a tense smile. A few of the others chuckled behind him.
Penelope stepped forward, dropping her hood. The men gasped when they saw her luminous eyes, then shifted nervously.
“Apologies for the deception,” she said. “The truth is, we’re on a mission for King Richard. Dangerous rebels are in the area, and we think they may be infiltrating the compounds and stealing elixir.”
The men shared nervous glances with each other. I was sure they knew something.
“I appreciate your skepticism, it’s your job to protect Sezomp and you’ve done an admirable job. I’ll be sure to relay my compliments to the king myself personally. However, as I’m sure you understand, discretion is paramount to our mission.”
The men fell back to discuss amongst themselves, shooting us dark glances.
“I have a feeling they’re more sympathetic to the rebels than the elites,” Trevor said under his breath. “Maybe we should have told them the truth.”
After another moment, the men broke their huddle and unlatched the gate, swinging it open. Their eyes trailed us as we entered the compound.
“Word is sure to get back to Richard about this,” Camina said.
“Yeah but we’ll be gone by then.”
Sezomp was larger than I thought. Once we passed through the trees, a long dirt path led to a wide clearing, filled with small log cabins on raised stilts. On the outskirts of the town, flooded fields grew wild rice and sweet potatoes.
But the mood was tense. Doors and windows closed at our approach. In the town center, a wide square held the customary statue of King Richard.
I noted how each compound featured a different portrayal of the royal savior. I wondered if he told us different lies as well. In this one, he posed triumphantly, sword raised, one foot standing on a slain slagpaw. The statue was all stone, except for a gold-plated crown. Trevor frowned at it as we passed.
The buildings around the central square at one time had been painted in bright colors, with elevated facades that made them appear much large than they really were. But the paint had long since faded. And a few of the buildings seemed to tilt dangerously as their front-facing walls sank into the mud.
Of the residents who did pass us, most were older, with hard creases and slumped shoulders, their hair graying at the ends. Near a small herb and flower garden, some kind of shrine had been set up, filled with wooden toys and child-like drawings.
“This place gives me the creeps,” April said. We passed a few barns full of oxen and pigs. Geese strode purposely through the streets, digging for wriggling larva in the soft mud.
Shirtless men worked in open-air factories, forming clay into bricks and stacking them near outdoor kilns. A row of women sat at wheels, spinning low tables and shaping the mud into bowls and urns. In another hall, the pots and dishes were glazed and decorated in earthen colors.
“Their chief export,” Penelope said. The only spots of color in the dismal landscape were bright patches of yellow daffodils, growing like weeds around the buildings.
After visiting Crollust, Sezomp seemed sad, almost tragic, though it was a few steps down from Algrave, it was a world apart from the opulent seaside city.
Still, it wasn’t that bad; it had a kind of rural charm – at least it should have. But an oppressive silence seemed to hang in the air. The work was done without talking or laughter. It was like everyone was under some awful spell.
We found our way to the central tavern, which was starting to fill for the dinner hours, and were served a spicy bean stew with thick brown bread and ale.
We’d almost finished eating when the doors swung open. I saw Camina stiffen, her hand on the hilt of the dagger on her belt. I clenched the vials of elixir in my pocket protectively, hoping we wouldn’t need them.
The men settled into a nearby table, watching us, their swords gleaming in the candles and late afternoon light through the windows.
I recognized at least one of the men from the main gate, along with a clean-shaven man with gray curls and an angular hat. Unlike most of the inhabitants, he was wearing a clean blue suit that looked out of place and fit poorly.
“I’m Mayor Beecham,” he said, pulling a chair up to our table, across from Trevor and Luke.
“I was notified of your arrival and wanted to make sure there’s nothing you need.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I understand you’re on