he struck. Perhaps we need to send a few smaller teams to investigate,” said Brannor.
The ensuing moments were silent , though the tension in the room was unrelenting.
When Gwineval rose, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes downcast. “Let us adjourn this meeting and conside r the working plan. The plan sounds prudent to me given the unusual circumstances. We will meet again tomorrow, though I assume it will be without our would-be leader.”
“I’m sorry, everyone. You’ ll understand when I get back,” Hemlock said and left the room without looking at any of the wizards. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in their eyes.
Chapter Two
A chalky sky clung stubbornly overhead as dusk descended over the marketplace. Hemlock knelt beside Tored in the shadow of a building which was located a short distance from the market. Since they thought the magic of the vials was being used to nullify Hemlock’s magic detection, they anticipated there would also be lookouts trying to follow her movements. Therefore, they abandoned their normal habits of rooftop observation in favor of a more conventional, yet, hopefully unanticipated, vantage point.
“We need to watch for this big guy that Jasper mentioned,” said Hemlock.
“Could that be him?” said Tored sharply, pointing.
Following his arm, Hemlock saw a tall, bulky man ambling toward the edge of the crowd. He was older than Hemlock expected, wearing a clean, white robe and a thin, oiled mustache of unusual length. His thinning gray hair was greased and combed to the side, and his eyes were recessed with dark, baggy flesh beneath them.
“He sure looks the part of a criminal. I’ve never seen him before,” said Hemlock.
Tored didn’t respond. Hemlock turned toward him, but he just stared at the man in the market.
I guess it’s the silent treatment, again.
“Okay, this must be the guy. I guess we’ll stay put unless he moves. It’s almost sundown,” Hemlock continued, trying to penetrate Tored’s sudden pensiveness.
The big man ambled about uncertainly, strolling toward a vendor’s cart for a few moments then slowly returning to his original position. Hemlock could see that the man was discreetly scanning his surroundings. She withdrew further into the shadows as the man glanced her way. Fearing Tored would be sighted, she reached to pull him back, but he was quicker than she anticipated and already found cover in the deep shadow.
“He’s anxious. It must be getting close.”
“But what are we looking for?” asked Tored.
“Anything unusual. I’m not sure, exactly.”
She saw the man slowly reach into his pocket. The glint of metal in his hand confirmed her suspicions.
“There’s the whistle,” she said.
The man began to move into the crowd. Hemlock glanced at Tored hurriedly as she stood and made to follow the man. She felt Tored rise beside her.
She dashed toward the market while doing her best to keep sight of the man. When the whistle sounded, a chorus of magical signatures burst forth all around her, but she ignored them.
She and Tored paused behind a foot cart as they watched the white robed man move through the crowd toward a distant street.
“He’s not doing anything unusual,” said Hemlock.
“No, he’s just walking,” said Tored.
“Maybe whatever I’m not supposed to be aware of isn’t happening here.”
“A good thought. We should stay with him,” said Tored, rising.
Hemlock followed Tored into the shadows, making sure she could still see the white robed man at all times.
A person shuffled across Hemlock’s path while not looking where they were going. Hemlock drew to a halt as the person turned and bumped into her. It was a cutpurse Hemlock knew on sight and by smell, as the man had a unique, acrid odor. The cutpurse’s eyes went wide with recognition as Hemlock smashed him in the side of his head with the hilt of her sabre. As the thief crumpled
The ensuing moments were silent , though the tension in the room was unrelenting.
When Gwineval rose, his shoulders were slumped and his eyes downcast. “Let us adjourn this meeting and conside r the working plan. The plan sounds prudent to me given the unusual circumstances. We will meet again tomorrow, though I assume it will be without our would-be leader.”
“I’m sorry, everyone. You’ ll understand when I get back,” Hemlock said and left the room without looking at any of the wizards. She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment in their eyes.
Chapter Two
A chalky sky clung stubbornly overhead as dusk descended over the marketplace. Hemlock knelt beside Tored in the shadow of a building which was located a short distance from the market. Since they thought the magic of the vials was being used to nullify Hemlock’s magic detection, they anticipated there would also be lookouts trying to follow her movements. Therefore, they abandoned their normal habits of rooftop observation in favor of a more conventional, yet, hopefully unanticipated, vantage point.
“We need to watch for this big guy that Jasper mentioned,” said Hemlock.
“Could that be him?” said Tored sharply, pointing.
Following his arm, Hemlock saw a tall, bulky man ambling toward the edge of the crowd. He was older than Hemlock expected, wearing a clean, white robe and a thin, oiled mustache of unusual length. His thinning gray hair was greased and combed to the side, and his eyes were recessed with dark, baggy flesh beneath them.
“He sure looks the part of a criminal. I’ve never seen him before,” said Hemlock.
Tored didn’t respond. Hemlock turned toward him, but he just stared at the man in the market.
I guess it’s the silent treatment, again.
“Okay, this must be the guy. I guess we’ll stay put unless he moves. It’s almost sundown,” Hemlock continued, trying to penetrate Tored’s sudden pensiveness.
The big man ambled about uncertainly, strolling toward a vendor’s cart for a few moments then slowly returning to his original position. Hemlock could see that the man was discreetly scanning his surroundings. She withdrew further into the shadows as the man glanced her way. Fearing Tored would be sighted, she reached to pull him back, but he was quicker than she anticipated and already found cover in the deep shadow.
“He’s anxious. It must be getting close.”
“But what are we looking for?” asked Tored.
“Anything unusual. I’m not sure, exactly.”
She saw the man slowly reach into his pocket. The glint of metal in his hand confirmed her suspicions.
“There’s the whistle,” she said.
The man began to move into the crowd. Hemlock glanced at Tored hurriedly as she stood and made to follow the man. She felt Tored rise beside her.
She dashed toward the market while doing her best to keep sight of the man. When the whistle sounded, a chorus of magical signatures burst forth all around her, but she ignored them.
She and Tored paused behind a foot cart as they watched the white robed man move through the crowd toward a distant street.
“He’s not doing anything unusual,” said Hemlock.
“No, he’s just walking,” said Tored.
“Maybe whatever I’m not supposed to be aware of isn’t happening here.”
“A good thought. We should stay with him,” said Tored, rising.
Hemlock followed Tored into the shadows, making sure she could still see the white robed man at all times.
A person shuffled across Hemlock’s path while not looking where they were going. Hemlock drew to a halt as the person turned and bumped into her. It was a cutpurse Hemlock knew on sight and by smell, as the man had a unique, acrid odor. The cutpurse’s eyes went wide with recognition as Hemlock smashed him in the side of his head with the hilt of her sabre. As the thief crumpled
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