ale watched the small knot of red cloaks disappear towards the docks. Kouric had her by the good arm, or she would have followed them. When they were gone from sight, Kouric lifted her limp hand and flexed her fingers. He pressed his hands around the swelling joint and sighed.

“Need a monk for this.” Kouric saw the sadness on her face. “You actually like Gared? That weak willed idiot? You saw him, drunk and defenseless….”

“He’s a good man.”

“He’s Iron Thorn scum. Maybe the nicest of them but still only good for catapult practice.”

“He wanted to leave.”

“Then why didn’t he?”

“Let’s find a monk…and then I can tell you why. I am going to save him.” Dale picked up her dagger and sheathed it with her good hand. A pair of curious krytans backed away from them as they walked towards the great central fountain, wolf in tow. She finally saw the plain ascetic robes of a healer sitting on the lip of the fountain.

“Hello there.”

The woman glanced up at them from whatever meditation she had been in. Her steel grey eyes gleamed in the silvery light of the fountain. Dale held out her arm demonstratively.

“I was wondering if you can help me?”

“I’m busy.” The monk said, though it was patently obvious she was doing nothing. Dale heard Kouric chuckle softly behind her. The old ranger sat down beside the monk and fumbled in his purse for a moment. He counted out a small stack of gold beside her.

“I am betting that you did not take a vow of poverty? Can you please help my friend here? Its dislocated pretty bad…and she’s planning on a suicidal mission to save someone, so she’ll need to be able to draw a bowstring at least up to the point where they cut her throat.”

The monk seemed more receptive but waited until Kouric counted out a few more coins. She had Dale sit down while she examined the joint. Dale made a hissing noise as the monk pulled on her arm slightly and then held it firmly in place. A soft bluish glow suffused the joint and there was abruptly no pain. Thankfully she wriggled her fingers and nodded.

“Thank you so much.”

“Get lost.” The monk shoveled the coins into her pocket. Dale was surprised at the harshness, but saw that Kouric was already diving through the crowds. She threaded through the people, cursing softly at Kouric’s habit of moving too quickly; it was like chasing the wind, even in a city. She saw him stop in the crowd and then turn back to her with a look of alarm. Red cloaked figures were striding along under the market canopy; when they saw Kouric’s distinctive figure they gave a shout. The crowds saw weapons and parted like pigeons before a falcon. Kouric grabbed Dale’s arm and they ran back towards the plaza and its fountain. Behind them she could hear the distinctive sound of armored men in pursuit. The Twistwood apparently took insults very seriously.

They had somehow managed to avoid being seen by stepping into a shabby inn on a back alley. A few seconds later the warriors rushed past with Pegard in the lead. Kouric watched the retreating backs through the door. “Its not like them to be that insulted. There’s something else going on here. Is it you I wonder?”

“Why would they want me?”

“Tell me why they want Gared.”

Dale was about to speak when she saw a slight figure outlined in the doorway; it was Oran. The accountant stared at her and then at Kouric. He darted out of the entry and back into the street.

“Who was that?”

“Its Oran…a steward of Iron Thorn…he’s up to something.” Presently she heard him out on the street calling out for Twistwood. “The devil! He’s bringing them down on us!”

Kouric dashed out of the inn and out on to the street. “Come on, let’s get lost…”

The pair of them fled into the crowds again, but everywhere they seemed to be, she saw Oran nearby; the little man was determined to see them captured. They were easy to spot with Serul chasing them, so she mentally told him to go stay by the fountain and stay safe. They fled into the docks and found a hiding place amid a jungle of stacked crates, crab pots and fishing nets. It was also a relief to be out of the sun and away from the prying eyes of others.

“I just don’t get it.” Dale panted as she listened to the continued hew and cry going on around the docks. Pegard was apparently a determined man. She saw red cloaks pause nearby and saw Oran talking to the lead warrior again. She thought back to the night in the ranger’s cottage south of Beacon’s Perch. Oran had been sleeping on the floor nearby as they spoke. It was likely that instead of sleeping, Oran had heard everything and sold out Gared. Oran must have told Twistwood about her and the fact she knew of the treasure; she suspected revenge over the matter of four thousand coins lost to Oran’s guild.

She was starting to feel secure in their hiding place when she saw one of the Twistwood men peering into their refuge. She inadvertently met his eye and there was a sharp shout. Dale and Kouric sprang out of cover, but as she scrambled over a crab pot her cloak was grabbed and Pegard pulled her up short. She saw a glow about Kouric’s figure and he vanished into the market.

“There you are. I should have guessed you were the girl with the little pig sticker.” Pegard held her still while the other men searched for and removed her weapons. She struggled and kicked, but it seemed to matter little to the big warrior. “I gather from the little rat-man that you are named Dale.”

“Yes.”

“Your companion of course is Kouric…and he appears to have taken to his heels like the streak of diarrhea that he is.” Pegard touched her throat and ran a hand across the smooth skin of her chest; his hand paused over her frantically beating heart. “It appears you know a few too many things about our mutual friend Gared…and my officers do not wish it to be generally known. I have been told to kill you, but I generally dislike killing young untried talent. It’s bad for trade.”

She struggled a little more. “I didn’t get a chance to tell Kouric, leave him alone.”

“Kouric…well I am sure he is ten miles away by now.” Pegard pulled her a little more tightly to himself. “Of course I have thought of something that will provide you with a fighting chance to survive. Don’t ever say that Twistwood is overly cruel when the alternative is I cut your throat now.”

One of his men drew a cloth over her head and tied her hands. Then she was carried across the district by Pelgard. She heard the hollow fall of feet on a dock and several soft voices greeting them. She was deposited on the rough wood like so many pounds of potatoes while those above her negotiated. She heard the price settle at one platinum. She cursed into her gag and kicked, just wanting to hurt someone, anyone at this point; she was tired of drawing the short stick. Fate could perhaps be kicked. A mailed foot jabbed her side.

“Don’t fight or it will be difficult for you. We only need your flesh if it comes to that, so unless you want your body and will broken, I suggest you cooperate.” The voice was flat and expressionless but the threat it contained was clear. She stopped struggling.

They lifted her and carried her onto a ship. In the dimness of her restraints she felt panic rising as she realized she had been put into a tiny space. It stank of pitch, blood and rot, an unnatural odor that caused her to gag and cough. She kicked at the door of the tiny room and found it to be quite solid though the hinges rattled. She fought the blind panic of being enclosed; presently she started to find it hard to breathe. She felt Serul’s mind now; the wolf had sensed something wrong and was anxious – his steady presence allowed her to snap out her panic. She reached out to command and guide him.

“Come.”

She sensed the surge of his body as he sprang to his feet and sped through the crowds. It seemed an eternity until she heard a commotion on the deck. She heard his familiar growls and a few people shouted, yet he did not tarry to fight them. Claws made a shearing noise as Serul plunged down the ladder with single minded speed.

“Serul!”

A heavy body rammed against the little door. The wood splintered with each blow until his teeth closed on a loose board and pulled. The door was wrenched off of its hinges. She felt Serul’s breath on her arm, his teeth delicately closed on her bindings and ripped them away. Dale hurried to get the sack off of her head just in time to see several figures coming down the narrow corridor. One of them wore armor that blazed gold in the dim conditions. All three wore red in abundance that gleamed with threads of gold. She had no idea who they were and no desire to find out.

“Give up now.”

Dale thought about being locked up and decided it was not going to happen. Beside her she could hear the wolf growling. There were three of them and none had weapons. She bulled forward towards the rectangle of light that was freedom. It was like ramming into a rock as the armored man stepped into her path. Dale fell back. They needed to escape but she knew killing was out of the question; she was nobody in this town and likely any such action would be treated as murder. She thought about how Drill would harry and tried to communicate this to her wolf. The big animal stepped between them with a loud snarl. Dale was delighted to see all three people take a step back in the face of Serul bristling and showing his impressive fangs. Dale charged again, this time ducking against the wall of the companionway.

“Come Serul!”

She felt a wash of eagerness as Serul did her bidding. He lunged forward and in the narrow space all three of the people fell beneath the flailing, scrambling body of the wolf. She smiled at the loud curses as they tried to untangle themselves. Dale burst out into daylight. The gangplank was blocked by two armored guards, which left her just one route of escape. She glanced over the railing to the ocean. There had been a lake in her childhood, but nothing like the moiling cauldron of dark water below the ship. Dale knew that to pause was to be captured. Whatever these people had planned was likely worse than drowning.

“Don’t jump!”

Dale glanced back to see the same people from the corridor racing up the steps. She waved to them and leapt as far as she could into open air. A moment of flight and then impact and cool darkness as she swept her hands to propel herself well away from the ship. Unlike the lake, the water was warm and the current not nearly as bad as expected. She surfaced beneath a pier and listened to the shouting on the nearby ship. She saw a silvery form gallop across the dock and then pause atop a crate, surveying the scene for her.

‘Don’t lead them to me.’ Dale thought and received an acknowledgment in the form of the wolf tearing off towards the market. She gripped a pier piling and watched them searching the shore. They seemed so sure that she would abandon the water for the shore immediately and didn’t even look at the water. It was strange that they did not even consider the dock.

She was pondering this when a sleek form cut through the green tide near her. A dorsal fin sliced the surface and then disappeared into the murk beneath the dock. Dale felt her blood chill as she lost sight of it. She hugged the piling and hauled herself higher on the barnacle covered wood just moments before something broke the surface behind her. There were only a few feet between the water and the underside of the dock. The thing was at least four yards long. It probably would have no difficulty jumping up and dragging her down. Seeing the massive form curving around through the pilings she shifted herself to the other side of the column and felt her dread deepen as changed direction. It was stalking her, but it was being fairly leisurely. There really was nowhere to go and perhaps the monstrous fish knew it.

If she shouted for help the people looking for her would find her. She watched the great beast and made an estimate of its relative ability to fit between the pilings. It would probably not move quickly…and further up towards shore the water was shallow and full of discarded trash. She suspected the shark would not follow her there. She crawled up and wedged her fingers between the boards of the dock’s deck. She let herself hang before pushing off with her feet, hanging by one hand she felt for each grip, careful to keep her legs folded up and out of the water. It was very slow, for the wood was slick and the terror of plunging into the water kept her meticulous.

The shark continued to patrol and occasionally surface to survey the columns. When she heard it she would freeze and hope that the shadows would keep her safe. Then she would again hurry as much as she could until she could rest at the next piling. Blood from splinters and sharp barnacles streamed down her arms and the knees of her leather hose were torn open. As the boulders of the shore met the wooden dock there was less space. She dropped into the dark and filthy water, contending with shredded nets, raw sewage, discarded wagon wheels, fish heads and a drowned cat as she waded.

She rested beneath the dock, safe at last from the shark and listened as the search on shore continued. She saw someone come down on the shore with a lantern and shine it under the pilings. Dale ducked under the vile water to avoid detection, feeling the sting of the filth in all of her cuts. She surfaced amid the fish heads and knew she’d be there awhile. By peering through the boards she could see that her erstwhile captors had alerted the Twistwood. They were not about to let her leave as a free person.

After awhile they stopped looking. Though it was still light she could not hide for much longer. The water was warm by comparison to Ascalon but it was still cold and she was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Also the open cuts on her limbs had swollen and puckered…she wanted to wash them badly. Then there was the stink and the fact that Lions Arch’s people continued to add to the slack miasma that drifted in and out of her hiding place. Dale crawled under an overturned rowboat and then scurried to some abandoned nets. There was a sliver of warm sun and she stripped off some of her armor to warm up. Slowly she stopped shuddering and managed to get her clothes arranged to dry out.

The sun dipped past the horizon. She put on her undershirt and pants and decided to leave her sodden and ruined armor where it was. Dale hoped she looked like the indigent person she felt she was; such people were often invisible. Twistwood had taken her weapons and pack away. She literally had nothing, not even a single coin. She wasn’t sure what to do as she walked towards the fountain. Lanterns had been lit and business continued unabated as things continued to be bought and sold in the market. Dale noticed how the crowds parted for her stinking body. A prissy mage in brilliant robes cussed at her as she paused at a vendor who was giving out unsold bread at the end of his day. She was famished and the brittle bread was welcome. The vendor saw her obvious hunger and handed her another piece of bread and a cup of lemon water.

“Where are you from?”

She felt an impulse of fear at the man’s attention. She took another bite and sipped the refreshing water. She shook her head slowly. Dale did not want to say anything that could be overheard. The man shrugged when she did not respond. She finished eating and nodded in thanks as she set the cup down on the stack.

Somewhat refreshed she cast out for her wolf and found he had left the city. Serul informed her that the guard of the city had chased him away from the fountain when people started to complain. She’d have to go outside to retrieve him, but the gates were closed for the night. She wandered back to the fountain and sat on the edge to rinse out her wounds and wash out her hair. She looked for Kouric but saw no sign of him.

“Excuse me, but are you Kada Temus? I’m looking for her.” Dale glanced up from bathing to see a young monk. She had a strangely crooked smile and a peculiar haircut that exposed a tattoo on her scalp. Dale observed that she had very tidy clothes and a beautifully carved staff in one hand. Given that she was again hungry and still exhausted it was tempting to lie.

“No.” Dale gave her hair a long rinse and was relieved to see that this time no filth came out of it. She was starting to not stink like sewage.

“She’s a monk I think. They didn’t give me a description other than she would be with a refugee group from Ascalon. Are you a refugee?”

Dale nodded. “More or less, but I have never heard of that person.”

“Its not really safe to sleep out here with the Zaishen looking for people.”

“I don’t have anything but what you see. I am a ranger but I lost everything.” She was too tired and hungry for secrets now and it only seemed natural to give her worries to a sympathetic monk. The woman was staring at her, mouth slightly open.

“Wait a minute…you are the one the Twistwood were looking for…they came to our hall looking for you…it's Dale, isn’t it?”

Dale jumped to her feet in a near panic, worried that the monk would expose her. The monk put a calming hand on Dale’s shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid. I would never give anyone to them, even if they burned my hall.”