval. Impressive, he said.

It’s called the Gem of the Deep, Xeeta said. Lady of the Seas.

It looks almost as large as Severon, Bredan said.

It’s only about half as large, just going by population, Quellan said. At Xeeta’s look he added, I sought out a few books before we left.

Of course you did, Kosk said.

The only question is whether we’ll find what we’re looking for there, Bredan said.

If a ship heading to Weltarin can be found anywhere, it will be there, Xeeta said.

Assuming that Kalasien’s contacts play out, Kosk said.

We have no reason to believe they won’t, Glori said.

We’ll want to keep a low profile, either way, Xeeta said. You don’t want to attract the attention of the Ruling Council.

The city’s set up like the dwarves of Ironcrest, isn’t it? Bredan asked. Merchant guilds in charge of things.

Sort of, Xeeta said. The Council consists of the fifty leading families of the city. The number is set, but the exact participants frequently shift. As a result, there’s a constant game of houses going on, with plenty of plotting, backstabbing, and the occasional murder. About half of the population is caught up in it in one way or another, and the rest mostly just try to stay out of their way.

We’ll only be here a few days, hopefully, Quellan said. Not enough time to get into trouble with the locals.

Kosk snorted at that. You disagree? Glori asked.

When has it ever taken us any time at all to find trouble? the dwarf asked.

Well, maybe this time we can avoid it, Glori said. She tapped Quellan’s chest, and the sigil there. You know, you’ll have to play covert as well. Her tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in her eyes when they met his.

I know, Quellan said with a sigh. "I have already prepared a canvas wrap for my shield.

I have never gone to a place where any of the Triad gods were not worshipped, Kosk said.

Laesil is venerated, and worship of Sorevas is tolerated, Xeeta said. But the Syvalians have viewed the church of Hosrenu as a foreign import, ever since an incident related to some missionaries almost a millennium ago.

Long memories, Glori noted.

You said there aren’t many dwarves here, Kosk said. I’m not wearing a bloody canvas cover.

There aren’t many, Xeeta said, but Kalasien’s cover should hold, at least for a few days. As long as we all play our assigned roles.

I said I’d wear the bloody clothes, Kosk said. I just hope that bloody fop knows what he’s about.

We have no choice but to trust him, Bredan said. Other than… Arienne, he’s the only one of us who has spent time in Li Syval. And she needs to stay out of sight.

But surely no one will recognize her, wearing the amulet, Glori said.

No, he’s right, Xeeta said, reaching up to touch the gemstone at her throat. While I can appear as almost anyone using this, it’s an active spell, and radiates magic. While spellcasting is not forbidden in Li Syval, spellcasters must register with the city authorities. The law was put into effect after the cult that created me was exposed. I don’t know if the edict is still in effect, but it would be a needless risk for me to travel in the city. Don’t worry, I’ve seen enough of Li Syval for a lifetime; I have no desire to go sightseeing.

None of us are here to sightsee, Bredan said. Let’s just find Kalasien’s ship and get out of here.

Speak of the devil, Kosk said. Here comes one of his dogs now.

Another man ascended the stairs to the now-crowded foredeck. He too was clad in simple sailor’s garb, a billowing shirt over loose trousers, but there was no disguising what he was. Like all of Kalasien’s men, he was a soldier through and through, and growing out their hair and changing their clothes would not conceal that.

Ho, Haverd, Quellan said in greeting. Come to get a view of our destination? We’re coming up on the harbor fast.

The soldier’s expression remained as blank as if it had been chiseled from stone. Kalasien says you should all get below before the harbor pilot arrives, he said. We’re to avoid notice by the local authorities when possible.

Bredan looked out and saw the small vessel that was approaching from one of the towers that flanked the harbor mouth. He’d missed it earlier, but Kalasien struck him as the sort of man who missed very little. He lingered for a moment while the others descended from the forward deck. He gave the approaching city one more look. He hoped that Kosk was wrong, that this time they would avoid trouble, and their visit to Li Syval would be uneventful and brief.

* * * * *

Chapter 5

The section of docks where the Wavefarer was berthed had ten times the level of activity as the wharf in Colverston, with twenty times the stench. As Bredan and his companions came up onto the deck of the caravel, they were greeted by a wall of noise that rocked them back on their heels. From their vantage they could see dozens of ships, most of them only visible as part of a sea of masts that rose up out of the clutter. People were everywhere: fishermen, merchants, teamsters, stevedores, guards, and hundreds of others whose professions were not immediately discernable. Palanquins with interiors concealed by hanging curtains wove through the crowd on the backs of muscled bearers, while carts and wagons ventured the apparently impossible task of pushing through the crowd.

Bredan turned to see a massive ship that dwarfed the Wavefarer tied up at the next dock over. He now understood what Xeeta was getting at earlier; the giant galley made the Arreshian caravel seem like a toy by comparison.

Kalasien grabbed Bredan’s sleeve and pulled him back a moment before a sailor bearing a bolt of cloth would have collided into him. The warrior sheepishly joined the rest of the group in a temporarily sheltered space in the lee of the aft deck. Remember, Kalasien told them. Stay close, don’t wander off, don’t engage with the locals, and above all, don’t talk about our mission where anyone could possibly hear.

Who could hear anything over all this? Glori asked.

There are people who can read lips, Kalasien said. At first the adventurers just looked at him, thinking maybe he was teasing them, but then they noticed that he had deliberately placed himself where no one on the dock could see his face.

The inn is not far, he said. Rooms have already been arranged, we have a whole wing to ourselves.

Won’t that draw notice? Kosk asked. The dwarf looked uncomfortable, clad in the plain garb of a common servant. He was carrying a large chest that supposedly held the samples that the merchant, played by Kalasien, had brought to Li Syval to trade. The Arreshian agent wore a rich doublet with a silk shirt peeking out at the cuffs and collar, and a fur-lined cloak that was gratuitous in the heat slung over one shoulder. As he made his way to the gangplank, preceded by Haverd, he looked exactly like one of the wealthy merchants Bredan had seen in Severon.

The company made its way slowly into the press of humanity. Haverd, Elias, and Kavin, playing the part of merchant guards, opened a path for the others to follow. Though perhaps it was more Quellan’s presence. The cleric did not push anyone, but people tended to get out of the way when they saw the armored half-orc approaching.

Bredan realized that he should probably join them; he too was supposed to be a guard as part of their cover. He had put together a scabbard for his sword on the ship, and now wore the heavy weapon slung across his back. Here there was no need to keep weapons hidden; in fact, it looked like it was better to be obvious. Many of the people in the crowd were armed, and most of the men who were dressed in finery had at least a few guards close around them, glaring at anyone who got too close to their charges.

Such glares were probably futile; it was impossible to make it through this crowd without being jostled. Bredan abandoned any thoughts of joining the soldiers and instead focused on two things: keeping up, and keeping his purse. He remained close to Xeeta and Glori, who were walking in the shadow of the merchant, their eyes lowered from the gazes of the men in the crowd. Kalasien had briefed them all about how to behave in Li Syval, and no one seemed to be paying them any particular attention, but Bredan still felt self-conscious as he made his way through the press of humanity that was the city’s docks district.

Fortunately, the inn was as close as Kalasien had promised. They had only gone a few streets back from the docks, the din still clearly audible behind them, when they came to a sprawling two-story structure that appeared to take up most of a city block. The weathered sign showed a disconsolate sailor sitting atop a barrel, with the legend under it stating that this was The Seaman’s Lament.

The interior of the inn was comfortable and welcoming. Twelve long tables dominated the common space, while a row of booths with curtains that could be drawn for privacy stood along the wall to the right. Directly ahead of them was a curving bar that shone with polish. Most of the patrons were gathered there. It was still a bit early for the evening rush, although there were enough customers to keep the two bartenders busy.

Wait here, Kalasien said before heading over to greet a stout, balding man who had to be the innkeeper. He greeted the Arreshian agent like an old friend, though Bredan did not miss the subtle gesture by which a purse changed hands. The others waited near the door. A bouncer clad in a leather jerkin stretched tight over his expansive shoulders watched them intently, giving Bredan’s sword