Book 3: Chapter 40: Sewer Rats
When dragons fight, it is the trees that are burned.
- A Quassian aphorism.
Through a raised visor, I munched on some laverbread, the flavor almost an afterthought for me. Encased in solid steel, I felt more confident and safe. Skipping beside me, Larynda was her usual whirlwind of effervescence. She had decided to wear a dagger at her waist and took with her one of the wooden practice staves I had bought for her long ago. The staff looked a little different now, strange symbols were carved upon it, in the design of animals and plants. Kidu’s work, if I was not mistaken.
Words continued to spill forth from her mouth in a cascade of curiosity and praise. In the midst of her relentless inquiries and scattered compliments, my mind drifted to the events that had led to my current predicament. A task that I would take no pleasure in.
*****
It all started as she had helped me into my plate harness. Whoever Naira had commissioned to repair my armor had done a good job. The thoughtful innkeeper had also acquired for me some iron bolts for my crossbow without any prompting. Free of charge, I hoped.
As we slowly put on my armored skin, I remembered the fight I had with the masked woman in the Silk Quarter. With sufficient levels and points invested into my attributes, I was sure I could eventually match her skill and speed. That was, after all, the nature of the game. What I could not match, at least not yet, were her lithe and flexible motions. An inkling of an idea on how to rectify this formed in the back of my mind. I would require Kidu’s help.
I found the wild man in the common area, drinking already, despite the early hour. His deep laugh was infectious, his brash ribaldry causing some of the female staff to blush. However, some had chosen to linger a touch closer, and a touch longer, than would be expected.