[Lerune]: 6.Untitled.Part of CH 1

Chapter One


It was early morning, and the sky was awash with color as the sun climbed slowly from its slumber to bathe the world in warmth and light. The scattered, puffy clouds were tinged with pinks and reds as the new day stretched before all. Climbing ever higher in the sky, the sun’s rays touched many places and things the world over: frozen, ice-capped mountains, warm sand-covered beaches, dry, barren desert. It touched the robin on her morning foraging, it touched the deer as he grazed in the meadow. It touched the roan mare and her blue-cloaked rider as they traveled dusty paths in the early morning.

“Only a few hours travel today, girl,” the blue rider said as he patted her neck, “we should be there by lunch.”

The roan mare whinnied in response. Onward, she trotted, knowing that ahead of them, the town of Sarchelle waited.

Across the plains, nestled between the sprawling Great Wood and the winding Selt River, the small town of Sarchelle yawned in the growing day. The gallop of wild horses thundering across the plains awoke some from slumber, others were woken by the sweet morning breezes that filtered through their unlocked windows. Slowly, life showed its face, as people emerged from their simple, log homes to greet the dawning day.

Around and throughout the town, the grasses swayed lazily in the winds, and the full, green leaves of the distant trees rustled in unison with the gentle whistle of the meadow’s crop. The light scent of wildflowers lilted upon the winds, as little sprites and faeries danced, unseen, atop their petals. Truly a small town in a large world, Sarchelle was a quaint little place. It was the most prominent of all the little villages that had come to litter the land here. For the most part, the laws of the wilderness ruled day to day life, as everything revolved around the rains, the sunshine, and the abundance of game the forests provided. The folk were simple. Life was hard, but rewarding. People valued the works of their hands over fancy goods, and a good cup of hot broth over friendly conversation would get you farther than the shiniest piece of gold.

The inhabitants of Sarchelle were all followers of the great Gillock Sarchelle, a fabled explorer from distant lands. He traveled the world, saw culture, fought great beasts, and defeated cunning foes all across the known world, and eventually settled here, in the wild lands of Roursch. The untamed beauty of the region called to his heart, and he sought to build a settlement within it. The town he began was named Sarchelle, after his own namesake, and wanderers from far and wide eventually came to seek their fortunes. They came to escape the bustle of the civilized lands: lands where wizards owned shops and sold dangerous magics to anyone with enough coin to claim them. They came to be closer to the land, to live beside the wilderness in unison. They came to enjoy peaceful nights in the serenity of their cabins and awaken in the mornings to the echoing calls of the larks as they soared through the woods on their morning flights. They came to be simple. They came to be free.

And so, the town of Sarchelle had prospered. Eventually, smaller towns sprang up around it, each with their own hopes and dreams of a life closer to the land and farther away from the wealthy kings and queens of the settled lands.  The rains and warm sunshine brought plentiful crop. The trees and the river provided ample hunting, and the good-natured ways of the people brought wealth of character.

But life in such simplicity has its dangers as well, and it was this fact that brought the blue rider ever closer. 



Kronin stood staring into the dying flames of the fire, his mind wandering, dancing from topic to topic, but never resting on one, full thought.  The heat from the fire made him drowsy, and he though of how much sleep he had missed lately. Many nights of tossing and turning was beginning to take its toll on his body. He thought for a moment on his fatigue, then onto his empty shelves, and then onto the need to fill them again. He closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out intrusive thoughts, but was unsuccessful. He sighed a deep, expressive sigh, and then turned when he became aware that he was no longer alone.

“Kronin?” his apprentice, Balton called to him, “Kronin, you have a visitor.”

Removing his gloves, and wondering secretly why he had bothered to put them on, Kronin tossed a few pieces of wood on the fire in an attempt to give it further life, and made his way into the storefront. An old man with a broken sickle was the sight that greeted him, and he smiled brightly when he saw Kronin.

“Just the man I need to see,” he began, “I got this busted sickle, and I need something that’s not, well, not quite so busted,” he ended with a laugh.

Kronin smiled as the old man’s infectious laugh reached his ears.

“I would be glad to help you out, Gorm,” he stated, “but, you can see, I have nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” the old man asked thoughtfully, stroking his full, gray beard, “I had seen that, but I hoped you might have had some stuff in the back. You sure you don’t have anything back there?”

“I’m sorry, Gorm,” Kronin replied, “but with all the excitement around town lately, I’ve been selling so much that I just can’t keep up with the demand. Just a few days ago, they started in on my farming equipment. I sold the last sickle I had yesterday.”

“Just my luck. I should have figured...”

“Well, I can repair the sickle you brought in as well as I can, but I’m afraid I don’t have anything suitable to sell you right now, Gorm.”

“That won’t help me, Kronin,” he replied, “I got crops to harvest, and it can’t be put off. I understand, though. Those kids are important, but we still need something to feed them when they get back.”

“You really think they’ll turn up?”

“Sure do,” Gorm replied, leaning against the counter, his old, twisted back straightening for a moment with pride, “they probably just got turned around out there. Those are our kids -- they come from strong people. It’ll take more than a twisting forest to get the best of them. Wouldn’t surprise me if they found them tomorrow and they was still playing games,” he ended with a large, gap-toothed smile.

“We can only hope,” responded Balton, the young, fair-haired apprentice who helped Kronin in his shop, “it’s been going on seven days today...I think a lot of the town’s people are about to give up on finding them.”

“Been that long, eh?” Gorm said with knitted brow, then, standing up once more, he continued, “well, I can’t be standing around here all day when I got crops to harvest. I had best be getting on back and figuring out a way to get them all in. I‘ll leave that sickle here with you, Kronin.”

“I’ll get to work on it right now, and either I or Balton will run it out to you later on.”

“I’d appreciate it, and I’m sure you’ll be able to rig it up just fine. With a wave, the old farmer headed toward the door. Just as he reached it, Kronin called out:

“Hey, Gorm! I promise as soon as all this mess clears up, I’ll start on making you as fine a blade as you’ve ever seen on a sickle, no charge.”

”No doubt, my boy, no doubt. I look forward to seeing that -- you’re the best smithy in the village.”

As the door slammed closed behind the old farmer, Balton turned to Kronin, “You are the only smithy in town; he realizes that, doesn’t he?”

“Of course he does,” Kronin replied, heading toward the back of the shop, “but, if I am the only one, then I have to be the best now, don’t I?” he added with a wink.

Balton laughed.

It didn’t take long for Kronin to fix the sickle Gorm had brought in. The blade was still in tact, it more or less needed a new handle, which he could provide fairly easily. After lunch, he left the store to Balton while he delivered the sickle to Gorm’s farm. After some polite conversation, he made his way back to his little shop, sneaking in the back to avoid Balton so that he could be alone with his thoughts, once again. Going back to his fire, he debated on making a sword…something to get his mind focused. Yes, that would do it, and he began rounding up the necessary tools.

“Kronin, do you think they will turn up?” he heard Balton say, moments later. Looking up, he saw that the boredom of a dead shop was getting to Balton as well, and he had snuck into the back of the shop, hoping to break the monotony by getting Kronin to talk.

Kronin wiped the sweat from his brow as he stood over the fires where he had begun to heat the beginnings of a much-needed blade. Gripping his large iron tongs tightly, he motioned for Balton to man the bellows. Then, he lifted his head and looked off into the distance, his mind wandering for a moment. Balton had been right earlier: it was going on seven days since the four children had been seen within the protective boundaries of Sarchelle, and he feared for their safety. This little town had barely been standing for thirty years, and the wilds of this land, Roursch, were still very much untamed. The hunters here only traveled so far into the woods, and never at night. It was here, the wolves roamed the forests freely, as they should, and the circle of life waned and ebbed just as it was meant to the whole world over. Though he hoped within his heart that the weeping parents might see their children again, Kronin still felt that too much time had passed...he doubted the children would ever return.

“Kronin?” Balton said.

“I don’t know, Balton,” he began, “ I truly don’t. I know what I hope.”

“I agree,” Balton replied, “I remember all the times I played as a child in the woods...they could turn on you, you know? One minute you’d just be completely off track, but I always seemed to find my way back. Maybe that’s what will happen with them.”

“Perhaps...”

“You know, though,” Balton rattled as he fed the searing flames, “I still wish I could do something...but I got no business going out there in the woods now...they’d have to send a search party after me.”

“No doubt,” Kronin laughed, “but staying in town and helping me here is helping, Balton, the people need supplies and that is where we come in.”

Kronin thought for a while on what he had said as he lifted his hammer and began to strike the glowing metal. With steady, rhythmic movements, he brought the hammer down time after time, each strike making a loud noise that reverberated through the shop. The steady rhythm of his tinkering always carried his mind away to far off places, but today, like the last several days, his mind could not get beyond the bordering forest, where some children may still have been wandering, lost and alone. He thought about them often during his day, as that was solely the reason people were frequenting his shop. He was grateful for the boost in business, yet saddened by the reason behind it. He had taken to letting Balton run the counter in the last few days, because every sale made him think of Suri…

Suri was a the daughter of his father’s brother, his cousin and childhood friend.  She and Kronin had played in the forests around Sarchelle many times, even getting a little lost themselves, here and there. She was so curious, always getting them both into sticky situations which gave them wonderful memories to share now that they were adults. They had grown up side by side, with her being born three summers after he was. Kronin was the oldest of eight boys, so he tended to think of Suri as the younger sister he didn’t have. Since her father had passed away, her mother was left with only a small spice stand in town and two daughters to care for. Though Kronin took it upon himself to take care of them as best he could, checking on them daily, he knew he was a poor substitute for his uncle. This was even more evident to him lately, because of Pyka…

Suri’s little sister, Pyka, was one of the missing children...

Everyday, it became harder and harder for Kronin to resist the urge to take up searching on his own. He, like Balton, knew he had no business heading off into the wood on his own, but every moment Pyka and her friends remained within the dark of uncertainty, Kronin’s heart ached. He knew that many people were out looking, and he knew that his shop had helped supply some very able-bodied men, whose knowledge of the woodlands was vast compared to his own. What he knew was the anvil and the hammer, and it was what he could do to help...but now, now that his shelves were empty, Kronin thought more and more about how else he could help Suri’s family as he submerged the glowing blade in water.

The loud hiss of the hot metal as it hit the water jolted Kronin back to his little shop. He held up the cooling blade for inspection and frowned. It was terrible, even for just having begun. His mind had been on anything but that blade as he had worked. With a disgusted look, he tossed the crude sword aside, and vowed to start on it anew the following morning. It was getting close to closing time he realized, as he stood to stretch. He couldn’t think of a single reason why he should stay, so he began to clean up, thinking more of Pyka and where she might be. Finally, he motioned to Balton to lock up the front of the store as he grabbed a poker and put out the fire for the evening.

“Sorry sir, but we were just getting ready to close up for the night,” he heard Balton saying over the crackling of the charcoal. He stood, wiping his brow and cocked his head, straining to hear what was being said.

“I see,” an unfamiliar voice replied, “I was just curious. I wondered if you had any better wares than what I carry now...I, of course, am willing to pay a fair sum.”

Kronin heard the tinkle of gold coins as a man tossed a bag down onto the counter in front of Balton. As he made his way to the storefront, he saw a tall, well-muscled man facing his apprentice. He stood straight and eyed Balton directly. He was dressed in a rich blue cloak, high boots and a leather tunic and breeches. At one hip was the polished silver hilt of a great sword, at the other, a well-crafted leather pouch. He wore only one glove, and it was on his sword hand. Kronin watched him with much curiosity. Such a man had never stood in his humble shop before. The man scanned the store with disdain as he saw that most of the shelves were bare.

“Balton,” Kronin began, “do not turn away a customer. We’re not so busy that we can’t wait around a few moments to help an honest man.”

The man nodded.

“A true business man,” he replied, “but it seems your shop is nearly empty...unless there is stock in the back, I don’t see anything worth my time.”

“I’m sorry about that, friend,” Kronin began, “but we have had some very unfortunate events befall our town and we found ourselves in need of arms. I am only now beginning to be able to replenish my weapon stocks from the high demand. Just this morning, I began crafting a sword similar to the one you carry, but it won’t be done for several days.”

“I see,” the man said flatly, “and I thank you. But I will be leaving your town well before you can finish the weapon, though I appreciate your offer.” 

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Balton interjected, “what brings you to our town anyway? You are obviously a man of travel, and our town is so small...”

“I heard you had a problem with keeping up with your young folk,” the man quipped.

Balton looked surprised, and stammered with his response for a bit.

“Where did you here that?”

“Nebbish, if you must know,” the man began, brushing unseen dust from his shoulder, “seems like a man can hear a little bit of everything there. Especially where this place is concerned. I doubt there is a person in Nebbish that doesn’t believe Sarchelle is cursed.”

Kronin laughed, but Balton was getting angry.

“Cursed? That is the silliest thing I have ever heard,” he retorted.

“I didn’t say I agreed with them, I only relayed to you what was said. I am here to offer my services in finding your lost children, curse or no curse.”

“Lost? Hardly!” Balton responded, “they just got a little turned around out there. We’ll find them in no time.”

“Of course you will,” the man sneered, “you’ve done a marvelous job so far. Seven days of searching without a single clue.”

Balton began to speak but Kronin, sensing that his pride was about to make a fool of him, quickly silenced him.

“Well, friend,” he began, “we’re grateful for any help you could give us. We aren’t particular on who finds them, as long as they make it home safely. If you are wanting to help search for the children, then we’re on the same side. No sense in fighting over our views of why it happened until we can rest easy knowing they are alive.”

Balton silenced and looked to Kronin.
“Wise words for a smithy,” the man began, then extending his hand, he stated: “Talon.”

“A pleasure, Talon,” Kronin responded with a firm handshake, “I am Kronin Velanor of Sarchelle.”

“Just Talon,” the man replied.

Kronin nodded.

“So, you came all this way to volunteer your services,” he began, “I didn’t realize word had traveled so far...”

“No,” Talon interrupted.

“No, what?” Kronin asked, puzzled.

“You said volunteer,” he responded, “I do not intend to volunteer anything. I expect payment for my services.”

Balton snickered.

“Payment?” he said, “and why should we pay you anything?”

“Do you want to know where they are?”

“Not bad enough to pay some outsider with a --”

“Yes, we do” Kronin spoke over Balton.

“Then that is why you should pay me. I can promise you that if those children are in those woods, I will find them. I cannot say it will be today, or tomorrow, but I can say that when I give my word, I will always see my job through. Is that so ridiculous a thing to pay for?”

Kronin thought about the money he had made in the past week, and then about Suri. In only a moment, she and her mother would be passing by his shop, as they did every night after leaving their spice stand in town, so that Kronin could walk them home. He thought about them searching daily for herbs and roots in the woods that kept their Pyka from them. He thought about them mixing their potions and spice bags as their minds wandered aimlessly to horrid visions of what could come to pass.  Inside, he ached with desire to end the suffering they felt. He had acquired a small bit of wealth during this busy week. Before, he had wanted to search, he had wanted to help, but he dared not venture out on his own. Now, here was this Talon offering his services, and he would need a guide...

“No, my good man,” Kronin began, “that is not such a ridiculous thing for you to ask. What price had you in mind?”

“I had hoped to speak to a chieftan, or mayor,” Talon scratched his chin.

“I understand, but my little cousin, Pyka, is one of the missing, and I would be willing to bet I am more likely to pay what you ask,” Kronin replied with a wink.

Talon smiled, and his eyes shone brightly as Kronin began to speak the language he loved most of all.

“Very well then, one-hundred gold pieces, and I find all there is to find in those woods pertaining to the children you seek,” he said, eying Kronin.

“I will pay you fifty gold pieces, up front, right now. All I ask is that you allow me to guide you through the wilderness. You’ll need someone along that is a little more familiar with the terrain,” Kronin began, “and when we return with what there is to be found, I promise you fifty more.”

Talon stroked his chin as he mulled over the smithy’s offer. Already, he liked Kronin, admiring his wisdom and the fact that his handshake was firm and strong: a symbol of good character. It was true that he would benefit from having a guide, and he was getting what he asked for without question. In his mind, there was nothing to contemplate.

“You have yourself a deal, smithy,” he responded, extending his hand to Kronin to bond his word. 

“Have you a place to stay, Talon? We can leave on the morrow, but no sooner, as most of the shops are closing for the night, and we’ll need supplies,” Kronin asked.

“I saw a small inn,” began Talon, “that will suffice.”

“Ah, the Silver Sickle. As you wish -- it is a small inn, but the food in the tavern is the best you’ll find. If you would like, I will meet you there later on, for now, I have business to attend.”

Talon nodded.

“Shortly then,” he answered, “we have a route to plan.”

“Yes, shortly,” Kronin nodded, and with that, the mysterious drifter who called himself Talon was gone.


* * *


As Jerrick looked around him, all he could see was a dense, vaporous fog. He could make out the presence of trees near him, but the fog was so thick that he could not actually see them. Stumbling blindly, he held his hands out before him to try and find his way in the engulfing darkness. His hands touched the fog-drenched bark of a nearby tree and he braced himself against it, still squinting into the darkness to try and make out where he was.

In the distance, he heard children whimpering. He opened his mouth to call out to them, but no sound would come. Slowly, what looked to be a sunrise began to vaguely light the area, and Jerrick could see the stone remnants littering the woods all around him. Dirty faces of broken statues looked up at him, their features worn by years and years of erosion. Crumbling rubble which had appeared to be stone columns and buildings lay strewn all about, glistening with dew as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

As his surroundings began to come into focus, Jerrick looked to see that, in the midst of all of haze, there seemed to be something very dark and ominous ahead of him, past all the rubble at his feet. What was it? A cave, perhaps? The sound of whimpering children grew more distinct, and he began to move toward the cave…

And then, as suddenly as it came into view, it disappeared completely, and Jerrick bolted upright in his bed, sweat pouring down his face. He slammed his fist into his thigh and winced. He had seen more this time than ever before, but still could not place the cave. Rubbing his face with both hands, he looked out the window and saw that it was late in the day. He had dozed off again. No doubt he was overdue at the Silver Sickle.


* * *


“I don’t like the look of him,” Balton quipped as he helped Kronin clean up.

“His look?” Kronin inquired with a puzzled expression, “His look was astounding, as a man very proud of himself. What you disliked, young Balton, was his disposition.”

Balton smirked, and was just about to make a snide comment when a light rapping was heard at the door of the shop. Kronin removed his blackened apron and made his way to the door. Stopping short, he turned to Balton.

“Perhaps it is best if we don’t mention this to Suri just yet,” he said, “at least not until after I have talked with Talon some more. If she finds out I am paying him, she will insist on paying instead, and I know they cannot afford it.”

Balton nodded, then shook his head as he looked away. Kronin was as good of a man as anyone would ever hope to meet, this was certain. He began to smile as Kronin opened the door, trying his best to put on a cheery face for Suri and her mother. As the door opened, it framed two women, both solemn and silent.

As usual, Suri was wearing her long, dark auburn hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, its curling waves cascading down to the small of her back. She wore a simple dress, its bottom dirty from her daily trips into the woods. She carried a woven basket, filled with the remnants of her days gathering. Both Kronin and Balton noted that it was emptier than usual. Behind her stood a withered version of herself, Reyna, a woman whose russet tresses had long been streaked by gray, and whose hands had been gnarled by years of hard work, and it was she that broke the silence.

“Are you ready?” Reyna asked, looking to Kronin.

“We were just closing up,” Kronin answered and he and Balton accompanied Reyna and Suri out, closing and locking the shop for the night, and what Kronin knew would be for more nights to come. As they waved farewell to Balton, and headed through town, Kronin talked lightly of his day, trying with great difficulty to lighten the mood that seemed to encase their trio like a heavy blanket he was unable to cast away. He noticed Suri’s dark eyes seemed lost in thought, and when he stopped talking, she turned to him with a smile and began:

“I saw the most interesting thing today,” she began, “this man rode into town. I saw him talking to the stable hands when I came back into town. You should have seen him, Kronin, he had the most beautiful blue cloak I have ever seen. An outsider, of course. And,” she broke to giggle a bit, “he said his name was Talon.”

“Suri, dear,” her mother smiled, “we already talked this over. I still think he meant the horse’s name was Talon. No one would actually call themselves Talon…what kind of name would that be?”

“I am almost certain I heard him say his name was Talon. Talon wouldn’t be a very good name for a horse…” Suri answered.

“Well, it is an even sillier name for a person.” Reyna replied.

Suri looked down.

Kronin looked from Reyna to Suri. He loved them both as only a man could love family, and he understood Reyna’s callous. She was a woman who had to raise a family on her own in the wake of her husband’s death, so she had to be strong. Her strength, however, tended to intimidate Suri, even as she grew, unnoticed by her mother, into an adult.

“Actually, Suri is right,” Kronin stated, “he introduced himself to me as Talon. He seemed to be a very interesting man. He never mentioned what town he came from, only that he had heard about our ‘situation’ and wanted to help.”

Reyna seemed unimpressed.

“Talon,” she was muttering absent-mindedly, “sounds a foolish name. Who would actually admit that was their name? What, was he raised by eagles?”

Kronin smiled to himself.

“So, I did hear him right,” Suri said quietly with a soft smile, “and he wanted to help?”

“He certainly did,” answered Kronin, “he was in looking at my arms supply, which, as we know, is no supply. He mentioned it to me while we were talking. Actually, I am supposed to meet him in the tavern after I walk you home.”

“I’d like to come with you, Kronin,” Suri began.

“Well, it isn’t going to be anything interesting, really,” Kronin responded, “I am just going to explain a bit about the woods, maybe suggest a few paths he might inspect, that sort of thing. I’ll just familiarize him with the area, nothing exciting, Suri.”

“I could help. I know the woods pretty well. I mean, I gather herbs and roots there every day, there are even a few places I go that no one--”

“Oh, I know --” Kronin began just as Reyna also spoke:

“Suri, he is trying to tell you that he doesn’t want you to come, child. Besides, the tavern is no place for a girl your age. What would people say? I think Kronin is perfectly able to tell this man what he needs to know. You are an herb-gatherer, Suri sweetie, I don’t think you’ll be much help.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, biting her lip.

Sensing that she had been a bit harsh, Reyna added, “I know you want to help, Suri, but there isn’t much we can do. We are gardeners, dear, not hunters.”

There was an awkward silence. Kronin thought to himself that Suri was right. She did know the woods far better than he did, and she knew places Pyka would have known. He quietly scolded himself for underestimating her, as her mother often did It made perfect sense that she should meet Talon with him. As long as he could sidestep the topic of payment…

“I don’t think anyone would say anything at all about Suri joining me for dinner at the tavern,” Kronin stated, “and maybe Suri will know of a few places I don’t know. After all, I am not in the woods as often as I was when we were kids, that is for sure.”

Suri’s eyes looked brighter, and she looked at her mother.

“Well,” Reyna sighed, “if you want her to go with you, Kronin, then you know best.”

“I do,” he replied, winking at Suri, who smiled softly to herself and looked away.

After they had made it to Reyna and Suri’s house at the edge of town, Kronin waited patiently for Suri to change into a nicer dress and clean up a bit from foraging the forest for herbs and roots. Within moments, she kissed her mother good-bye and made her way back into town with Kronin.

“Thank you,” she began, “she never would have let me come if you had not said something.”

“I know,” he smiled with a chuckle, “she tends to forget at times that you’re not a child anymore. And I think you are right, you probably know more about the woods than I do, and he may have questions that you can answer better than I can.”

Reaching back, she let loose her long curls. As she talked, she fussed with her thick tresses to make them smooth and neat. Kronin laughed.

“Why, Suri, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were preening,” he stated.

She flushed red.

“Well,” she stammered, “he was dressed so nicely…I‘d feel so, out of place, if I didn’t try to look a little presentable…”

Kronin laughed out loud and pulled her over to him, hugging her shoulders and kissing her forehead. She laughed as well and pulled away, pretending to be aggravated, but smiling through the grimace she tried to give him. Kronin was the closest thing to an older brother she would ever have. Since the death of her father some years ago, Kronin and his family had been very kind to Reyna, Suri and Pyka. It was custom, in a sense, to do this. By marrying Greth Velanor, Reyna had become part of the Velanor Clan, and after his passing, the rest of the clan rallied to her side to help her keep things together. Over time, Kronin took more and more of that responsibility from his father, since he and Suri had always been so close.                                                                  
Within moments, they arrived at the tavern, with Suri chatting away happily, a thing that Kronin noticed she always did away from her mother. Making their way inside, they looked around the room for Talon. As Kronin spotted him at one of the back tables, Donal, the barkeep, called out to Kronin and threw his arms up in greeting.

“Smithy!” he cried.

“Donal,” Kronin nodded.

“The usual?,” Donal asked.

“Oh, no thanks,” he replied, “we’re meeting up with someone. But thanks all the same.”

Taking Suri’s arm, he lead her to the back of the tavern, where Talon immediately stood to greet them.

“Kronin,” Talon began, extending his hand, “and…” he trailed off looking at Suri.

“This is Suri,” Kronin replied as they shook hands, “she is my cousin, and her sister, Pyka is one of the missing.”

“My apologies,” Talon said nodding respectfully toward her.

Suri’s cheeks flushed pink.

As they were seated, Kronin began, “Talon, good man, if you like quail, then I recommend it. Possibly the best dish in the house.”

Talon laughed, “Quail I can do,” he said.

“Well, I’ll have them fix up three platters for us, and we’ll get down to business.” Kronin replied, then bit his lip. He just knew he was going to have a hard time keeping Suri from knowing about the money if he didn’t get a free moment with Talon. Turning to Suri, he spoke, “Why don’t you ask Donal to whip up three house specialties, Suri?”

Looking surprised, she stammered, “S-sure,” and she stood to leave the table. 

As she stood, Talon also stood, and both she and Kronin looked puzzled. 

Seeing their faces, Talon responded, “I was raised to acknowledge when a lady leaves or sits at a table.”

“Oh,” she smiled, and quickly turned away. Kronin chuckled, as he knew she hurried away to hide her flushed face.

“I would prefer if we not discuss payment tonight, Talon,” Kronin whispered, when he was sure Suri was out of earshot, “Suri is family, and she would want to help me pay you, which I know she cannot afford to do, so I’d prefer to hide that little detail from her, if possible.”

“Lying has never been a thing I admire in any man,” Talon replied, “but when done for an honorable reason, I believe I can tolerate it.”

“Well, it is only theoretically lying…” Kronin began hopefully.

“True, more like ‘obscuring the facts,’ and done so for a worthy reason, so there will be no talk of funds. That is a done deal anyway,” Talon winked.

“Thank you,” Kronin smiled.

Talon looked over Kronin’s head, and immediately stood again. Kronin looked around to see that Suri had returned and was pulling out her chair to be seated. He chuckled at her red cheeks as she watched Talon sit only when she was seated.