They joined the travelers on the road, their steps squelching in the thick mud. The road progressed into cobblestone as they neared the town. The nameLandcasterwasengraved on a large wooden sign by the entrance.
Zev led Dyna past it and merged into the swarm of people going about their business. The quaint wattle and daub homes with timber frames and steep red-tiled roofs clustered together, lining the streets. Most had overhang second stories, their stone bases adorned with climbing vines and flower gardens.
They came to a commerce section where several of the streets met, circling a stone monument carved in the effigy of an unknown nobleman. Townsfolk swarmed the surrounding shops of clothing and goods. Wagons rattled as they rolled over the uneven cobblestone, paired with the clomp of horse hooves. Children ran past, laughing and playing in the fountain’s water.
“Come, Zev!” Dyna pulled him eagerly toward the crowded market. She was beaming with awe and excitement, practically running through the streets. Her small frame quickly disappeared in the mass of bodies.
He found her in the market where merchants sold everything from grains to spices. She flitted from stall to stall, seeing all that she could. Zev took a seat on a nearby bench and let her explore. He remembered how excited he had been when his father first brought him to town.
The thought made him sigh. The town had changed since then. More homes had been built, more businesses had established, and the population had grown by the sight of so many people passing through.
Zev wondered if there were more blacksmiths in town as well. He glanced at the smithy street beside the market, contemplating whether to make a stop to see Ragan. He had not seen the old blacksmith in nearly six months and it was time to reinforce his chains again. Dyna was well into a conversation with an herbalist, so Zev decided to make a quick errand about it.
He strolled through the street lined in forges, listening to the steady beat of hammers and inhaling the iron-tasting smoke billowing from the hearths. The stifling heat of the fires pressed against him. Many townsfolk were about, making requests or picking up orders.
Zev reached a familiar forge, and the blacksmith there had his back to him. He wore a rag around his head, his face stained with soot. The man used long tongs to pull out a molten piece of metal from the hearth. It hissed when he dipped it in a well of water to cool.
“Ragan,” Zev called out.
The old blacksmith turned and gave him a broad smile. “Ah, I wondered when you would come about, lad.”
“You look well, sir.”
Ragan wiped his weathered face with a rag and looked out at the busy street with a frown. “As well as I can be. Business is scarce now that the town has more smithies than available labor, but I can’t complain.”
“Well, might you have time to tend to my chains today? I am going on a journey and need them to be secure.”
“Aye, I haven’t much work today. I’ll see to them.”
Zev took out the cold mound of chains from his pack. They clanked heavily on the service counter. He pulled out a small sack of money next.
Ragan waved him away, looking mildly offended. “How many times do I have to tell you? Put your coin away. I owe your father a great debt for saving my daughter from the fever. I pay him back by tending to his son now.”
Zev smiled. “Thank you.”
“Aye, come back for them tonight.”
Zev returned to the market, but when he reached the herbalist stall, Dyna was gone.
“Madam,” he called to the old woman. “Where has my cousin gone? You spoke to her. Red-haired lass.”
The hunched herbalist balked and leaned her head back to look up at him. Her white brows rose high on her forehead. “I—I am not sure, sir. Pardon.”
Zev quickly made his way through the crowd, sniffing the air. He caught Dyna’s scent and followed it to a small bridge set over a waterway that stank something terrible. He couldn’t breathe without gagging. By the potency of her scent on the balustrade, she had lingered here for a short moment. Possibly too lost to find her way back to him.
Endless smells and sounds assaulted Zev’s senses, making his head spin. It would be impossible to locate her exact trail without shifting, but his wolf hadn’t surfaced yet. He groaned in frustration and hurried through the town square, going off instinct now. Evening was approaching. He prayed he found her before trouble found her first.
Zev inhaled a deep breath, trying to remain calm. By some luck, he caught her scent again. He pursued it, shoving through a passing crowd. He came behind two men walking briskly onward. One in a black leather coat, and his companion in a black hooded cloak. Dyna’s scent lingered on them. They must have encountered her.
As he neared, the one in the hood spun around. He whipped out a dagger and brought it under Zev’s chin.
“Whoa.” He held up his hands in surrender. He’d rather not be stabbed a second time.
The stranger’s hood slipped off with the wind, revealing his cropped, dark brown hair and hard face flanked by pointed ears. The elf’s brows set low over his amber eyes, which were fixed with disinterest. The confrontation was merely a lazy warning. But Zev had no doubts about how quick his throat could be slit. Elves were a nimble sort, and lethal. The crossguard of the knife gilded in red metal gleamed in the sunlight. On the back of the elf’s hand was a perfectly round scar as though he’d been branded by hot iron.
The man in the coat half turned, scowling in annoyance. He wore his chestnut hair slicked back from his face. He was dressed in all black from his boots to his trousers, matching his coat. A series of brass buttons adorned the open lapels, giving a glimpse of the many knives sheathed on the crossed bandolier on his chest. The man noticed Zev looking and adjusted his coat to hide them.
“You’re too old to be a pickpocket,” he said, speaking with the brogue Azure accent of the north. His sea-green glare was as sharp as the knife held at Zev’s throat. “How unfortunate that you’ve chosen the wrong man to thieve from.”
