Page 50 of Tusks & Saddles
Beatrix rolled her eyes. Leave it to Gimdor to try and hustle money out of the people who were going to pay him for a job. She had planned to play regardless, but now she would have to make sure the two clerics didn’t lose the tunics on their backs. She dropped a silver onto the table.
“I knew you’d be in, Bee.”
“Shut up, Gimdor, and let them talk. We playafterthey tell you their story. There’s a missing person, after all,” Beatrix huffed. “Welborn?”
“Ah, yes! High Cleric Gnaul Swoth went missing yesterday. At least, according to Amaldona here.”
Beatrix kept her eyes on Gimdor’s hands but her pointed ears listened to the two clerics explain their situation. A person going missing for a day wasn’t completely out of the norm. While the train was the more popular way to travel, there were other means. Horses, carriages, or just on foot. But by the sound of it, both Welborn and Amaldona found the disappearance suspect.
“Why didn’t you report the High Cleric missing last night, Amaldona?” Beatrix asked.
The young woman shrank in her seat. Suspicious, but Beatrix didn’t sense malicious intent from her. Though she was curious why out of all the drinks at the bar, this woman had insisted on milk of all things.
“Well, to be honest, I thought the High Cleric was testing me,” Amaldona admitted with a flush to her cheeks. “You see, at the seminary, a lot of the other acolytes used to be tested by our teachers. They would test the merit of our curiosity.”
That sounded…odd to Beatrix but she wouldn’t pretend to understand how religious types worked. Her family had very loose ties to the Dauntless Verity, the white dragon goddess who oversaw fairness, harmony, and justice. Her family held similar principals to the white dragon, but they rarely showed reverence.
“I would think it would have the opposite effect,” Welborn said, gloved hands wrapping around his own tankard. “Wouldn’t the High Cleric disappearing make you more curious?”
“Oh, it did!” Amaldona exclaimed. “But the seminary also taught us that not all curiosity is worth chasing. One must know when to chase and when to wait. I thought the High Cleric was gauging my recklessness.”
“That I can at least understand,” Beatrix said.
Gimdor had polished off his whiskey and was working his way through his ale. He wiped his mustache with the back of his hand and lifted an eye at Beatrix.
“Yeah, why’s that, Bee?”
“It’s called being prepared, Gimdor,” Beatrix said, rather sternly. “You of all people should know howdangerousit is to go into a job completely unprepared.”
“Your line of work is dangerous, Miss Eaves?” Welborn inquired.
Beatrix wanted to wipe that worried, puppy dog eyed expression from his charming face. Gimdor’s bark of laughter pulled her away from the cleric.
“Dangerous is putting it mildly, kid!” Gimdor tapped his palm onto the dirty table. “Bee here’s a regular hard-ass! If anything, she’s the one that’s dangerous!”
“Thank you,Gimdor,” Beatrix hissed between clenched teeth.
It took everything she had not to curse him in æternal. The language that all daemon knew before they learned their parents own tongue. While most people wouldn’t recognize it, most denizens found the language a bit overwhelming. Æternal sounded unnatural to most, harsh and biting like an ice storm. Beatrix only ever used it when she was incredibly upset and Gimdor was doing his damnedest to push her to that point.
“What kind of work do you do, Miss Eaves?” Amaldona questioned.
Beatrix leaned back into her chair. Beneath the table, she dragged her heel across the suitcase beneath.
“A little of this, a little of that,” Beatrix replied.
“That’s code for none of ya damn business if I ever heard it,” Gimdor laughed.
I should have shot him,Beatrix thought.
“We don’t mean to pry, Miss Eaves,” Welborn said, shooting her an apologetic look. “If you couldn’t tell, we’re naturally curious folk. It kind of comes with the territory with our god.”
“How about you continue with your missing person story, hmm?”
It should have worried Beatrix how quickly Welborn had picked up on her tells. Her expressions were impossible to perceive beneath the embroidered lace, yet somehow Welborn seemed to be attuned with her real thoughts. Concealing her face gave Beatrix the advantage when facing an enemy that could talk back. If there was a weakness in her armor, Beatrix needed to know what it was so she could rectify it.
Could his god have given him the power to read minds?
It was a possibility. Beatrix didn’t understand magic but she had seen how dangerous it was. Had seen how it could be used to influence a crowd, to trick people into believing lies. Magic was naturally a little deceitful—which Beatrix could respect as long as that deceit wasn’t directed ather.
