Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,11

fell with a crash. The Duergar owner, Olekk, emerged from the back room, his bristling beard whipping about as he sought the source of the commotion.

The Elvaren were smiling once more. “It has succeeded admirably in convincing us how unsuitable is the current setting for our task. We will relish it looking always over its shoulder, until one time soon it looks an instant too late.”

With mocking salutes, they turned and glided out the front doors of the inn. Calming his breathing, Amric resisted the urge to pursue them. An unnecessary conflict here in the open would only serve to involve the city watch, and he could ill afford any such delay if he was to warn Valkarr and Halthak of the danger to them, in particular if more hired blades waited out there in the shadows.

The thunderous approach across the common room reminded him of the risk he had accepted in forcing the hand of the Elvaren. He sheathed his swords and raised his empty hands in apology. The Traug slowed and his rumbling growl subsided in volume, but still he approached, his great thick hands flexing open and shut. Amric looked past him to find Olekk at the bar. He met the Duergar’s suspicious glare as he produced three heavy coins from his money pouch, and then laid them with exaggerated care upon the table. He then raised his open hands and took a step back.

Olekk glanced down to the coins, and then back at Amric. After momentary consideration, he barked an order and jerked his bearded chin back toward the bar. The Traug ground to a halt and fixed Amric with a scowl that spoke volumes about an exhausted supply of free warnings, and then lumbered back to his favored corner of the room. On his way, he righted the table he had overturned, and the care he exhibited in handling it showed he considered the stout oaken furniture as fragile as finest porcelain in his grasp.

Amric started to leave, but paused for a glance back at where the elderly stranger had been sitting. That corner table was empty. Odd, he thought. All the exits from the common room were well visible from Amric’s position, and he had not seen the man pass through any of them. Amric shook his head; the man was a riddle for another day. He strode through the doors and into the afternoon swelter.

Halthak worked his way through the thick of the trade district. A shop owner pressed in at his side, pacing him for a few steps as he hawked his wares with a broad, ingratiating smile. Halthak continued on, shaking his head in what he hoped was a courteous manner as he passed. He knew better than to smile back; baring a mouthful of sharp teeth inevitably caused others to read unintended aggression in his features. He inhaled the rich, heady aromas of spices and cooking food, and his eyes drank in the colors and activity around him. Although his errand in the trade district had been unsuccessful, he had lingered for hours afterward and found a growing affection for the place. Here in Keldrin’s Landing, with its diverse collection of different races and cultures, he was just another in the crowd, no more or less unusual than the next traveler.

He saw several full-blooded Orks standing in a cluster apart from the other races. They were thicker of limb and deeper of chest than he, and they bristled with crude weapons and studded armor. They turned scowls upon him, but did not follow up with the prejudice he could expect in a different setting. He kept a wary eye on them until he was well past, and as a result he did not see the elderly man in his path until he slammed into him.

The air whooshed from Halthak’s lungs and he staggered back, doubling over. Leaning upon his staff to catch his breath and his balance, he looked up to see a slender old man in grey robes. The fellow’s silvery hair was slicked back along his skull, and despite his evident age, his pale, smiling face radiated an intense vitality. The man appeared unaffected by the collision, and Halthak peered past him in disbelief. It felt like he had run headlong into a boulder; surely he had contacted something more solid than this kindly old fellow! The man stooped forward and helped him upright with a grip like cold iron.

“I––I am––” Halthak managed to gasp, still struggling for