“… at sword point,” I added sarcastically.
“What’s a Deveel doing here?”
“All we know is that rumor has it he was barred from Deva,” I told her.
“Hmm … sounds like a bit of a nasty character.”
“Well, he won’t win any popularity contests.”
“It occurs to me,” Aahz interrupted, “that if either of my two guesses are correct, we’d best be on our way. Time seems to be running out.”
“Right,” agreed Tanda. “Which way is Isstvan?”
“First, we’ve got to pick up Quigley,” I inserted.
“Why?” asked Aahz. “Oh, I suppose you’re right, kid. We’re going to need all the help we can muster.”
“Who’s Quigley?” Tanda asked.
“Later, Tanda,” Aahz insisted. “First help us see if there’s anything here worth salvaging.”
Unfortunately, there wasn’t. In fact, there weren’t even the charred remains of anything left for our discovery. Even the garish sword I had left behind seemed to have vanished.
“That settles it,” Aahz commented grimly as we completed our search. “He’s on his way to Isstvan.”
“The natives might have taken the sword after they burned the place,” I suggested hopefully.
“No way, kid. Even yokels like these wouldn’t bother with a crummy sword like that.”
“It was that bad?” Tanda asked.
“It was that bad,” Aahz assured her firmly.
“If it was that worthless, why would Frumple take it with him?” I asked.
“For the same reason we’ve been lugging it around,” Aahz said pointedly. “There’s always some sucker to unload it on for a profit. Remember Quigley?”
“Who’s Quigley?” Tanda insisted.
“Well,” sighed Aahz, “at the moment he’s a statue, but in duller times he’s a demon hunter.”