After this encounter, Kraghtol was more careful with the wine. Having never drunk much in his life, the alcohol had loosened his tongue a bit too quickly for his liking, and he needed to cool down before he accidentally blurted out his true identity.
So, he found a quiet place at the edge of the place and sat down on an empty bench. It was part of multiple rows of benches set up for a puppet show for children, but only the front rows were packed with giggling young humans and elves, while at the back, there was no one but Kraghtol. It was a pretty entertaining show, if somewhat silly, with the puppets re-enacting stories and legends from all over the realm. Right now, a small group of puppets representing the brave and witty heroes from the realm tried to sneak past a patrol comprising a rather dumb troll, a mischievous pixie, and a downright evil orc leader. Neither of the three was very convincing in their role, but the kids still screamed and booed as loud as they could, while the troll, pixie, and orc puppets laughed and threatened them.
It was a harmless play, but the longer Kraghtol looked at it, the more uneasy he felt. He had heard part of the story before, perhaps on a similar occasion back home. If he remembered correctly, it was abouta buried treasure in the so-called stormy steppes, which were supposed to be a hostile place outside the safe borders of Wardenreach. The plot was as shallow as you would expect from a children’s play, and the evil antagonists weren’t very competent at all. In the end, after the brave heroes had defeated the troll and the pixie, the evil orc was so annoyed he literally sank into the ground and was never seen again.
He was just about to search for a place to sit that made him less uncomfortable when he noticed he was not, in fact, the only one in the back rows. Two benches in front of him, and partly hidden in the shadows of a wall, sat two adults he couldn’t make out more than their silhouettes of. They were talking in low voices, and if he concentrated, he could listen in.
“What do you mean ‘circumvent’?”
“You know full well it’s unbreakable. Or rather, unbreakable by anything other than death. But I may have found a… loophole.”
The second voice was even lower than the first one, but Kraghtol’s eyes went wide as he immediately recognized the melodic voice of his Elven teacher, Holen Merress. And he also knew the first voice, although it had been some weeks now since he had heard it.
“This is… beyond dangerous. Are you sure about this? Why would you tell me, of all people?” asked Thalen Virex, local guild master of the Alchemists’ Guild in Winterstone, his voice now almost a whisper.
“I wouldn’t tell you if I weren’t sure. Think about it, Thalen. We could be free. I can’t solve this alone, but with your help —”
A louder wave of screaming laughter from the front rows swallowed the rest of the sentence as the troll puppet stumbled over its ownfeet in the most incompetent way imaginable. Only after a good while was he able to get the last part of Virex’s reply.
“— but we have to be extremely careful about this. Ifhefinds out, we’re both dead. Remember, you’re already under scrutiny. If the smallest word gets out —”
A loud scream interrupted Virex, and Kraghtol watched how the orc puppet, probably in a dramatic final act, was sinking into the ground while laughing manically. It was the end of the play, and the two guild officials quickly got up and went in opposite directions. Not wanting to draw any attention to himself or suggest that he might have listened in on something he definitely wasn’t supposed to hear, Kraghtol lingered longer and clapped his hands along with the children. Just as he was about to get up himself, he caught sight of a third shadowy figure leaving the darkness of the nearby wall. Whoever that was had been hiding so well, they had been nearly invisible. Had they listened in on the guild master’s conversation as well? Should he warn him?
No, this was ridiculous. Whatever exchange it was he had stumbled upon, the worst thing he could do now was to get involved. The sane thing to do would be to just sit here in silence, wait for the figure to disappear and not draw any attention to himself. But with every passing heartbeat, it became more difficult to resist. He didn’t want to get involved; he just wanted to know who the third person was. Just following at a safe distance surely wouldn’t be too risky.
Even though he got up only moments later, he had already almost lost the shadowy figure, and only glimpsed them turning around a corner by chance. He hurried after them, trying not to draw too muchattention. Luckily, his human body was much more capable of that. As a half-orc, it was hard not to get noticed by bystanders, and his natural tendency to run into things because he was distracted didn’t make it any better. Krasen the human, however, was just unremarkable, and, perhaps because of his smaller frame, collided with doors and walls much more rarely.
The one he was pursuing was fast and moved away from the festivities quickly, which was bad. Tailing someone in the crowd of the solstice celebration was one thing, but entirely different in the empty streets of the city. For the most part, the streets were brightly lit, so Kraghtol had to keep a generous distance, pressing himself to the walls and corners. If someone were to see him, his behavior was the very definition of suspiciousness.
There was something weird about the person he was following, and it took him a few city blocks to say what it was. On the brightly lit streets, everything was mostly normal. They were wearing a dark cloak that made it difficult to make out any more details about the person, but apart from that, the only thing out of the ordinary was a tiny, hard to pinpoint feeling of unease. In the darker parts of the city, the ones with less lantern light — and the person seemed to prefer those parts — following them became ridiculously hard. There, it seemed like their entire bodydissolvedinto darkness, leaving behind only an empty street and a haunting feeling. In these alleys, Kraghtol figured, it would have been easy for the two of them to pass each other within arm’s length without him noticing.
Luckily, whoever he was following apparently did not notice him and, after taking a few needlessly complicated turns, headed for awell-known part of the city: towards the campus of the Alchemists’ guild. Fewer people actually lived here, so the streets weren’t lit by lanterns as much. Where before, the mysterious shadow-blending ability had been creepy, but ultimately useless in single alleyways, now, in the sprawling darkness of the campus, Kraghtol almost immediately lost track. He had no way of telling where his target had turned, and had effectively lost them.
He closed his eyes and recalled the city layout. The Alchemists’ Guild was located at the western edge of the Commercial Quarter, bordering the Silver Spires and the Park District. As far as he knew, it was impossible to get onto the walled-off hill where the rich and noble lived, from here. It was easily possible to get to the Park District, on the other hand, but coming from the central marketplace, it would be a detour. Given that the person he was following had taken confusing routes before, that didn’trule outthe Park District as a destination, especially since this dark area was ideal to lose any potential pursuers.
Before turning south, however, Kraghtol hesitated. It was just as likely that the destination had been this very campus, and if he had to wander around aimlessly in a dark area of the city, he’d rather take the one he was somewhat familiar with.
He had little hope of actually achieving something and was surprised when he stumbled upon an island of lantern light just after turning two corners, near the administrative building where he enrolled. Two people turned toward him, and it took him a moment to recognize at least one of them against the piercing light: Dean Quenning, who was talking with another woman. The other womanwas the same size as the person he had been following, and clad in a dark coat, but, of course, he couldn’t be certain it was the same one.
Only when he noticed the two of them were staring at him, having interrupted their conversation, did he realize how out of place he was. He briefly considered turning around to run, but that would have only made things worse. Instead, he forced a smile.
“Dean Quenning! What a pleasant surprise! Happy solstice!”
She furrowed her brow and took a moment to reply.
“Ah. Our… newest student. What are you doing here?”
She seemed to have forgotten his name already. “Krasen from Caemdir,” he helped, trying to keep his heart from beating so loud she could hear it. “I was just on my way to…” He hesitated for a split second. There wasn’t much in the direction he was going, so he had to take the first thing that came to mind. “… the library.”
“Really? At this time of the day?” Judging by her tone, that answer hadn’t dispelled her doubts at all. He had to come up with something believable, and fast.
“Uhm, yes. It’s open all day, right?” he stalled. Then, he got an idea. Subtly slurring his next words, he continued. “You see, Aniriel — that’s a fellow student; you know her, silver hair and silver eyes — and I had a discussion over one or two cups of wine at the festival, about… geography. She says nobody has ever scaled The Sword, but I am pretty sure I have heard the opposite in a lecture.”
“And then you decided to look up that trivial fact right now, on solstice night?” Her voice was a strange mixture of disbelief and annoyance that made Kraghtol shiver in the night’s cold.
He shrugged, committing to the slightly drunk image as convincingly as possible. “We can’t very well start the new year with an argument like that, can we?”
Dean Quenning shook her head. “Students. Unbelievable. You are wrong on both accounts, Mr. Krasen. The library is not open at all times, and also not on solstice day. And no, The Sword is a large,insurmountablemountain range in the southern part of the country. I would advise you strongly to pay more attention in class.”
