I could feel the effects of the enchantment wear off. I coughed quietly and was delighted to hear the sound of my own voice, but then immediately froze. She was nearby. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel her, the Dragonfear edging its way into my thoughts. (And I am never frightened.) The temple was huge. By far the biggest room I had ever been in. I could hardly see the roof it was so far away. Then I heard a huge intake of breath, like the sound of the ocean crashing onto a stone shore, a sharp tang filled the air and she spoke in a deep cavernous voice. “So, you thought to best me, little one?” And then everything went very dark.
I remember thinking “This is so unfair; I was only here for the book that I had been promised”. I had done everything that I was supposed to and a lot more. Even more impressive when you consider that I am half the size of the big ‘uns and not that good at fighting. About as useful as a Goblin at your sister’s birthday party as my brother used to say. Well, that would be me normally in a fight. I’ve never been good at much, not healing, or herbs, but I am good at getting into small places, and dangerous ones as it turns out. Not that I’ve ever met a goblin or have a sister for that matter. I had two brothers, but one of them left when I was very little, and the other keeps talking about goblins. Which is not helpful. It was looking for my older brother that started this whole mess. Well, that and the promise of information on my Pappa.
I just know that once I get my hands on that book and find out about Pappa I will be on my way and this dragon can keep her gold. I like shiny stuff, but this is not the day for that. I know, it’s ironic, we halflings have a reputation for breaking into Dragon’s Lairs and making off with the biggest, shiniest stone we can carry, but I am not responsible for those stories, only my own. Until a few days ago my story was wholly unremarkable. The sort of story really not worth telling unless you were bored there was no-one around that you really liked, and the beer was too warm.
“Holly!” The skinny man said lightly, “Come in, have a drink.” The room was warm, dark, and smelled like cinnamon. Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows and thick yellow candles threw their pale light all over the embossed, purple walls so shadows danced where they shouldn’t, and you weren’t able to tell what time of day it was. This was, I am sure, exactly the effect that the Master of the Thieves Guild of Daggerford was looking to achieve. He smiled, his face turning towards me. “How are you keeping?”
“I’m fine sir.” I stammered, taking the enormous goblet of wine he offered me in both hands and looking at it for just half a second too long.
“Oh, don’t worry yourself Holly.” He smiled and nodded his head toward the glass. “If I had wanted you dead, I wouldn’t invite you here to my chambers with witnesses just outside the door, I would have had your throat cut whilst you walked home from visiting that pretty halfling you were with yesterday evening. Iris, isn’t it? Lovely little thing.” He walked around the huge ornately carved dragonwood desk and eased himself into his high back chair.
The Master arched his fingers in front of his thin mouth. “I have a proposition for you.” He said after a short pause.
I swallowed my wine to quickly “Me?”. I hiccupped.
“Yes,” he went on smoothly, “I am aware of a mercenary who is camped outside of the town, who may have information on your brother…”
I interrupted him “And my father?”
“Most likely.” Said the Master. “The only thing is that he is looking for payment and I thought to myself, who better to acquire and deliver such payment than the one who would most benefit from it?” He looked across at me. “Of course, it is your choice. But I thought we might be able to help each other out.”
“Of course.” I said quickly, “what does he want.”
“I am so glad you see things that way.” The Master sat forward. “Here is what you will do.”
The tracker led me across the rooftops of the town centre until we were perched above the top floor window of an imposing house overlooking the town square. It was dark, the late-night air cool, carrying smells of autumn flowers and freshly mowed grass up to the gables.
“Here it is.” The small thief whispered with a wicked grin. “Don’t let the Master down.” And with that he melted into the shadows and was gone. I heard his muffled footsteps receding and rolled my eyes, although no one would see me do so. ‘Amateur.’ I thought to myself. ‘As graceful as a goblin in a brothel,’ as my brother would say, and then chuckled silently to myself.
I dropped onto the narrow ledge in front of the window, my soft leather boots making no noise and looked at the catch on the frame. Holding onto the wooden strut I reached into my jerkin and removed a small, rolled pouch, pulling a thin metal blade out with my teeth. Replacing the pouch, I used the stiletto to slowly work into the tiny gap and freed the lock. The windowpane slowly moved outwards and I pushed my way carefully through the thick curtains and into the room beyond.
The Masters instructions were very clear and useful. Quickly I found my way to the room that held that which I was looking for and making sure that no-one was around, I entered the room. There, in the middle of the room was the desk, just as the Master had said. I went to the third draw on the left-hand side and deftly bypassed the lock. The draw came free without sound and contained only one thing. A scroll bound in black silk. I gasped as I recognised the wax seal on the silk. It was the Head of the Kings Guard. Now I was in a pickle.
I froze where I was. The Head of the Kings Guard was a really powerful man. As adept at magic as he was at fighting. And everyone said he was a good and pious man. He did not live in this house; he was not from this town. What was his seal doing here? What was this scroll? Why did the mercenary want it? Why had I agreed to do this? Well, at least I knew the answer to the last question. I wanted to find my Pappa.
A noise from downstairs skewered my torpor and brought me immediately back to the job in hand. I had a simple choice. Leave, the way I came, without the scroll and never step foot in Daggerford again. The Guild would surely hunt me down and make me slightly less alive than I was now. Or leave, with the scroll and take it to the mercenary camped outside the town walls and learn what information he had.
Whoever lived here would have no idea who I was, there would be no trace of me by the time I left. But this was the property of the Head of the Kings Guard! I stopped to think for far too long when I heard the noise from downstairs again. Whatever I chose to do, I would have to do it soon. Resolving to get as much information on my Pappa as I could, I carefully put the scroll into one of my many pockets and stealthily retraced my steps back to the top floor and the still open window. The scroll felt cold against my shirt, and I was not convinced I was doing the right thing, but I was going to meet this man and find out what he knew.
