I found him at his booth in the market—a squat figure with greasy gray skin wrapped in a toga. He was an Urtek, one of the most common races here.
He also had a damned good nose. I drifted into the booth and pretended to examine his selection of crossbow arrows incongruously situated between the pots and trowels.
Sartoriouk turned from his departing kitchenware customer and said, “I never thought I’d see you again.”
I had my cloak hood high, but it didn’t surprise me that he’d sniffed me out. Noses were the most prominent features on Urtek faces. “I don’t kill easily,” was my reply.
The small eyes narrowed. “Heard Xumi met her match.”
I shrugged. “Was destined to happen sooner or later.”
He planted substantial three-fingered hands on his hips. “That the best you can do?”
“Yep.”
“I’ve a mind to kick you out of my booth.”
I grinned, showing a hint of tooth. “You could try.”
He cleared his throat. “Same damned Dragon. So what do you want?”
“I want to know if you’ve stumbled across any weird happenings lately.”
The Urtek stroked his bearded chin. “Weird like what? I don’t have time to chat here. Tell me what you want. And you’d better be able to pay.”
“Reports of weird happenings in virgin realms are my flavor of the day.” I shook my coin purse.
Like a true merchant, he perked up at the jingling coins. “I might have something for you.” He opened a cupboard beneath his till and riffled through what looked like newspapers. It didn’t surprise me—Urtek gathered them like Dragons hoarded treasure. They were his primary source of information.
He waved one at me, before searching through, licking his thick finger repeatedly to turn the pages. Familiar with the process, I waited until he unfolded it to reveal an article and handed it to me.
The headline read, “Aliens Visit Gartaka Bar.”
I read it with interest. A youth on his way back from town in the middle of the night had witnessed a “tall, thin, red-eyed guy riding a large horned creature.” He hadn’t been alone—there had been two others with him. They’d tied their mounts to nearby stumps before walking into town and frequenting the local bar. The youth had followed them.
“This paper is always full of garbage,” Sartoriouk pointed out. “But this was weird, even for it. That what you looking for?”
I held up a finger as I was still reading. The paper went on to talk of red-eyed aliens. The reporter had even interviewed several bar patrons, who’d corroborated the story, saying the guy must have been wearing weird corrective lenses, but his teeth were filed and blackened, and he was very tall.
Residing in the virgin realm of Yitar, the youth couldn’t possibly know that the description fit that of a Torshin. The file Tyrez had given me mentioned that Galeran might have one working for him.
I fished out some coins and paid him for his trouble, then handed his paper back. “Do you know Jacques?” I asked.
“The Satyr? Yes, I know him. Seduced my sister’s daughter.”
According to what Haki had told me about the Satyr, it sounded about right. “If you hear anything else like this, can you send it along to him?”
“I suppose.”
I handed him another coin, which garnered a nod from him, before I left his booth. I wound my way through the market until I found myself a spot with solid stone to my back. I dug around in my pack, sifted through several well-worn maps, and selected one for the largest continent in the Yitar realm.
Took me a bit to find Gartaka, as it was in an isolated area. I had been to the Yitar realm before, but never that region. My fingers tapped on the map as I scanned distances to the nearby towns, and I nodded in satisfaction.
Gartaka checked off all the boxes. From its isolated location to the disgusting ecological state that existed throughout that realm, it could be of interest to Galeran. But, more importantly, it didn’t stand alone in that area—two other towns were within easy striking distance.
It didn’t mean I was right. It might fit the pattern I thought I’d detected, but so did thousands of other locations across the realms.
Galeran was both intelligent and cautious. Bellatis were not only trained warriors, but also strategists. They would never stage a coup without thoroughly scouting the location first.
