a secretive mission, and of course can rely on Sezomp’s full compliance. We serve at the leisure of the king. Live together, die apart,” he said, placing his hand over his heart like he was swearing fealty.
The rest of the inn, while it had already been quiet, was now deathly silent. It seemed like the dozen people at the surrounding tables had stopped moving and leaned closer, no doubt hoping to overhear our conversation. The mayor noticed the unease.
“More beer for my esteemed guests,” he called out. “On my tab of course. As a matter of fact, free drinks for everyone!”
This was met by a chorus of approval. Several of the men downed their metal mugs, tapping them on the side of the table. At least it helped lighten the tense mood.
“There is one thing,” Trevor said, slowly pulling out our maps.
“Later,” the mayor said quietly, pushing them off the table again.
“First, let’s show the town you’re no threat to us. Truth be told, we don’t get many traders, and even fewer elite.” He nodded toward the empty plate in front of Penelope. She frowned at him, crossing her arms. “After you eat, I hope you’ll visit my home for a more private conversation.”
Trevor nodded, folding away the map and stuffing it carefully in his leather satchel.
Conversation began to flow around us, the novelty of our arrival wearing off, as the townsfolk got deeper into their cups.
A few tables away, I noticed a woman quietly sobbing, squeezing a frazzled teddy bear.
“Something is not right here,” I whispered to Trevor. “We need to be on our guard.”
After another half hour the mayor motioned us towards the doors and we followed him outside. Dusk had set in, and bright sparks hovered over the fields.
I felt a moment of dysphoria, thinking that toxic embers were falling inside the compound, and the fields were going to catch on fire, before I recognized the haphazard movement of fireflies. We also passed another shrine, this one with handwritten notes. Several women were lighting candles. Men sat on porches with their long, curved pipes, surrounded in plumes of curling smoke. Several streets away was a tall, two-story house with a wide balcony.
The mayor led us down the hall into a surprisingly cozy living room, with a marble fireplace mantle, thick leather couches and a bookshelf filled with yellowing volumes.
A small piano was placed against the wall.
“Do you play?” Camina asked.
“My daughter did,” the man said, masking a brief look of pain. “Now, you wanted to ask me about your map?”
He cleared the wide dining table, which looked like it hadn’t been used in awhile, disturbing a thin film of dust. Trevor unfolded the map April had given me and pointed out the areas we’d marked.
“We think Sezomp is about here,” he said, pointing. “Though we don’t know for sure,” he said, placing Penelope’s rough, hand-drawn sketch of the compounds on the table.
“We are trying to get here, in an area that was once known as Fanno Creek.”
The mayor looked over Trevor’s maps with interest, before pulling out an official map of the compounds and the new territories. This one was much more detailed, showing each compound in its proper relation to the citadel, as well as marking major geographical features and the remains of fallen cities from before the Culling. Luke and Camina gathered closer around Trevor and the mayor to study it. Jazmine was more interested in the piano; she sat down and began playing a simple tune on the keys. I was drawn to the bookshelf, and was just reaching for a volume when the mayor’s startled gasp made me jerk my hand away.
“The area you’re looking for, Fanno Creek,” he said, his face ashen. “We call it the lurks. But you can’t go there, it’s too dangerous.”
“We understand the risks,” I said. “We aren’t afraid of slagpaw.”
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s much worse. They say it’s the last refuge of the damned, cursed by a foul witch. Those who enter, do not return.”
He reached for a bottle from a liquor cabinet behind him. He seemed almost ready to drink straight from the bottle before he remembered his manners, and pulled out a tray with small crystal glasses.
Then he reached for a smaller glass decanter, and poured something dark into a metal goblet.
“I think you’ll like this,” he said, offering it to Penelope. “Most elite find our blood a little earthy, but my family started experimenting a few decades ago. This vintage was allowed