Chapter 33

Westmarket District, Oldtown

The troll, Toolie, led Quinn through the warren of streets that made up Westmarket. The district was the oldest part of the city. A good number of the buildings were constructed of wood, some still showing the burn marks of the fire some hundreds of years ago that burned the rest of the city to the ground. After that fire, most clans, as soon as they had gained enough coins, built their compounds of stone and brick.

The big female strode along silently toward her clan’s compound. She kept to herself any thoughts or questions she had about the day’s events. Her silence suited Quinn. He was feeling increasingly anxious. The situation was layered with complexity—plotters behind plotters. He didn’t for a minute believe the Guildmaster was anything more than a pawn in some other beings’ master planning. Quinn knew he wasn’t good at Machiavellian maneuvering. He preferred straightforward action. Go here, catch this bad being and stop it from hurting other beings.

Another thought occurred to him. He knew someone who reveled in the twist and turns of conspiracies—the Vampire.

“How much further, Mistress?”

“We are here, Master. If you wait here, I will fetch my sister Ooona.” She pushed past two gangly seven-foot younglings who were guarding the gate to the compound. They gave him a hard look. Quinn read them instantly. A mere human male could provide some sport to liven up a boring afternoon of duty.

Quinn didn’t want to hurt them, so he moved across the lane and hoisted himself up on a hitching rail beside two sleepy mules.

Three grimy preteen street urchins were coming down the lane playing a game of keep-away. Running and yelling as they tossed a home-made ball. One of them went up to reach for an errant toss and ran into him. She snatched a roll of pennies out of his pocket and the three laughed and scampered away.

That was interesting. The female had signed to him that the last street sighting of Wraith was in the old labor exchange building down by the river. He frowned, this mission had him running back and forth across the city like a taxi service.

Toolie came out of the compound accompanied by a young female who looked exactly like her and an ancient female troll. The two young guards, when they spotted the elder, immediately sprang to attention and began glaring up and down and around like a threat was imminent.

Quinn stood respectfully. “Singer and Song bless you Grandmother.”

She growled a rote response, “May you be blessed as well. My granddaughter tells me that you bear the Vísdómur’s mark.”

“Yes, grandmother.”

“Well, don’t dawdle, show me.”

Quinn extended his arm and showed her the tiny mark on his wrist. Trolls see far further into the infrared than humans can, Quinn knew the mark stood out like a neon sign to the troll elder.

The only sign it impressed her was a slight widening of her purple eyes.

“Humph. Why are you here mixing in our business, boy? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?”

“Because a storm is brewing, Yeree,” a stern voice sang from behind him. Quinn winced. Malak the Seer makes an appearance. “YOU should know that. YOU have contributed to its making. WE are going to have a talk about your clan’s overweening greed.”

The elderly troll’s face went ashen when she saw who spoke. She and the others dropped to their knees. The youngest of the two male’s tunic darkened as he wet himself. He began to moan in terror.

The Vísdómur were the patron goddesses of troll-kind. A visit from one of the Sisters was a once in many generations event. If the clan survived the visit, they would talk about this day for ages.

Malak mind whispered to Quinn, “Take the two sisters and get you hence and find the hex witch. She must wake the dragon lest this city be overrun. Go.”

Quinn wordlessly turned away to obey. He gestured to Toolie. She and the other female he presumed was her sister, Ooona, jumped up and started walking east. The further they walked from their compound, the faster their pace. Quinn figured they were grateful to get away from the judgment of the Seer. He didn’t blame them.

Ooona walked in front of her sister. Her downcast eyes kept sneaking looks at him. Quinn realized she was terrified.

“Mistress Tooli, please tell your sister not to be afraid. I won’t hurt either of you. Just lead me to where you took them and you can go about your day.”

An hour later, Ooona stopped at a nondescript building, moved close to her sister and whispered in her ear.