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“You’ve worked for Deneith. You should know all about that.” Chain rubbed a rough hand across his chin. “What’s on the schedule, Preesh?”

The goblin flipped ahead in the account book, checked a column, and said in words Dandra understood, “You’re clear.”

Chain leaned across the desk. “Tell me more.”

Natrac glanced at Singe and Dandra, then looked back to Chain. “Have you ever heard of a place called the Spires of the Forge?”

Chain rapped his fingers against the tabletop. “Ten silver,” he said.

“What?”

“Ten silver,” Chain repeated. “Sovereigns, trade bits, matching weights-I don’t care. You’ve just asked me a question. You want an answer, it’s ten silver.”

“You said to tell you more,” Dandra protested.

“Tell, not ask.”

“Ten sovereigns is a steep price for a simple answer,” said Singe. “Either you’ve heard of the place or you haven’t.”

Chain picked up his mug and took another drink. “You’re taking up my time,” he said. “A man needs to eat and Preesh doesn’t work cheap. Ten silver could clear this all up right away.”

Singe grumbled under his breath and looked to Natrac. The half-orc reached into a pouch and produced ten silver sovereigns, pushing them across the table to Chain. “There,” he said. “Now-have you heard of the Spires of the Forge?”

The big man scooped up the coins. “No.”

Dandra stared at him. “No?” she said in shock.

Chain shrugged. “Never heard of them.” He raised his heavy eyebrows. “They were what you were looking for?”

“Yes!”

“Then we’ve just saved ourselves a lot of trouble.” He drank again.

Dandra rose to her feet, fury and the close air of the gaeth’ad house making her head pound. “You just took our money!”

“You paid for an answer. I gave it to you,” the big man said. “Don’t blame me if it’s not the answer you wanted to hear.” He remained seated but the goblin had tensed again.

Singe put a hand on her shoulder. “Easy,” he said. “He’s right.”

She could tell from the sound of his voice that he wasn’t happy either. She glared at Chain. “What about the Hall of the Revered? Have you heard of that or is it going to cost us another ten sovereigns?”

Chain’s shoulders tightened, making his muscles bulge. “I’ll throw it in for free,” he said. “No. I’ve never heard of the Spires of the Forge or the Hall of the Revered.”

“Thank you,” said Natrac. The half-orc rose quickly. “We’ll be on our way, then. Maybe someone else-”

Chain moved with a speed that shocked even Dandra, surging up out of his chair to lean across the table and snap in Natrac’s face. “You try,” he said. “You just try. But here’s another free answer: if I haven’t heard of a place in Droaam, then it doesn’t exist. You ask any other bounty hunter, prospector, or scout and they’re not going to be able to help you either. You’ve already come to the best. If I can’t help you, nobody can!” Natrac flinched back. Chain flung up an arm, pointing back out of the gaeth’ad house. “Get out.”

“I-” Natrac started to say, but Singe grabbed the half-orc with his other arm and hauled both him and Dandra away. Dandra caught a last glimpse of Chain as the big bounty hunter slammed himself back down into his chair. Curious faces peered at them as they hastened out of the house and back into the herb market.

“Twelve bloody moons!” cursed Singe. “What a-”

“What a dahr!” said Dandra through clenched teeth. She looked at Natrac. “Do you think he was lying?”

He shook his head. “That was business, Dandra. He had no reason to lie.”

“What about trying other people? Do you think it was just his ego talking when he said no one else would know anything?”

“It doesn’t look like he would admit to having rivals, does it?” said Natrac. He shrugged. “There’s no harm in trying to find other sources, but Chain was supposed to be the best in the city right now. If he doesn’t know, maybe House Tharashk isn’t the answer.”

“We were only gambling that Tharashk would have the answers we need, Dandra,” Singe pointed out. “There’s still Natrac’s historian.”

Dandra took a deep breath, trying to cool her rage at Chain’s grating manners, and lifted her chin. “But we’re gambling on that, too, aren’t we?” she said with determination. “I’m not going to give up on Tharashk that easily. I don’t think Chain knows as much as he thinks he does.”

“We’ve got time to ask around.” Singe squinted up at the sun, still high in the sky. “We’re not supposed to meet Geth and Ashi for a long while yet.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Twelve moons, we might as well have had them with us all along!”

Dandra glanced at him. “I don’t think that would have helped.”

“No, but I would have enjoyed watching them beat down Chain. That would have been worth ten sovereigns.” He smiled wistfully.

“Do you really think we fooled them?” asked Ashi.

“Probably,” said Geth as they moved through the crowds on one of Zarash’ak’s broader streets. The sun was high; the day was hot. He, the hunter, and Orshok had lingered at Natrac’s house well after the others had gone. Geth had luxuriated in the shade of the canopy on Natrac’s rooftop, napping on a stomach full of bread and honey and grateful for the first day in weeks that there was no need to paddle a boat or hike across country. He twisted as he walked, loosening muscles that had been knotted for too long and added, “Singe likes to think he’s clever.”

“He is clever,” Orshok pointed out.

Geth gave the young orc a glare but bared his teeth in a grin, too. “When you’ve known Singe for as long as I have, you get used to him. You can tell when he’s up to something. I would have known he was trying to get rid of us even you hadn’t said anything, Orshok.”

The druid looked vaguely disappointed. “You would have?”

“A clever man is most vulnerable when he’s trying to be clever. Someone wise told me that.”

“Who?” asked Orshok suspiciously.

“Robrand d’Deneith, the man who recruited me and Singe into the Frostbrand company of the Blademarks when we were your age. One of the greatest commanders to ever lead a Blademarks company.” Geth let out a little snarl of satisfaction. “He had Singe figured out. The old man could keep him in knots if he wanted to.”

Ashi’s face darkened. “So we fooled Singe by doing exactly what he wanted us to do?” She looked down at Geth. “How is that outwitting him?”

“Because we chose to do this ourselves.” He stretched his arms out in the bright sunlight. His ancient Dhakaani sword was a weight at his side, but he’d left his great gauntlet behind. There was no need for it and the day was too pleasant to worry about armor. “I like House Tharashk-they tend to be more honest than other dragonmarked houses-but I don’t want to spend all day going from tavern to tavern talking to them.”

“That was Singe’s argument, too,” said Orshok. “We’re doing what he wanted for exactly the reason he said we should.”

Geth opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. He gave Orshok another glare. This time the orc smiled. So did Ashi. Geth glowered. “Come on,” he grumbled, “Let’s see what we can see.”

They followed the crowds, less out of any random choice than out of another principle handed down by Robrand d’Deneith: where there were people, there would be something interesting. Geth’s old commander’s wisdom didn’t fail them. They wandered through a market where merchants from beyond the Shadow Marches offered the finest items from across Khorvaire. They passed a theater where criers called out the coming evening’s bill, while mummers on the other side of the street gave a show for thrown coins. At a shrine dedicated to the Sovereign Host, they stopped and went inside so that Orshok and Ashi could marvel at a faith unfamiliar to both of them. Geth stood by the door, nodding to the priests tending the shrine, as the druid and the hunter stared at the shining images of the nine gods.