“The strongest man knows his greatest weaknesses,” it said.
Lord Endland had gifted it to Erich on his sixteenth birthday, right before he’d left for court. Back then, he thought his greatest weakness was being born dragon cursed. Erich picked up the dagger and traced his fingers along the words. All of Endland’s hopes and ambitions for a greater Sundland had gone into Erich. But given a choice, the wickedness in his blood won out. Erich turned it over and shoved it back into the sheath at his hip.
Ivar was standing at the bottom of the steps when he exited his room.
“You’re leaving again. But you’ve only just returned,” Ivar said.
“There’s something I have to do,” Erich said.
Not waiting for Ivar’s response, hewalked out the door. If he lingered, Ivar would have offered him a ride in the carriage or tried to convince him to reconsider marrying Liane. But on a day like today, walking would expend his restlessness and soothe the dragon. Head down, Erich walked against the current of pedestrians flowing up the hill toward the Temple of Sol and made his way southward toward the Velvet District.
The further he got from the temple, the fewer people there were until he was alone walking the filthy streets of the Velvet District for the second time that day. Not far off the main road, he found the tavern and inn that Fritz told him about: Moonlight Tavern. The squalid main room was mostly empty apart from the grizzled, one-eyed woman behind the bar. She watched him with her good eye as she cleaned a dented pewter glass with a stained towel.
“Drink?” she asked in a gruff voice.
“I’m here for Fritz,” Erich said, hand resting on his dagger.
“And you are?”
“His friend.”
“Didn’t know he had any. Been staying here neara year, and you’re the first to come calling,” she said before spitting into a bucket.
A year hiding in this dump, disguising his identity, perhaps fearing death at every turn. How could he stand it? Why had he done it? From what he glimpsed of the elf’s power, he should’ve been able to transform rocks into geld or something and at least stayed in a nicer inn. Or stolen the sword on his own long ago.
“Can you tell him Erich is here to see him?”
“Do I look like a messenger? Go up the stairs and tell him yourself, he’s in room three.”
“Thanks,” Erich said.
Stairs creaked as he climbed, and the worn carpet stank of stale vomit. Delightful. Four doors faced into the hallway, and room three’s door number was rusted and crooked. Erich rapped on it with his knuckles and, while waiting for a response, scanned the empty hall. As far as he could tell, the remaining rooms were empty. Good thing because he didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing their conversation. Fritz opened the door a crack, his pale face and wide eyes filling the gap.
“Oh, wasn’t expecting you; come in,” he said as he opened the door wider.
“Shouldn’t your visions have told you?” Erich replied, eyes skimming the cramped room.
Apart from the cot, which occupied half the space, the room was bare and lacked any personal effects. If the bartender hadn’t mentioned it, Erich wouldn’t have guessed Fritz had been living here for almost a year.
“It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid. The All-Mother grants visions as she sees fit, and not everything I see comes to pass,” Fritz said as he closed the door.
“I guess there are limits to your powers then.” Not that he cared or believed in that sort of thing. He’d agreed to work with the elf because of the cure, not because of some prophecy.
“Have a seat. I’d offer you some ale, but it tastes like piss.” Fritz chuckled, his back to Erich.Fritz flitted about the room, making the bed, and straightening things that weren’t crooked. Was he nervous? Did he have something to do with what happened last night?After things settled, he’d heard about how the killer claimed the kill for the moon: more commonly known as the Nameless Goddess. The same goddess the elves worshiped.
“There was a murder at the palace last night. Know anything about it?” Erich said.
Fritz stood very still. “Is that why you’re here?”
“I don’t care about what happens to some singer. But I do care about getting the sword and my cure. If there’s an added complication I need to know about, I want you to tell me now.”
“I don’t know if they’re involved, but I’ve suspected for a while that my people have been supplying the drug you call stardust.”
“Are they going to get in the way of us getting the sword?” In the end, that’s all that mattered.
Fritz turned to face him, his eyes lacking pupils, glassy gray and shifting between a dusty purple to midnight blue.
“There is a prophecy among my people that foretells the end of days; as the dragon star rises once again, they fear the golden sword in the wrong hands will unlock the great calamity. Balance must be restored before it’s too late; night will become day and day become night, the dead will rise, and all the world will burn.”
