they screeched loudly against the wood floor as it scampered up the stairs.
The old woman gave Barclay a smile. Most of her teeth were missing. “Would you like some tea?”
Barclay would actually love a cup of chaga mushroom tea after so many days spent wandering in the cold, but he didn’t want any here. He rubbed his arms, but his hair wouldn’t stop standing on end. He was considering giving up on the creepy Bog’s Inn and finding Viola when a man appeared at the foot of the stairs.
“What can I do for you?” he asked in a chipper voice. He was clean-shaven and wore expensive clothes, and his teeth—unlike the innkeeper’s—were all accounted for and very straight. He was even sort of handsome, like a hero from an adventure story. “My name is Soren Reiker.”
Barclay shook Soren’s hand. “My name is Barclay, Barclay Thorne. I’m looking for someone who might be able to help me remove a Beast Mark.”
Soren gave him a sympathetic smile. “Took on a bit more than you could handle, did you?”
“It was all an accident,” Barclay explained.
“I’m sure it was,” said Soren kindly. “But it’s a tough job, removing a Mark. There are some questions I need to ask, as I’m sure you understand.” He placed his hand on Barclay’s shoulder, making him wince from his healing wound where the Lufthund had slashed him. “I charge fifty thousand kritters for all Familiar class Marks.”
That seemed a good deal higher than the posts Barclay had seen at the Guild, but Soren quickly soothed his nerves.
“It’s expensive, I realize. But like I said, it’s a tough job. And not many people can do it, you know.”
Barclay withered. “I only have Elsewheres money.”
Soren’s grip on his shoulder tightened a bit.
“That’s too bad. It’s not worth very much if the people of the Elsewheres don’t let us spend it. But don’t look so down. A boy your age with a Familiar class bond can get a good job in this town. Tell me, what sort of Beast is it? A Dizzisnuff? A Ziggopatch? They’re well suited to apothecary shops—”
“It’s a Lufthund.”
Soren’s eyes widened.
“That can’t be right. Lufthunds are exceedingly rare and difficult for even an experienced Lore Keeper to bring down. There are few Beasts like them in the whole Woods!”
Barclay hesitated. Viola had sounded quite sure, but it had all happened so quickly. She could easily have been mistaken. Barclay had always been more inclined to believe grown-ups.
“I’m not sure,” Barclay admitted. “But I think that’s what the Mark looks like.”
Soren paused for a moment, then he smiled wider. “Well, let’s figure that out for you. I’ll do it free of charge. After all, it’s important to know what Beast you’ve bonded with.”
He steered Barclay in the direction of the stairs, and the two climbed up to Soren’s rooms. They were clean and polished, unlike the rest of the inn. He had a number of papers strewn about his desk, along with several jars. Barclay recognized a few from the items Viola once had, like the bubbling green goo and lump of dead bugs.
“Let’s start with examining the Mark,” Soren said. “Can I take a look at it?”
Barclay shrugged off his heavy overcoat and showed Soren his shoulder. The angry gashes across it had stopped swelling, but they still burned a vicious red. The gold Mark of the wolflike Beast was visible below it.
Soren sat down on a stool and put on a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. “Looks like he took a chunk out of you.” He gingerly pressed on the Mark, and Barclay winced. “What do you know about Lufthunds, Barclay?”
“Not much. I know they’re Mythic class. And I remember how it looked. Like a wolf.”
“Yes. Lufthunds appear rather canine. At full maturity, they can grow to be four feet tall and six feet long. They’re clever hunters, but not pack animals, like traditional wolves. Their loyalty is hard to earn, but once achieved, nearly unbreakable. Apart from flying Beasts, they are the fastest species in the world. They’ve been known to dissolve completely into wind. Their howls can conjure storms. Their Keepers are also given tremendous speed, and several other wind abilities as well. The powers of a Keeper complement the Beast, you know.”
There was something strange in Soren’s voice, but Barclay couldn’t put his finger on it.
Then a stinging pain shot through his Mark, just like in the Woods before the Styerwurm had attacked. Like a warning, Barclay realized.
Soren reached over to his desk and