The lord sat deep in thought, slowly and absentmindedly leafing through a folder lying before him on the table. After a while, he pulled an inkwell, a quill, and a sheet of paper closer and began writing hastily. The silence was broken only by the distant shouts of coachmen urging their horses on, mixed with curses flung at them by disgruntled pedestrians. Kairu once again pretended to be entirely absorbed in his untouched mug of beer.

  "Has that vagabond already left, milord?" The innkeeper approached Garamant’s table.

  "Don’t worry, I’ll pay for him. How much is it?"

  "Six gold. And another for your ale, if you still remember…"

  "I remember. Here’s the money. By the way, there might be one extra coin in there — keep it for yourself, for the service… and for a couple of questions, agreed?"

  "With pleasure, milord. What would you like to know?"

  "Listen. I need contact with the Lynx Clan, urgently. Do you know anyone in the city they deal with?"

  "Of course, milord. The Lynx Clan owns the gambling house The Golden Griffin on the Steiling Road. You can always find someone there."

  "Is it far from here?"

  "Are you traveling with a triple? Then a half an hour’s ride. Through the South Gate, straight on. It stands right by the road, you can’t miss it."

  "Excellent." Garamant visibly brightened. He snatched up the piece of paper, scribbled something quickly, folded it, and handed it to the innkeeper. "Here, take another gold. Send someone right now to the Fighters’ Guild, deliver this into the hands of Siegfried Maclevirr, understood? I’ll stop by tomorrow."

  "Very well, milord. Safe travels."

  Garamant rose and left the tavern with a swift stride. Kairu followed him with his eyes, making sure he had no intention of coming back, then quickly laid money on the table next to his untouched meal and hurried outside, just in time to see horses rear wildly and bolt forward. The driver lashed them mercilessly, and Kairu caught a glimpse of the pain-widened eyes of one animal, the jingling shafts, the coach rushing past, and the trailing cloak of the servant standing at the back. A passerby cursed loudly, stumbling aside, as Garamant’s landau shot down the street at breakneck speed, vanishing into the distance.

  Kairu looked around. Rita ran up to him.

  "Well?"

  "The Golden Griffin," Kairu said. "That’s where the druids of the Lynx Clan are. I think he went there. And also… Siegfried Maclevirr is here too. Garamant sent him a note."

  Rita’s eyes widened with worry. The two of them dashed off through the winding streets, leaping over fences, dodging startled pedestrians, and darting beneath the wheels of carts and carriages. Kairu was breathing hard, ignoring shouts and obstacles, focusing only on keeping rhythm; Rita raced right beside him. From the city’s clock tower over the market square, a massive bell struck three times.

  They vaulted another fence, landed on a heap of crates in a tavern’s backyard, sprinted through a narrow alleyway, and burst straight into the noisy chaos of the marketplace, crammed with people. At the far end, Garamant’s landau swung out of a side street and immediately got stuck among the flow of heavily laden wagons. Kairu quickly assessed the situation: they had a solid advantage—and besides, Garamant’s driver could not possibly suspect anyone was following.

  "This way!" He yanked Rita by the hand, weaving between stalls stacked with dried fish, vegetables, fruit, bread, wine, and every other kind of foodstuff. At the far side of the square, opposite the town hall, was a hitching post where several servants lounged on the steps, lazily munching apples bought from a nearby stand. Horses stamped impatiently, whinnying for their absent masters.

  The wagons rolled sluggishly around the square, forcing Garamant’s team to slow to the common pace, yielding to old women and children crossing the street. By the time Kairu and Rita reached the outer stalls, the landau had covered barely half the distance to the main street. But soon enough it turned, hooves clattering on cobblestones, the coachman’s whip cracking again, and once more it tore forward, scattering pedestrians as it headed for the gate.

  Kairu sprang into action first.

  Drawing his sword mid-stride, he shoved aside an old man who dropped a sack of potatoes in fright, slashed through the reins of the nearest horse tied to the post, and vaulted into the saddle. The animal neighed, almost trampling a youth who tried to block the thief; the boy leapt aside just in time and kept a safe distance, yelling for help. Guards appeared at once, but when Kairu glanced back, he saw Rita already astride another horse, spurring after him.

  He nearly lost control as the spirited horse skidded, but he steadied it and plunged down the right street. Hooves hammered a relentless staccato on the paving stones.

  They caught up with the landau at the city gates, just as it passed the customs post and sped downhill toward the open fields. Nobody was being checked on exit, so Kairu and Rita, keeping a discreet distance, followed through the archway and into the wind-swept plains. The team ahead turned westward, toward the groves where they had walked earlier that day. Kairu slowed to ride level with Rita and quickly recounted the conversation he had overheard.

  "So he wanted to seize Petros using the druids’ hands," Rita said thoughtfully. "But he was too late? Someone else got there first?"

  "Looks that way… He said he was interested in the movements of all the expedition members. But the druids lost three of them. Konrad said they had to fly away because they were attacked… Meanwhile, Petros, Saelin, and Vergilius went off with Aok to investigate something."

  "So right now, nobody knows where Petros, Saelin, Vergilius, and Aok are. And how exactly do we plan on finding them?" Rita’s voice carried a note of irony.

  "They’ll head to Vaimos’s shrine," Kairu said with certainty. "Where else would they go?"

  He spurred his horse. The animals whinnied, released from all restraint, running as fast as they could manage. Still, compared to the speed of Hellsteeds, they plodded along, tiring much sooner. Kairu, long unused to ordinary mounts, felt clumsy and awkward, and knew he would never fully adapt again.

  His own Steed lay dead, frozen in the ice of Derelzfjord.

  The ride pressed on: labored breaths, tossing manes, hooves drumming rhythm on the dusty road. Far ahead, the landau swayed among the trees. They reined in, keeping their distance. Then the road curved, and Kairu suddenly drew the reins. He had spotted a large timbered house with a steep roof standing in a clearing between the woods. He and Rita left the road, slipped into the bushes, dismounted, tied the horses to the pines, and crept toward the forest’s edge, careful not to reveal themselves too soon.

  From their hiding place, they saw Garamant climb out of the carriage, walk up to the doors guarded by two bouncer-druids with massive clubs, and start talking to them. A few seconds later, they let him inside. The carriage stayed by the gate, the coachman climbed down, asked the guards something, and left, probably for water and oats for the horses.

  "Shall we try to get in?" Kairu whispered.

  "And what would we do there?"

  "The same as Garamant. Talk to the Clan of the Lynx."

  Rita shook her head, but her eyes were already glittering with excitement, which did not escape Kairu. He smiled, squeezed her hand for a moment, and then was the first to climb out of the bushes onto the clearing and head for the gates.

  The two druid-thugs raised and crossed their clubs, blocking the way.

  "Stop right there!" one of them growled. "What do you want here?"

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Came to play," Kairu answered brazenly, staring up at him.

  "Alvens? In Ardrai? You came to play at the Golden Griffin?" the bouncer asked suspiciously, giving them a hard look. He exchanged glances with the other. "Show me the money!"

  With a sigh, Kairu reached into his pack, pulled out a purse of gold, and opened it slightly in front of the guard. The druid rudely tried to snatch it, but Kairu yanked his hand back. The druid growled.

  "Five gold to get in," he said. "Minimum bet for azar is five, for primero—ten. Weapons to be checked at the entrance."

  Kairu silently handed over five gold coins, and he and Rita walked through the gates into the courtyard. In the corner stood a stable, chickens ran about, and human workers moved around with tools. At the doors to the building, two more bouncers frisked them thoroughly. Reluctantly, but without much regret, they handed over the small knives they always carried for self-defense. Inwardly, Kairu was relieved again that Alaskrit was at the inn—he would never have trusted his favorite sword to the thugs guarding this den. Their weapons were carried off into a small locked room behind the entrance, they were given a token, and right then, a young druidess appeared, smiling broadly.

  "What would you like to play?" she asked. "Do you know anyone here, or would you like to join a random group? Want something to drink? Would you like to rent a room for an hour, or for the night?"

  "Something to drink, for starters," Kairu said, slightly disoriented by her persistence. The girl shrugged and led them deeper inside the building.

  ***

  "Damn Vaimar," thought Lieutenant Siegfried Maclevirr of the Royal Guard Investigations Department, a young officer with great promise, for the hundredth time as he surveyed the room in the central office of the Fighters’ Guild of Ardrai.

  If he had known that keeping tabs on Petros and investigating the case of a student’s disappearance would drag him out here, to the very edge of the world, to the northernmost major city of Laugdeil—he would have thought ten times whether that coveted promotion was worth it. Perhaps he could have advanced much faster by cracking some case within the capital. Back then, though, the case had looked too easy to turn down. And now he felt stuck. Ever since Petros’s expedition left the Temple of Tornir, it was like he’d been groping blindly through thick fog. Worst of all, it felt as though the universe itself conspired to trip him up at every step.

  "This is Vaimar," sighed the local head of the Fighters’ Guild yet again. "This isn’t Aktida. Yes, the druids run their business here, and we let them. Nothing to be done: by royal decree, they are a free people, and Regerlim is their domain. You’ve got your own Enchanted Forest—do you try to tell the centaurs there that they must obey the laws of Aktida? They’d stick you on a spear, and that would be the end of it."

  "Yes, but they don’t get away with the kind of insolence your druids do," Maclevirr grumbled. "Extorting honest Kalds for doing trade near Regerlim, robbing banks, kidnapping and murdering on commission—we would never stand for that, and thank Aktos we don’t have that trouble with the centaurs. Listen to me one more time: I have information that the Clan of the Lynx kidnapped a man, a citizen of Aktida. I also have information that the Clan of the Wolf may be sheltering a dangerous criminal in the forest. If you won’t mount a raid and bring them to justice under Vaimaran law, then at least give me a squad—ten men will do—and I’ll handle it myself…"

  "And I’ll repeat: we will not interfere in druid affairs, especially if it concerns Aktida’s citizens—no one invited them into Regerlim. Especially when your ‘intelligence’ comes from the druids themselves," the officer stressed. "Listen, this is almost certainly just fallout from the clan wars. Clan of the Wolf, Clan of the Lynx—they’ve been at each other’s throats for generations…"

  "So you’ll just sit there with your hands folded?" Maclevirr’s voice rose in indignation. "Do you realize your own citizens could be next?"

  "We have our own agreements with the druids. Outside the forest, they behave properly."

  "Listen, at least give me five men as personal guards so I can enter that Golden Griffin," Maclevirr pleaded. "I’m an Alven. People here already look at me sideways, and even more so in a place run entirely by druids! I swear, I only want to ask them a few questions. I have a warrant from Mainor, and I’m acting here under the authority of the King of Vaimar—you’re obliged to help me!"

  The commander sighed again and smiled indulgently.

  "All right, I’ll assign you a squad to accompany you into the Golden Griffin," he said. "But only there. No raids into Regerlim. We don’t need extra trouble."

  Ten minutes later, five Kalds in light armor, armed with swords and crossbows, approached Maclevirr, who was waiting astride his horse in the Guild stables. The men saluted grimly, but it was clear none of them was eager for the job. Maclevirr spat and shook his head.

  "Follow me, lads," he said. "And stop glaring at me like wolves, for gods’ sake! You’re getting paid for this."

  ***

  The gambling house was half-shrouded in gloom. There were almost no windows, the chandeliers with candles were wrapped in red shades, and from somewhere far away drifted the sounds of harps, violins, and flutes, though no musicians could be seen. The hall was packed to the brim, filled with a muffled murmur, but not the noisy clamor of a tavern. Here, everyone was focused on the game. No one loitered idly; players sat at tables, while druid waiters scurried back and forth with beer and wine. Here and there—Kairu noticed at once—stood bouncers, massive arms folded grimly across their chests, gripping clubs and crooked swords.

  The girl led them to the bar and offered them a table, forcing Kairu to order another round just to buy time. When the beer was brought, and the girl slipped away, casting them one last suspicious glance, Kairu finally relaxed enough to take in the room. There was no sign of Gamarant.

  The hall was enormous, its ceiling held up in places by wooden columns that looked necessary just to keep it from collapsing. Inside stood no fewer than fifty tables, all strewn with cards and dice. Everything was drowning in the haze of pipe smoke, puffed anxiously by the players, and the fragrant smoke of incense that rose from bronze censers hanging on the columns. Along the walls, every few yards, stood curtained archways that seemed to lead into back rooms. Most of those, too, were guarded.

  "What’s the plan?" Rita asked quietly. "Are we just going to lose the last of our money?"

  "We’ve got decent odds," he whispered back. Luckily, Viggo had been an inveterate gambler, and over the course of their travels together, Kairu had learned probably every game popular in Vaimar. "Besides, I can see the future, remember? Finally, that trick is good for something…"

  Rita stifled a laugh.

  "You ever use that when you played against Viggo?"

  "Not once," Kairu admitted. "Though I was tempted. But Viggo would have known. These people don’t."

  He took a sip of beer—and at that moment, someone seized his hand.

  He turned and found himself staring into the face of a druidess cloaked in black, her mantle adorned with bird feathers. In the crimson lamplight, her face looked uncanny, covered in a fine tracery of black stripes and zigzags that nearly obscured her skin. She wore huge golden earrings, necklaces, a nose ring, and her long black hair was gathered in a knot beneath an ornate silver tiara.

  "Five gold, pretty boy, and I’ll tell you your fate," rasped the uninvited guest with a mysterious air.

  Kairu nearly burst out laughing. But there was something in her performance, something in her voice, that made him study her more closely than he would an ordinary swindler.

  "Who are you?" he asked instead of answering.

  "I am the Oracle of the Lynx Clan. I know all things. Future, past. We druids see farther than men. Trust me. Just five gold, and I will tell you if today you are destined to win… or to lose."

  "And what do you know about me?" Kairu asked, handing her five gold coins.

  The Oracle snatched them from his palm and tucked them away. Then she clasped his hand in hers. Her fingers were cold, dry, bony, her long nails scratching his skin, and an unpleasant chill crept down his spine. But it wasn’t just the nails. There was something in her, some kind of magic, different from his own and yet undeniably strong.

  The Oracle threw back her head, closed her eyes, and began to sway from side to side. From the smoke of tobacco and incense, Kairu felt a faint dizziness.

  "I see…" she proclaimed. "I see! Spirits of the forest, spirits of the North speak to me. I hear their voices, they show me visions… What awaits you today, child? The spirits say today is a great day. Luck will be with you in any game. Be bold, take your seat, make your wager, and do not let your fortune go to waste! The day will pass, and if you fail to use it, the blessing may vanish tomorrow. You must act quickly."

  "I understand," Kairu muttered, slipping her another five gold. "But I want to know more. Since you’re an oracle… you should know what happens in the forest."

  He leaned close to her face, her claws still scratching his palm.

  "A flying ship crashed west of Regerlim," Kairu whispered. "The druids took a man from there. Why? Who paid them? And where are they taking him?"

  The Oracle croaked and rocked harder in her strange trance. Her eyes rolled back, her grip on his hand tightening. Kairu hadn’t expected her to answer. But she did.

  "The spirits of the forest know that great trouble is coming," she said coldly. "A shadow has stretched over this land… a shadow covers Regerlim. The Hunt begins. A great Hunt for great prey. Many join the chase. But the prey will belong to only one."

  She opened her eyes and stared straight into him. For an instant, Kairu thought black smoke was swirling inside her bottomless pupils.

  "Play. And place your wager wisely. Luck is on your side, but beyond luck, you must use your wits. Only then will you gain what you came here to find."

  "Good," Kairu said. "Lead me."

  He rose, his high stool screeching on the floor. The Oracle drew him deeper into the hall, to one of the few empty tables, where an old druid stood with a mane of thick silver hair and a face that betrayed nothing. Kairu sat, Rita at his shoulder. On the table lay a cup with two dice inside.

  "Your stake?" the druid asked flatly.

  "Five," Kairu said calmly, placing coins on the table.

  "With me, or against?"

  "You name your number first."

  The croupier grunted.

  "Seven."

  Kairu leaned back in his chair, feigning deep thought. In truth, his mind slid forward along the thread of time. He couldn’t hear the future, couldn’t know what number his opponent would call.

  But the dice on the table he could see perfectly.

  The trick was not to give himself away by habitually closing his eyes.

  "Against," he said.

  The druid nodded, took the cup, and shook it for several seconds, hand clamped over the top. Kairu and Rita heard the dice rattle inside. Then, with a swift motion, the druid overturned the cup onto the table and lifted it. The pips showed a three. His expression remained as impassive as ever.

  "You win. Will you take your money, or play again?"

  "Again, of course," Kairu said. "The Oracle told me today is my lucky day. I won’t leave until I’ve won every coin in your house. Twenty it is."