The room was small and even darker than the main gambling hall. Lamps with red shades lit only the table, where a druid sat in an expensive human suit. Behind him, several armed figures stood in the shadows along the wall. They blended almost seamlessly into the furniture, their catlike eyes gleaming as they caught the red light. Garamant was seated at the table.

  "What do you want?" the druid in the suit asked tiredly.

  "I need information. I’ll pay well."

  The druid smirked. In his right hand, he rolled two dice idly between his fingers. Garamant placed a pouch of gold on the table.

  "There’s a hundred in here," he said. "I’ll give more if you tell me the truth. What’s going on in the forest? The people who came in on the airship—are they still alive? And why did you kidnap a man?"

  The druid slowly pulled the gold toward himself. He gave a signal into the darkness, and another druid stepped forward, took the pouch, and disappeared into the shadows, where the clink of coins soon followed.

  "In the forest, we have our own laws," the druid said.

  "I understand that. But this concerns people…"

  "A great war is coming. A war over territory. It doesn’t concern people, but the victor will have the right to rule where the defeated once ruled. Information is expensive. We captured a very valuable hostage. A huge reward has been promised for him, but in wartime, he may be more useful to us alive."

  "What’s so valuable about him? And who gave you the lead on him?"

  "That’s Clan of the Lynx business. All you need to know is that the prisoner won’t be returned for ransom."

  "Fine…" Garamant muttered, peering intently into the druid’s face, but in the crimson light it remained unreadable. "Fine, forget the prisoner. What happened to the others? I know the Clan of the Owl was supposed to attack the airship on the same day you took the hostage. But they didn’t find anyone."

  "They found three people and a druid from the Clan of the Wolf. But my warriors stopped them. We were paid for it. The order was to let those four pass freely to Buttlecreek. They’re of no interest to the Clan of the Lynx."

  "Paid?" Garamant repeated in shock. "By who, damn it?"

  "The same one who hired protection for the rest of the survivors. We were paid a lot of money to make sure those people could leave the forest. A lot."

  "Who?" Garamant leaned forward. "Who paid you?"

  "We don’t reveal our clients," the druid replied calmly.

  "I’ll pay you even more! I need a name! And I need you to keep track of these people while they’re in the forest!"

  "We are tracking them. As long as they’re in the forest, we know their every move. We’ll be able to tell you when and where they leave the forest, and where they go afterward. But right now the route is set: both groups are being led to a village called Buttlecreek. They’ll be there very soon, just a day apart."

  "Listen, druid," Garamant lowered his voice. "Let’s speak openly, shall we? What do you think of people? Of the Kalds who live around you?"

  The druid said nothing, still idly turning the dice.

  "Tell me honestly—don’t you wish they would get out of here, and that the druids could go beyond Regerlim?"

  "What difference does it make what I want?" the druid finally answered after a long pause, a mocking smile flickering at his lips for the first time. "We’ve lived this way for two thousand years. This balance suits us. People are useful to us: they bring what we cannot get ourselves, and they buy our goods at a good price. They spend their money in our gambling houses. Druids have no reason to leave Regerlim—we are bound to this forest and its magic; outside it, we lose our power. I don’t see the point of your question, human."

  "I’m talking about before the white conquerors came. Didn’t druids once live across all of Vaimar side by side with the Nocturns? Look at me! I’m a Nocturn, see? Back then, there was peace and harmony between us. You taught humans much; you and the centaurs stood at the cradle of the first human civilization in Laugdeil… Two thousand years ago, the easterners took the land from both your ancestors and mine. Both our peoples suffered, both regressed. Don’t you want revenge? Imagine it: Laugdeil ruled again by druids, centaurs, and Nocturns. Just like two thousand years ago. All these lesser men wasting their gold in your den could be your slaves instead, building houses for your Clan, planting trees, mining metal… Doesn’t that sound tempting? Help me, and you’ll see it happen in your lifetime."

  "How?" The druid’s smile widened. "How does what you’re asking connect to this utopian picture you’re painting?"

  "You’ll see. I’ll say only this: these people can lead me to what may become the beginning of their end. I have enough resources and influence to destroy the rule of the Alvens in Aktida, and then the Kalds’ rule in Vaimar. But I need what those people are looking for. And I need to know what’s happening, so I can strike at the right moment. Druid, help me. The future I’ve spoken of is near—closer than it has been in two thousand years…" He leaned forward and drew another pouch of gold from his pocket.

  The druid chuckled and was about to reply, but at that moment the curtain behind them stirred, letting in a flicker of dim light from the gambling hall—and with it a druidess in a tiara and feathered cloak, who hurried to the druid’s side, bent over, and whispered something in his ear. The druid’s face immediately grew troubled. He whispered something back in his own tongue and rose from the table.

  "Excuse me," he said curtly. "We can return to this conversation later, if you’re ready to keep paying. But as for the names of our clients—starting from a certain price, long-term business relationships matter more to us than quick profit. And right now we have very, very wealthy clients. I don’t think I have the right to reveal their names without the chieftain’s approval. And the chieftain is currently busy with matters in the forest."

  "He’s busy with the prisoner?" Garamant shouted after him as he followed the oracle to the exit. The druid turned.

  "That is Clan-secret information."

  He vanished behind the curtain. Two druids stepped out of the shadows and took positions on either side of Garamant, gesturing toward the exit. Garamant realized the conversation was over.

  Where’s Maclevirr? he thought, as they led him back into the hall.

  ***

  "You’ve won again. Will you take the money, or play once more?"

  Kairu licked his lips. A hefty pile of gold was already stacked on the edge of the table next to him. Too easy, he thought. He and Rita had been betting in turns, and whenever Rita failed to guess the dice roll, he would just raise the stakes—and then win it all back immediately. Strange that they allowed such shameless cheating in their own establishment. Though, to be fair, it wasn’t every day someone came along who could predict the fall of any dice.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "I’m devilishly lucky today," he said. "I think I’ll play once more. One last time."

  "Your wager?"

  "But I don’t want to play with you. I want to play with your boss."

  "That’s forbidden."

  "Really? Don’t you want a chance to win it back?"

  "I take bets," the druid replied indifferently. "If you don’t want to play, take your money and free the table. I don’t care. But you won’t be coming back here."

  "Why not?" Kairu asked, genuinely surprised.

  "Because you’re cheating," answered a voice behind him.

  Kairu turned. A druid in a suit stood there, flanked by two enormous bouncers with broadswords. Rita paled. Out of the corner of his eye, Kairu saw her hand instinctively slide toward her belt where her sheath should have been. But their weapons had been confiscated.

  "Me?" Kairu asked with a fake smile. "That’s a very serious accusation, sir… Forgive me, I don’t know your name…"

  "Gobr. This is my gaming house. And never in its history has anyone won more than two rounds in a row. You’ve already won five. My people have been watching you, but they couldn’t figure out what trick you’re using. Still, we’re certain you’re cheating. So get out, and never set foot here again."

  "Well, I never!" Kairu exclaimed loudly, swinging his chair toward the muscle. One quick glance was enough for him to size up the situation in case of a fight. "This is outrageous!" Several patrons and druids at nearby tables turned toward him with displeased expressions. "I, an honest man, come here with my wife to play, and I’m accused of fraud, without a shred of evidence! I’ll complain to the Fighters’ Guild! I’m just lucky today, that’s all! It was she who predicted it!" He pointed at the oracle who had been watching them from a distance.

  "Enough shouting!" Gobr hissed. "Out, or you’ll be carried out feet first!"

  Kairu exchanged a glance with Rita. They needed to stall, he thought, and began deliberately sweeping his winnings into a pouch, carefully counting each coin and biting them for good measure. Just then, another druid rushed to Gobr, chattering anxiously and pointing toward the entrance. There, pushing aside the guards’ blades, six armored warriors were slowly entering the hall.

  Gobr muttered under his breath, turned, and strode toward the newcomers. The two bouncers hesitated, distracted from Kairu and Rita as they watched the scene unfold at the entrance. Kairu leaned to Rita’s ear and whispered:

  "That’s Maclevirr! I saw him in Mainor!"

  "Who are you, and where’s your order?" Gobr demanded crossly as he approached Maclevirr’s squad.

  "You’re the owner?" Maclevirr asked, scanning the room. Every face in the hall was turned toward him and the druid. He spotted Garamant stepping out from behind a curtain at the far end. "This is just a surprise inspection. We want to make sure you’re running an honest business."

  "A surprise inspection?" the druid narrowed his eyes. "Pardon me, sir, but I’d like to see the order authorizing it. We have an arrangement with the Ardrai Fighters’ Guild. We pay taxes—more than some other houses around here. So I don’t understand why…"

  "I’ll explain everything. Bring us your ledgers. And we’ll also check for illegal herbs and drinks. If everything’s in order, you’ve nothing to fear, right?"

  "And you, sir, are also an Alven," Gobr ignored his command. "I’d like to see your papers, to be sure you have the authority to do what you’re attempting. Otherwise, I’ll have to ask my guards to escort you out."

  "Are you threatening me, druid?" Maclevirr asked mockingly. "Do you realize we could return with a much larger force and shut this den down?"

  "Gobr, what’s going on?" Another druid rose from a gaming table—a young one, dressed in human fashion. He strolled lazily over to Gobr and stood at his side. Gobr cast him a frightened glance and hissed something in his own tongue.

  "Nonsense," the young man waved it off, switching to human speech as he addressed Maclevirr. "Forgive me, sir Alven—sorry, I don’t know your name—but if you don’t have an order or warrant for a surprise inspection, you’ll have to leave. And that’s not a threat. That’s how we do things, and Master Einarson, head of the Guild, knows this perfectly well. You can ask him, because I am Bor, son of Hagbar, and I made the arrangement with Einarson personally."

  "Ah, so you’re the crown prince of the Lynx Clan!" Maclevirr exclaimed with satisfaction. "Very good. Well then: surprise inspections are now standard procedure of the Fighters’ Guild, and Einarson has no authority to make side deals with clans or establishments exempting them. We are auditors from Arctarium, and we will see your ledgers and examine these premises."

  "I’m afraid you don’t understand," Bor replied calmly. "In Arctarium, you know nothing about how things are run in Regerlim. I made this deal in Hagbar’s name, and if you break it, then the Ardrai Fighters’ Guild will have personal trouble with Hagbar himself—and with the entire Lynx Clan. Einarson knows the consequences. Tell him that. I know you wouldn’t be here without his knowledge, and if you are, then you’re no auditors from Arctarium at all, but impostors hired by our enemies. What say you?"

  "From threats to insults, eh?" Maclevirr sneered. "But you’re right about one thing, boy: everything happening here is indeed with Einarson’s knowledge. And unless you order your thugs to let us through and meet our demands, I’ll have to arrest you personally. At Einarson’s station, you’ll tell us everything about your deal with him. Because this reeks of bribery—and for that, both you and Einarson could end up in prison."

  Gobr babbled excitedly in Bor’s ear. Bor only smiled.

  "Master Gobr thinks we should part peacefully and not disturb business," he said. "But I think men have grown too bold, and it’s time to put them in their place. In the long run, business will only benefit." He barked a short command in his language, and several druids stepped forward, raising their maces.

  "To arms!" roared Maclevirr, and his men instantly took fighting stances, swords flashing upward.

  Bor stepped back, said something else—and the druids charged.

  The brawl began.

  Players leapt up from their tables, frantically sweeping up winnings, bolting away from the center of the hall toward the walls, trying to slip past the fight to the exit. Some even tried to snatch back lost coins in the chaos, only to be pummeled by guards’ fists for their trouble. Waitresses screamed and fled behind curtains. Tables and chairs crashed down, bottles shattered, mugs rolled across the sticky floor as people shoved and trampled each other in their rush for the door.

  Kairu seized the moment. He sprang up, smashed his fist into one guard’s ear, and wrenched the broadsword from his hands. Rita did the same with the second bouncer. Kairu rose, scanning the hall. He spotted Garamant aiding Maclevirr, striking down a druid with a spell. But Kairu’s eyes sought Bor. A moment later, he saw him: the Lynx Clan prince retreating from the melee, shielded by several bodyguards. Swords clashed with broadswords and maces, crossbow bolts whistled, druids collapsed into splintering furniture. Bottles shattered with loud crashes, and the crush thickened as people slipped on the sticky floor.

  The Guild fighters were fewer, but better trained, better armed, and better armored. Within minutes, about a dozen druids were down, dead or wounded. Maclevirr hadn’t lost a single soldier, and his six men pressed confidently toward the hall’s center. Kairu saw Gobr bolt for a curtained exit; seconds later, Bor, flanked by his guards, ran after him.

  "After them," Kairu said.

  No one noticed them in the crowd as they pushed toward the wall, slipping under the arch just behind the fleeing druids. A dim corridor stretched ahead, a bright doorway glowing at its end. Bor’s guards turned at the sound of pursuit—but in the same instant, Kairu and Rita struck, slashing down with broadswords. Bor cried out and bolted. Kairu tangled two bodyguards in combat, whirling in the narrow passage, striking both sides with lightning speed. Rita darted past, caught Bor from behind, and slammed him to the ground. A few quick strikes from Kairu knocked the guards together, let him slip past and slash both exposed necks. Blood splattered the walls; both collapsed with choking gasps, and Kairu finished them with thrusts to the gut. Breathing hard, he ran to Rita, who had Bor pinned, her knee crushing his throat and his arm twisted behind his back.

  "Thanks, perfect work," Kairu muttered, yanking the druid up and pressing a blade to his neck. "Move!" he barked, cuffed Bor on the head to make him stumble less, and shoved him toward the exit.

  Outside, daylight dazzled them. Blinking, Kairu looked around and instantly spotted Garamant’s carriage waiting across from the main entrance.

  "Rita…" he began, and she nodded wordlessly, bolting forward.

  The driver shrieked and leapt from his perch as the wild-eyed girl charged with raised sword. Rita jumped up, seized the reins, cracked the whip, and just then Kairu shoved Bor inside and leaped in after. The carriage lurched forward, horses galloping away from the "Golden Griffin" and down the forest road.

  "You’ll pay for this!" Bor screamed, struggling. Kairu forced his head into the seat, blade still at his throat. "The Lynx Clan will have revenge! This breaks the treaty! The Ardrai Fighters’ Guild is finished! Men will pay for this! Pay!"

  "Oh, they’ll pay," Kairu said, pressing the blade harder. "But you’ve got bigger problems right now, my friend. We’re not from the Ardrai Fighters’ Guild. We don’t care about your vengeance. And you’re going to tell us something. Otherwise, Hagbar will get your head as a gift. Got it?"

  "What do you want?" the druid groaned.

  "We want to know where the Lynx Clan is taking the prisoner."