Making sure no one was watching, Von tugged on leather gloves he produced from his coat and removed the lid off the case. He overturned it on the table, and a rolled-up parchment slid out with trickles of sand. Gently, he unfurled the parchment, careful not to disturb the brittle edges. It was smooth, worn with time. Faded script of the ancient language spoken during the First Age filled the delicate weathered page. Von recognized it easily as he had seen Yavi spend hours translating similar documents.
It was real. Master would be pleased.
Yavi once told him the Sacred Scrolls held several mysteries of the foundations of the world, like the keys to The Seven Gates and the quintessence of life.
How many still existed was unknown. Only that the Scrolls were once kept in temples dedicated to the God of Urn all over the country before they were destroyed centuries ago. Von went on excursions across the world to find any that remained.
Two things his master desired above all else: to find the Sacred Scroll with the secret of the Unending, and the foretold Maiden that would lead him to where the Unending was kept.
Mount Ida.
Fortune telling, prophecies, or any divination of the sort was all nonsense to Von. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—put any value on the prophetic words they received from the famous Seer of Faery Hill. But his master believed in them, so they spent years searching for the Maiden. Von had better luck finding Sacred Scrolls. Though, none had the Unending.
This one probably wouldn’t either.
He returned the Scroll to its case. “I’ll take it.”
“Marvelous.”
“Who else knows about this?”
The merchant leaned back in his chair, propping his linked hands over his belly. “I have a broker in Corron. He was to buy it if our deal fell through.”
Von made a mental note to look into this broker, not willing to risk others knowing of Tarn’s whereabouts. “And how much are you expecting out of our deal?”
A slow, devious grin split the man’s round cheeks. “Well, the bounty on your master’s head is worth ten-thousand gold pieces. I think that sounds like a fair price, eh?”
The threat went unsaid but the notion was clear.
Von smiled a tight smile. “See my companion over there?” He shifted in his chair sideways and nodded toward Elon who watched them under his shadowed hood. Von signaled him over. “He will see that you receive your dues.”
“Brilliant.” The merchant bumbled to his feet as Elon approached.
“He is to be well paid,” Von told him.
The elf nodded once. Von knew he had heard their hushed conversation in the bustling room. Elves had acute hearing, which is what made him such a good spy.
“It was a pleasure. Good day,” the merchant said. He followed Elon to a back door exiting into the alleyway behind the pub.
Von sighed and jerked his knife free from the table, tucking it away. They couldn’t risk letting the merchant live at the chance of exposing Tarn’s presence in Azure. Elon was a swift executioner, the man wouldn’t suffer.
The barmaid returned and placed a mug in front of him. “Here you go, handsome. I thought you might need that.” She preened and swept her dark locks over a bare shoulder, with an invitation that wasn’t so subtle. “You’re looking a tad knackered. We have rooms upstairs should you need a place to rest your bearings.”
Von propped his feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. He flipped a single russet in the air, and it landed with a clatter on her tray. Stamped on the copper coin was the sigil of Azure, an interwoven seven-pointed star. “For the drink. Nothing more.”
The barmaid huffed and headed for another table with more willing men.
Von sipped the spiced ale, finding it wasn’t bad. Better than the swig they had at camp. Past the rim of his mug, he noticed the green elf watching him again.
It was uncommon to see their kind in Urn’s Chip for the Vale of the Elves lay to the west across the Saxe Sea. Most elves wandering about Azure were exiled soldiers looking to put their unparalleled skills to work like Elon. They either served as spies or sentinels for wealthy lords or bounty hunters for the Azure Kingdom. Therefore, any attention from this one couldn’t be a good sign.
The elf looked to the new arrival who had walked in the front door. It was the lass Von had met in the town square, the one the werewolf searched for. She looked around the taproom in wonder like it were something to admire.
The patrons immediately noticed her. She had a soft and pretty face, but her dress was dirty and the sleeves were torn. Mud caked the hem of her petticoat, and what must be old streaks of blood stained a part of her dress. The din in the room quieted as all eyes followed her approach to the bar.
She smiled at the barkeep, and her light voice sounded clear in the hushed room. “Good evening. I am searching for—”
A lascivious grin spread on the old barkeep’s face. “Unless you’re searching to serve my patrons, best be off with you, hen.”
