The Curse of the Compass

By Alice G Bjornstedt

The fifth installment of the Orlell Chronicles takes to the high seas on uncharted waters. In service to the Dricaster Crime Ring, a prolific bounty hunter and a charismatic pirate captain embark on a mission to find a mysterious compass. Their journey leads them to cross paths with a ranger and his apprentice, seeking the elusive Elven outlaw T

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice G. Bjornstedt
• Release date: Feb 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989103409

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Text copyright © 2024 Alice G. Bjornstedt

Book design by Alice G. Bjornstedt

Published in 2024 by IngramSpark.

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design 2024 by Alice G. Bjornstedt.

Cover image courtesy of iStock, contributed by breakermaximus.

Image ID: 484296164

Ship Diagram 2023 by Alice G. Bjornstedt

Map: Southern Coast of Daffodalion 2023 by Alice G. Bjornstedt

Section of Break, Break, Break by Alfred Lord Tennyson, published 1842. Public domain.

ISBN: 978-1-7375262-9-2

Also in the Orlell Chronicles

Book 1 - Guardians of Gayrile

Book 2 - The Jewel of Power

Book 3 - The Quest for Drisilas

Book 4 - The Shard and the Shadow

Book 5 - The Curse of the Compass

Book 6 - coming soon!

The Orlell Chronicles

Book 5

The

Curse

of the

Compass

Alice G. Bjornstedt

Southern Coast of Daffodalion

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W

E

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Table of Contents

Part 1 - The Rylander Spy.....................................................................................9

Prologue....................................................................................................................11

1-Opportunity.........................................................................................................16

2-Ringmember Trelawney...................................................................................29

3-The Informant....................................................................................................38

4-The Burman Marie............................................................................................50

5-A Course Southeast...........................................................................................60

6-A Whisper of Wavers.......................................................................................70

7-The Blood Swan.................................................................................................77

8- Stone and Ship...................................................................................................93

9-News From the Far East...............................................................................111

10-The Bosun’s Tale..........................................................................................121

11-Esile City.........................................................................................................132

12-Port Rylan......................................................................................................144

13-Brethren Broken............................................................................................160

14-The Spy Unmasked.......................................................................................168

15-An Old Adversary.........................................................................................180

Part 2 - Dricaster Traitor.................................................................................197

16-Drynrall Island.............................................................................................198

17-Darker Magic.................................................................................................213

18-The Captives...................................................................................................223

19-Outcast.............................................................................................................238

20-The Road to Westerlyn...............................................................................250

21-Red and Scarlet.............................................................................................264

22-The Black Raven...........................................................................................281

23-Fire and Steel.................................................................................................294

24-Old Allies Not Forgotten............................................................................304

25-Parley With Dakrind...................................................................................318

26-Questions Answered....................................................................................334

Part 3 - The Second Employer.........................................................................349

27-Protectors........................................................................................................351

28-Days at Sea.....................................................................................................364

29-Esile Waiting..................................................................................................377

30-Esile Burning.................................................................................................392

31-The Cursed.....................................................................................................405

32-A Report for the Randuins..........................................................................420

33-A Captain for the Consort...........................................................................430

34-Task Completed.............................................................................................440

Epilogue.................................................................................................................448

Glossary/Pronunciation Guide.......................................................................450

Acknowledgments...............................................................................................453

Break, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter

The thoughts that arise in me.

And the stately ships go on,

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanished hand,

And the sound of a voice that is still.

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead

Will never come back to me.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson, abridged

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Part 1

The Rylander Spy

Prologue

The port of Esile City, on the eve of the New Year…

The clock read five minutes to midnight, and thus three people were marked for death.

Snow spotted the dark wood of the ships in the harbor. A winter gale caught the canvas sails of an approaching ship, sending them billowing. Inland, the starry sky outlined the tall buildings of Esile City. Cheery yellow light filled the interiors of the buildings, occupied by boisterous crowds celebrating the coming of the new year. On the streets below, a few beggars huddled beneath the awnings of the large structures, drawing their ragged garments closer about them as the first flakes fell.

A midnight snow on a midwinter’s night, lovely and deadly at once, stealing the warmth and breath of the beggars as they drifted in and out of dreams.

The beggars were the only ones who might have seen Bryn Valetown moving from rooftop to rooftop, agile as a cat.

The winter wind caught her black cloak, sent it billowing behind her, but never enough to reveal her face beneath her hood. The darkness concealed her features well enough, but one could never be too careful. The lantern light from the streets below glinted off the small red pin in the lining of her jacket, the mark of a Dricaster Ringmember.

From her vantage point, the sprawling mass of Esile City appeared as nothing more than a trail of snow-speckled shingles and chimneys belching gray smoke. Aside from the faint conversations within a few inns, all was calm. By day, the city bustled and thundered with traffic and activity, common in a principal Daffonic port.

By night, it was another thing entirely. By night, the Dricaster Crime Ring ruled all.

Bryn slipped into the shadow of a chimney, next to the upstairs window. Through the curtains, the sleeping inhabitants were barely visible, apparently not much interested in the New Year’s celebrations. Ignorant, fat, happy homeowners fast asleep in their towering mansion. Their home, like others nearby, was right next to the oil factories and sweat shops, where the poor lived and worked and died in the rancid smoke.

Three minutes to midnight.

She sprang to the next rooftop, gathered her balance, and kept moving, silent as the falling snow. Snow was dangerous. It made the tiled roof slippery under her boots, threatened to send her sliding to the road below. That would mean certain death, of course, whether or not she survived the fall. The town guard might be preoccupied with holiday festivities, but they would seize the opportunity to catch an assassin in the act.

She leapt to another rooftop and crouched in the shadows. The filthy, grease-streaked window at her left elbow caught her reflection in the pale light, her dark eyes shadowed beneath the hood covering her black hair. She heard soldiers patrolling the block behind her and thought briefly how much they’d pay to see her face, to include it on the wanted posters and increase the chance of her arrest.

Bryn turned her gaze from the dirty window and looked across the street. The clock tower loomed before her. A triumph of technology and the pride of Esile City, it overlooked the rest of the township. No matter where one stood in the city, its chimes were audible.

Next to the clock stood Merrit’s Front, a three-story, first-class inn sought after by every visiting well-to-do. She was level with the inn’s top story windows. Bright light filled the room nearest to her, and she could hear the loud excited voices of men inside.

They spoke the Gevarian tongue, which confirmed what she had assumed by now. Crime lords. Gevari Fief had been built on mining, but the highest form of wealth came from the empire that was the greenstalk trade. The illegal drug brought in high profits for crime lords. They had gathered tonight to celebrate another good year of business. At this hour, their enjoyment was at its peak, heightened by food and drink and other, stronger substances.

A man reeled against the open window sill as she sat watching. His face was flushed with mirth in the lantern light as he inhaled the night air. It was the same face carefully drawn on the scroll she had taken upon accepting the job. She smiled slightly to herself as she recognized him. There was the target, unsuspecting of the danger.

It would be a straight, clean shot if she took it now, but there were other factors she must consider. Two guards stood on either side of the balcony of the clock tower next to the inn. Both had crossbows. In the dim light, she doubted they would see her, but it was not a risk she was willing to take.

She nocked a black-feathered arrow to her string, drew back, sighted, let out a breath. Released. The arrow spanned the twenty-yard distance and passed through the neck of the guard on the right; his knees buckled and he fell against the tower railing with a faint rattle.

One minute to midnight.

She noticed with irritation that the target had gone back inside the inn. She would deal with him later. The second guard had glanced around uneasily as he heard his companion fall, raising his crossbow slightly. Her second arrow felled him before he could see his fallen comrade or sound the alarm. He slumped forward against the railing. Unluckily, his crossbow slipped through the gaps in the rail and fell, clattering loudly on the road below.

Two guards dead. A sudden thought seemed to barge into her mind, surging from a distant corner of her conscience that usually remained silent on missions like tonight. They hadn’t been a threat. They hadn’t even seen her, crouched where she was on the opposite roof.

No. She shook herself slightly, as though to clear the thoughts from her mind. Where had those doubts come from? The guards were a security threat, she reminded herself. They interfered with her ability to successfully execute the crime lord and, thus, complete the job she’d been hired to do.

The target had returned to the window, having heard the clatter of the crossbow falling. He stood there, looking dazedly at the clock tower, his inebriated mind trying to make sense of what he had heard.

She raised her bow a third time and let the shot fly with a dull thrum.

The crime lord jerked back under the impact; already dead, he reeled forward and toppled through the open window.

The chimes of the clock striking the first hour of the new year concealed the sound of his body hitting the ground. Lilting notes rang through the snowy air. Cheers rose from within Merrit’s Front, joining the joyful voices that rose over the city.

Bryn leaned back against the roof, unsure where that moment of weakness had come from. Years of service to the Dricaster Crime Ring should have snuffed out any such concerns. She could not feel regret for what had been done, not after all this time.

All the same, that moment of uncertainty and doubt had stifled the victory she usually felt after completing a mission.

She listened for a few moments until she was certain her presence was unnoticed. Then she turned and headed back the way she had come, slipping through the shadows toward the harbor.

No one seemed to notice the sudden disappearance of the crime lord inside the inn. Nor, she assumed, would they notice for a good while. Not until the excitement of their celebrations had died down, or someone tripped over the body on the street. Then they would call for the town guard, examine the black-feathered arrow, remove the body. Perhaps they would seek for signs of the suspect on the surrounding roads and roofs, signs that would be covered in minutes by snow.

By then, he would be yesterday’s bounty. She’d be long gone.

1

Opportunity

The wind had changed. Now it blew northward, away from the restless sea as though fleeing from the coming storm. Bryn heard the sailors in the square speaking in muttered tones. Bad luck, that is, one of them commented, shaking his head.

His companions agreed. Aye. Bad luck to have a north wind this early in season.

The way to Mata City will be nigh impassible—you’d hardly get up the Strait in a gale like this, another sailor commented grimly.

Bryn shifted her position on the snow-dusted bench on the edge of the square. The wind was no more gusty than last night, but it was an old Esilian superstition—starting the new year on a northerly breeze was bad luck.

Bundled forms brushed shoulder to shoulder, hurrying through the haze of damp to different stores and vendors that made up the city square. To the left, the main road of Esile dipped downward toward the harbor. The sea stretched on in an endless carpet of gray water, the horizon muddling with the gray of the sky.

Bryn watched the sailors disappear into the crowds. A breath of cold air chilled her neck, and she drew her cloak closer, both guarding against the chilly breeze and to hide the bow and quiver at her side. The wind brought the strong salty scent of the sea, accompanied by the lingering smoke from the busy factories. The bustling city was far different from the small forest town of her childhood.

She allowed herself a wry smile. First her hesitation during the mission last night, and now these reminiscent thoughts. She attributed it to the long night. At least the late mission had kept the dream away; that recurring dream made it impossible to feel rested. A dream without a palpable start or ending, where she found herself in the middle before realizing it had begun.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and images swam through her mind. A house burning around her. A figure speaking to her, scolding, the words muted. Her hand closed around someone else’s, gripped in an unspoken promise.

I’m not going to leave you.

Yet before the dream ended, she felt the hand leave her own, and she stood alone in the burning room until waking, thankfully, ended the vision.

Got the stuff, Valetown. Mads’ drawling tone made her sit up. The Dwarve shuffled forward, hunched under the weight of two sacks of flour. His left leg was permanently twisted from an old injury, the toe trailing uselessly in the snow behind him. The injury, Bryn thought, had made him even more bad-tempered, though she couldn’t imagine him ever having an agreeable mood.

What’re you doing, napping? he asked dryly, setting the flour sacks on the bench and stretching. Give me a hand here, and let’s get out of this wind.

Bryn stood. I was keeping watch. Not a bad thing to do now that it’s daylight, you know.

Eh, the Dricasters own the town either way, Mads said absently, straightening his woolen cap.

Maybe. But the town guard patrol for the Capital nonetheless. Bryn adjusted her cloak so that it still covered her bow and quiver, then picked up one of the flour sacks. Besides, our names are still on the post, so it pays to keep an eye out.

She nodded at the post, which stood in the center of the square. Numerous sheets of paper had been tacked to it by the town guard. Esile City, as a principle port of the west, carried information from all parts of the world: who was king and where, new rules and regulations at the start of the new year, ships or items available for sale. And, as ever, posters displaying criminals and outlaws, wanted for a variety of crimes.

Mads stole a worried glance at the wanted posters. But he recovered quickly. Naw, they won’t have my name. I haven’t been out in the field for years, you know that. Not since that Light-blasted cart accident. He spat on the ground angrily, as if the very mention of the injury was a foul taste, then glanced up at Bryn. Still, makes sense you’re careful. You took out that Gevarian Mudger last night, didn’t ya?

Keep your voice down. The town guard might be incompetent, but they aren’t deaf.

And they wouldn’t be inclined to like you, neither. Heard you got two guards along with the Mudger. Mads raised his eyebrows, his weathered face holding a light of interest. How much was the bounty on him, anyhow? Three hundred? Four?

Not enough to keep me from killing you, if you don’t shut it. Bryn strode ahead of him, shifting the flour sack to her other shoulder. The older man shuffled after her, cursing under his breath as his bad foot dragged in the snow.

By daylight, no one would know they were Ringmembers. Civilians moved past them without a second glance—an irritable, shabbily dressed cripple, and a dark-haired woman whose worn cloak concealed her weapons.

The three bodies had been removed from the scene, but Bryn felt a twinge of uneasiness as she and Mads passed Merrit’s Front. Five town guardsmen stood at attention by the door while their captain spoke with the inn keeper.

Reason reasserted itself in her mind before the unease spiraled to anxiety. The town guard were nothing to worry about. The target had been a wanted criminal himself. The death of a wealthy Mudger—the common term for a greenstalk dealer—might raise the interest of the Esile Council, but they would pay little attention to the event besides that. Mudgers killed each other all the time. Waging invisible wars with their competitors, they placed high bounties on the heads of their rivals. The bounty she’d killed last night must have had powerful enemies, enemies wealthy enough to enlist the help of the Dricaster Brethren.

More posters peppered the wall next to the inn. Bryn’s eyes landed on one—a familiar sight by now. The poster was written in Erinian runes, which she was still learning, but she knew it read the following:

WANTED

DEAD or ALIVE

A miss BRYN VALETOWN

On accounts of SMUGGLING and MURDER

REWARD of 500 lupin

You’ve gone up in price, Valetown, Mads muttered from behind. Last one said only two hundred lupin, weren’t it?

It doesn’t matter, Bryn said. The Esile Council had her name by now; a past employer must have let it slip. Her reputation as an archer, and the illegal oversized broadheads she used, would connect her to the crime. But the Council did not know her face. No town guardsman could identify her unless they saw her in action, and no bounty hunter would come after her without a face to seek.

The latter thought was an unnecessary fear. Working for the Dricasters meant that she was protected from other bounty hunters along most of the southwestern coast. The Dricaster Brethren were a powerful Crime Ring, able to protect their own, as long as their own remained loyal.

Bryn turned onto Third Street and stopped in front of the hat shop so Mads could catch up. The building was a little shorter than the rest of the shops, two stories tall, and so old that the roof bowed downward from the weight of the snow. Its front windows were streaked with grime, the sign within barely legible: Closed for Repairs.

We’ve had that sign up for years, Bryn commented. You’d think people would expect to see construction.

Take it up with Dakrind, then, Mads said, unconcerned. Maybe he’ll put up a new sign.

Bryn followed him inside. The sign was only there for effect, of course. As far as she knew, no one ever paid much interest to the hat shop in the first place. Placed just off the main thoroughfare, it hunched in the shadows. Hidden in plain sight. Much like the group that inhabited it.

The bell above the door gave a dismal ting as she and Mads entered. Large crates covered in dust filled the front room. Mostly empty bookshelves occupied the space behind the counter. A few shelves held hats, the style of which were so outdated that Bryn guessed they had been here back when the shop had been in business. But that would have been decades ago.

A fat man sat behind the counter and looked up dully as they entered. Name? he grunted.

Mads and Valetown, reporting back, Mads said.

Mads who? the fat man asked.

Me, the Dwarve snapped. Now get on with it, Noll, so we can warm up. It’s cold as caskets out there.

Noll shrugged. Sorry about that. Chief wants extra security now. On account of them Rylanders, ye know.

He pulled a hidden lever under the table top. The second bookshelf down the row behind him clicked and swung forward.

Rylanders? Mads repeated, looking at Noll with a frown. What do you mean?

The fat man shrugged again. Eh, maybe talk to Chief about that. Don’t know much. Just know that there’s extra security now.

Bryn held the door open with the toe of her boot, only mildly interested in the news. The Rylanders—a rival Crime Ring to the south—frequently caused trouble for the Dricaster Brethren. But they rarely came as far west as Esile City.

Thoughts of Rylanders were driven away as they descended into the brightness and activity below. A short flight of stairs led from the hidden door above into a wide room. The basement of the hat shop was much larger than the shop itself. Doors led away from the central meeting hall to separate rooms. Rows of tables and benches lined the walls. A scattered crowd of Ringmembers milled around the room, some eating, others talking in lowered tones.

The pantry was directly to the left, and they deposited the flour sacks inside. Mads stretched his back painfully. I’m off for a drink now. What’ve you got left?

My day’s nearly done, Bryn told him. I just have to check in with Dakrind.

Not bad, Mads snorted enviously. The night shift agreeing with you, then?

Well enough, Bryn replied curtly. She turned and swept through the meeting hall. The far wall held a solid wooden door leading to the office of their supervisor. Supervisor, her mind echoed. That was far too tame a word for this type of work.

She squared her shoulders and knocked briskly on the door in the same way she had for the last fourteen years.

Come in, Valetown. Dakrind’s low drawl reached her ears, and she obeyed. His uncanny accuracy to predict whoever was at his door was normal to her now. Some of the younger recruits called it magic, and said he could see the future. Bryn highly doubted that—but then again, she had never believed in such things anyway.

Hawk Dakrind, the leader of the Dricaster Crime Ring, sat in a wide-backed armchair sharpening his curved sword. He was clean-shaven, his long black hair twisted into a mane of braids with golden beads that clinked slightly. His skin was deep brown, and his amber eyes echoed a desert-dweller’s heritage. While his height and muscular build made him intimidating by outward appearances, the only part of him that truly chilled Bryn were those eyes. Not for what they held, but for what they lacked—not a trace of regard for life or pity for others. His was a bloodthirsty, cunning nature, and it showed in his eyes.

Ah, Valetown, he said, setting his sword and whetstone aside. I assume your task has been completed?

Bryn nodded. Task completed around midnight last night. No witnesses. Two additional hostiles taken down in the act.

Two hostiles? Dakrind repeated, arching an eyebrow.

Yes, sir. Two guards on the clock tower. They were a potential security risk and interfered with the shot. Bryn fidgeted with the small red pin within her coat, the badge of a Dricaster. The words felt stiff and formal. It was a polite way of saying I had to kill them so they didn’t sound the alarm.

Well, then, Dakrind said, leaning back in his chair. That was well done. I shall contact the employer about your reward. It was quite a bounty.

Yes, sir, Bryn replied. The statement helped her forget about the lingering regret over killing the guards last night. It was unpleasant. But it had been necessary so that her task would be successful. It was a truth that had been drilled into her in the last fourteen years—nearly fifteen years, she thought absently—as a bounty hunter.

Dakrind stood and turned up the oil lamp, allowing yellow light to fill the room. Have you any news you wish to share?

Bryn thought for a moment. The wind’s changed—a north gale. You know the superstition, I assume.

Hawk Dakrind was a pirate captain himself. As such, he paid far more attention to the wind’s patterns than Bryn did. But he looked unconcerned as she mentioned it. Indeed. But I have never trusted luck to the whims of the wind. I believe our luck is quite good, as times would have it.

Even with the border patrol tightening again? Bryn asked.

Dakrind glanced at her. The news has come this way at last, then?

Mads mentioned it on our way to the market. Something about jobs being harder, now that Caer Sia is back on its feet. Bryn studied him carefully, trying to read his expression. There was no reaction. Dakrind only nodded.

That is to be expected, he said. What have you heard thus far about the situation in Caer Sia, Valetown?

Bryn pushed a loose strand of dark hair away from her face as she thought. Different news about the Coonsian capital had circulated for months, each report more far-fetched than the next. No one knows for sure what happened. All we know is that the city was out of action for a month or so. She adjusted her quiver strap. There’s been all sorts of guesses, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Some people blame the Jenna, some people said it was a warlord. And, of course, there are all sorts of theories that it was something… otherworldly.

There are indeed, Dakrind said with a chuckle. Well, whatever it was, it’s no matter to us. What matters is the fact that during that month, the Rings were able to do business freely across the border, within Coonsia. Now that the Liznees have regained control, they have tightened security again, and that means fewer jobs for the Rings.

Bryn nodded. During that one-month period, activity over the Coonsian border had become easier between Crime Rings. Now that things were getting back to normal, most business within Coonsia had ceased. But the Dricasters were powerful enough in this part of Daffodalion to stay in business. She guessed this was what Dakrind was getting at. Are there any missions available now? she asked.

Only a few, and I doubt anything worth your while, Dakrind said, sinking back into his chair, causing the many gold beads in his hair to clink. But I have a proposition for you. One of our Ringmembers has recently accepted a rather… unusual task. He’s gathering a team, and he needs one more member.

Bryn frowned slightly. I don’t work in teams.

I know you don’t, Dakrind drawled. But you might want to consider it, at the very least. The Ringmember is providing the ship. It’s protection he needs for the venture, and I think you’d be up for the job. He smiled. He’ll be here come evening to talk it all through. Pass it by or accept, but I can assure you, it might be some time before you get another assignment that pays this highly. He paused, clearly waiting for her to ask the question.

Bryn hesitated until her curiosity got the better of her. How much?

Six hundred lupin, Dakrind said, drawing the words out slowly to add emphasis.

Bryn raised her eyebrows. Per Ringmember?

Per Ringmember, Dakrind confirmed, smiling again. I can’t tell you much more, naturally—Ringmember security and all that. But think about it.

Bryn nodded slowly. His mention of security reminded her of the guard’s words earlier, and she turned back to him. There was one other thing, sir. Noll mentioned extra security because of Rylanders?

Dakrind’s face darkened, as it always did at mention of the rival Crime Ring. There are spies among us, Valetown, he said shortly. As ever, you are to report any suspicious activity to me. For the good of the Brethren.

The good of the Brethren, Bryn echoed in agreement, then added, Are the Rylanders so bold that they come this far west? Esile City is miles from their territory.

Dakrind scooped up a stack of papers on his desk and sifted through them. I’m not entirely certain what the Rylanders are planning. As I hear it, the Rylanders are interested in a bounty—the very same bounty I ask you to consider. He smiled coldly. Perhaps you should consider it further.

Bryn’s interest was piqued, but she tried not to show it, only nodded to Dakrind and left the room. She had never collaborated with any other Ringmembers. Except for Mads, but that was just to escort him through town because he was too afraid he’d be arrested otherwise. These tasks, these jobs… they were too dangerous for more than one person. Dangerous for both herself and her potential partner.

But this job must be something different, she mused as she entered the snow-flecked streets again. Something that needed multiple able-bodied Ringmembers to successfully complete it. Something that needed a ship and a crew. Something that the Rylander Brethren was interested in, too.

Something important enough that the employer would pay anyone who completed it six hundred lupin.

That fact nagged in her brain as she thought. It was too much. No one paid that much for bounties—not even the Esile Council, who dabbled in Ring activity every now and then. Perhaps the entire job was a scam, and the employer planned to run before paying up. That happened occasionally, which provided frequent jobs for a bounty hunter like herself. Maybe the employer didn’t plan to pay them at all.

Or maybe he was counting on another factor all together. Multiple Ringmembers working on the same job never ended well, no matter if they were all paid equally.

Bryn remembered a situation in the past. A crime lord had placed a large reward on the job. Thanks to the temptation, multiple Ringmembers had accepted the task. But, as was to be expected, the hunters eventually turned on each other, each eager to complete the bounty for his own reputation and gain. In the end, the crime lord had only one man to pay—the hunter who had killed all his other companions.

The fact that rival hunters were after the bounty made Bryn almost certain in her guess. Likely, the nature of this job ensured that only one Ringmember would return alive.

2

Ringmember Trelawney

By evening, Bryn had returned to Dakrind’s office.

She had spent the afternoon alone, as usual. She’d left the Dricaster Headquarters and headed to her quiet little apartment downhill from the hat shop. She had boarded up the cracks in the windows to keep some of the damp out, but a bitter chill filled the flat. After she lit the fire, she managed a few hours of rest in the smoke-filled room.

The dream came in brief fragments. The little cold hand gripped in her own, the flames at the end, and the brisk scolding voice. The voice had seemed louder this time, familiar, reminiscent of another, long ago.

Fear is weakness. Hide it away or you offer your opponent a valuable advantage.

Her voice had trembled, her eyes wide, filled with the nervous curiosity of her six-year-old self. I’m ready, Papa.

Not you, Brynlee. Not now. His heavy hand rested on her tousled hair, brushed her aside. The hand she held vanished as her companion was pulled away by their father. Her father’s attention was not for her. It never had been.

Fear is weakness, her father’s voice echoed in her brain as she entered the hat shop. How true that had become over the last few years of working for the Dricaster Brethren.

The fat guard, Noll, sat in his usual place. He seemed more on edge than normal. Name? he asked briskly as Bryn entered.

Bryn Valetown, come to meet with Dakrind, Bryn said with an impatient sigh. "Honestly.