needed is never to be had without price.
The price of the thick brown ale in which the Alekeep specialized was doubled
for the holiday’s night-long vigil, but they paid not one coin, drinking,
instead, in a private room in back where the grateful owner led them: he had
heard about the manifestation at the Mageguild, and had been glad he had taken
Niko’s advice and kept his girls inside. “Can I let them out, then?” he said
with a twinkling eye. “Now that you are here? Would the Lord Marshal and his
distinguished Stepsons care for some gentle companionship, this jolly eve?”
Tempus, flexing his open hand on which the clear serum glistened as it thickened
into scabby skin, told him to keep his children locked up until dawn, and sent
him away so brusquely Janni eyed Niko askance.
Their commander sat with his back against the wall opposite the door through
which the tavern’s owner had disappeared. “We were followed here. I’d like to
think you both realized it on your own.”
The placement of their seats, backs generously offered to any who might enter,
spoke so clearly of their failure that neither said a word, only moved their
chairs to the single table’s narrow sides. When next the door swung open, One
Thumb, not their host, stood there, and Tempus chuckled hoarsely in the hulking
wrestler’s face. “Only you, Lastel? I own you had me worried.”
“Where is she, Tempus? What have you done with her?” Lastel stomped forward, put
both ham-hands flat upon the table, his thick neck thrust forward, bulging with
veins.