Warm room! With coals! Cinders wagged his sooty tail.Eat eat!
Escalla made a confused little noise. “Coals?”
“He likes the taste.” The Justicar grabbed his equipment androse. “And I also think it’s time you-know-who had a B-A-T-H.” The man rolled hiseyes. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried giving one to a hell hound.”
Settling his huge sword, the man stalked over to the door. “I’ll be back with twenty refugees. You can have first bath while I’m away.”
“Hoopy!” The faerie whirred her wings and climbed up into theair. “See you!”
Out in the streets, the nighttime chill had raised aclinging, gloomy fog. The Franz River echoed with the sound of voices as showboats came nosing slowly to the docks. With street performers finishing up their acts for the night, the alleys were swiftly emptying.
Working quietly and methodically, the Justicar found refugee families and sent them running to the inn. He cleared the alleyways one by one, until finally there was but a single hovel left. He put his head into the dismal little shelter, only to have a disheveled figure erupt and shake him by the hand.
“Son! It’s you, son! They thought you’d drowned, but I saidthey can never keep a good man down!”
Polk the teamster slapped the Justicar on the shoulder in pontificating glee.
“So you survived the wreck of the Saucy Gannet? That’sgrand, son, just grand. We floated on the wreckage here to town. It’s hard luck,but you can’t stop a teamster who has faith in adventure!”
The Justicar turned the man about, pointed him at the inn, and gave him a shove. “Just get inside, eat a meal, and go to sleep. It’s paidfor three days.”
“I will! I will! And much obliged. You don’t have to tell mehow much you owe me, son!”
Polk went on his way, leaving the Justicar muttering behind him. With a last look down the street, the ranger turned to head back into the warmth-then noticed a man wheeling a puppet booth past him down the street.
The puppets hung by their strings from the stage, and amongst them was a little gold-robed wizard with a face painted black and white.
The Justicar immediately walked over, stopped the puppeteer, and pointed to the puppet. “What’s this?”
“What is it?” The puppeteer blinked, only to find newenthusiasm when a coin was placed in his hand. “Why it’s the puppet show ofmysteries! The greatest heroes and the darkest villains! The wildest monsters ever to stalk the Flanaess!”
“The black and white puppet. What is it called?”
“Keraptis!” The puppeteer rattled his manikin, and thegrotesque little figure waved a magic wand. “The sorcerer at the edge of night!The Overman, inhuman, superhuman, evil incarnate!”
The Justicar squatted down and touched the wooden puppet with a fingertip. “Is he based on a real figure?”
“Just so, my friend! The sages will tell you so. Keraptisbelieved that he was a new stage in the evolution of man and therefore was above puerile concepts like good, evil, mercy, and justice. He even changed the structure of his body so that he wouldn’t feel related to his fellow men.” Thepuppeteer nimbly made the puppet bow. “Why do you ask?”
The Justicar stood, laying one hand upon the hilt of his sword. “Where would I find this Keraptis?”
“Where?” The puppeteer seemed astounded. “At the bottommostlayer of the Abyss, my friend-and good riddance!”
The warrior tilted his head, not quite understanding.
The puppeteer frowned and began putting his puppet away. “Keraptis is dead, my friend! You’re too late. He’s been dead for thirteenhundred years.”
7
“Up!”
A stiff finger nudged Escalla in the ribs. Bathed, warm, and with a whole double bed all to herself, the faerie rolled over beneath the blankets and made a plaintive little whine of sheer pleasure.
The Justicar jerked Escalla’s blankets free, exposing her tothe cold night air. With a moan of irritation, the girl forced herself awake. She sat blearily up, clutching sheets against herself to preserve a fragile dignity.
It was still pitch black. Unimpressed and decidedly not an early riser, the faerie growled.
“All right, Steely Thews! There had better be a damned goodreason for getting your face in the way of my beauty sleep!”
Already strapped into his armor, the Justicar was silently unsheathing his sword. His voice whispered in the gloom cast by the coals glowing in the firegrate. “Cinders can hear something. It’s time for tonight’slittle visit.”
The faerie let her sheets slip in amazement. “Visit?”
“No professional gamblers are going to let a rube get awaywith fleecing them. Gamblers usually have contacts with someone in the local thieves’ guild.” The Justicar had stuffed his bedding with pillows until itlooked like a sleeping man. “Right about now, some midnight visitors are goingto come calling on your gambling friend.”
Escalla pulled on her leathers as quickly as she could.
“You mean the thieves are coming to this room? Why? Isn’t our boy staying inthe suite next door?”
“I hung a sign from our door saying, ‘Tinkby’s TavernCongratulates Our Big Winner’.”
“Humorous, yet pointed. That ought to do it.” The faeriecracked her knuckles and rose up out of a perfectly good, warm bed. “So what dowe do?”
“I’ve seen you do lightning bolts, and I’ve seen you throwfireballs. Do you do any immobilizing spells?”
The girl rubbed at her eyes as she collected her thoughts.
“Well I can charm, I can freeze ’em in place-oldie but agoodie. Oh, and I’ve got a web-spell-thingie! Will that work?”
“It’s fine.” The Justicar clipped Cinders into place abouthis neck, the hell hound’s eyes shining a faint, sinister red. “Just sit abovethe doorjamb, slip behind them, and stop them from making an escape.”
The room descended into silence. After a moment, Escalla’swhisper drifted down from above the door.
“Hey, Jus!”
“What?”
“Why are we doing this?”
From his place behind the door, her partner gave a growl. “Because thieves know a lot about illegal doings. I want to catch some thievesand ask some questions.”
“Right. Now that’s a plan.”
They sat in silence, their own breathing echoing strangely loud until suddenly the tiniest of scrapes sounded in the door’s iron lock. Welloiled and cared for, it gave only the barest click as the lock was picked open from the outside. A thin strip of birchwood appeared, wiggling softly through the crack of the door. The birch strip lifted up the door latch with the barest little metallic click. The ring-shaped handle carefully turned, and the door slowly swung wide.
Two dark shapes crept into the room. A sense of presence made it feel that there was perhaps another visitor standing silently on the balcony beyond.
The two shapes stalked silently into the bedroom, moving to flank the bed. A knife gleamed in the dark as the intruders approached. Moving with careful precision, the Justicar swept down his sword and prodded the blade against an intruder’s lower spine.
“Freeze!”
A brilliant flash instantly lit the room as the thief triggered a spell. Blinded, the Justicar staggered and felt a blast of heat crack out from the hell hound’s maw.
“Cinders! Damn it!”
Someone screamed in pain, and another figure raced past the Justicar toward the door. The whole rear end of the room was in flames with a thief dead and burning in the middle of the floor. The hell hound’s manic gringlowed in the firelight as his red eyes shone with glee.
Burn! Burn! Die-die-die!
“For the gods’ sake!” The Justicar’s vision was a mad blur ofdancing lights. He rescued his backpack and ran out onto the gallery above the tavern’s common room. “Escalla!”