CHAPTER 1
WEIRD TIMES IN GORGONHOLM
Thurmond was worried. Sarah was up to something, something he probably would not like. For three days now she had been distant and preoccupied. When he asked her about it, her response had been vague and evasive. When she announced at breakfast that she intended to go on a stroll through the forest, he had offered to accompany her, but she declined. She needed, she said, a chance to be alone, to collect her thoughts, to find her feelings. Thurmond did not believe any of this and had followed her at a discreet distance. As he suspected, her steps had taken her not to the forest but straight to the city of Gorgonholm and then up Castle Wynd toward Market Square.
This was the heart of the great city. The outer edges of the square were given to respectable semi-permanent booths from which reputable merchants sold their wares, but the center was a wild labyrinth of crude wooden stalls and shabby canvas rainscreens tied to farm carts. Here peasant families sold their radishes, cabbages, and leeks. Itinerate tinkers plied their trade, and fish-wives sang the praises of the day’s catch. A group of screaming boys fought a merry battle with horse turds.
Citizens of all castes and professions picked their way through the maze of guy ropes and wagon tongues in search of bargains. Pompous nobles and blustering guildsmen pushed through crowds of sullen apprentices and loud, drunken laborers. The prostitutes did a good bit of business, as they did on every Market Day. So did the deft and canny cutpurse.
Actually, it was quiet for Market Day. No caravans had arrived recently, so there were no swarthy foreign merchants with exotic spices and fine silk cloth from the lands to the east. There were neither dwarves nor elves, though members of those races were sometimes present as they passed through the city on some business or other.
The Blue Friar’s cathedral rose on the left, monstrously huge, like a great stone fist demonstrating the supreme authority of the church. Gargoyles gaped open-mouthed along the rooftop. Imposing stone statues flanked the massive, iron-bound doors and frowned with grim disapproval at the bustling Market Day scene before them.
Thurmond concealed himself in the structure’s shadowy portico and watched as Sarah made her way to the far side of the square. She was typically quite open about her personal business, so her duplicity made him uncomfortable. What could be prompting her to deceive him in this way?
Sarah was, he knew, entitled to her privacy. He had no control over her comings and goings, no right to thrust himself into a matter from which he had been deliberately excluded. She was not his ladylove. She was just … well … he had no idea how to accurately define their relationship.
The previous summer they had joined forces with an old Adventurer named Roscoe to pillage a hoard of gold from a nest of goblin river-pirates. They had faced deadly peril side by side and saved each other’s lives multiple times. They had suffered terrible hardships and defeated fearsome enemies. Such experiences had forged an indelible bond between them.
Trusted friend and ally? Boon companion? Partner in crime?
Certainly, she was all these things, but his feelings for her went well beyond that. It was just that he could not explain, even to himself, exactly what those feelings were. They had been through so much together—why would she deceive him in this way?
Thurmond shrank back further into the dark recess of the portico. Sarah would be furious if she discovered he was following her, but he had to take that chance. Maybe she was in trouble. Maybe something she was afraid to speak of. If so, he would be on hand to come to her aid.
Sarah seemed distinctly nervous as she pushed through the throng of merchants and shoppers. She kept turning her head, scanning the crowd, obviously looking for someone, and growing increasingly agitated when that person failed to appear. Thurmond was more and more positive something was deeply amiss.
She suddenly stopped pacing, stared intently on a small street that opened into the far end of the square, and strode briskly in that direction. Something in her gait seemed unnatural, as if she had to refrain from running toward her assignation.