Page 63 of The Sorcerer's Thief
We had a long day’s travel, pushing hard to get to the northernmost outskirts of Irondale. Tomorrow, I’ll secure a stall at a local barn for Slinger until it’s safe to come back for her and continue on foot. I should make it to the docks by lunch.
And what then? I don’t know yet. I won’t get any of my neighbors involved. I’ll steer clear of them until I’m sure there’s no danger. Meaning…I search for Julian alone? One thief among a den of guildsmen?
How shall I even go about it?
Scour the docks for the seediest-looking characters, then tap them on the shoulder and say, “Excuse me, but have you seen a handsome but grumpy sorcerer wandering around in a disguisethat looks vaguely feminine with overly large shoulders?” Yes, perfect. That should work wonders.
I huff and grab my bag. I’m unpacking my bedroll when the coin lets out a piercing wail that freezes the blood in my veins.
I snatch it from my pocket. “What do you want? I nearly peed myself just now.”
The coin only gets louder, rocking in my hand like it’s a toddler having a fit over bedtime.
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I fuss at the thing.
To my surprise, Slinger comes running into my camp, nostrils flared, wide-eyed, looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head and the second head is on fire.
“What, you too? What is it?”
Slinger puts a knee to the ground and, in a move far more graceful than I’d ever given the old nag credit for, bows, inviting me to climb on.
I stand there, blinking stupidly at them both. Am I really about to listen to a semi-sentient pissed-off coin and a crotchety old pony over common sense?
Yes.
Yes, I am.
“All right, all right. Two seconds.” I stuff my bedroll back into my bag and throw it over my shoulder, then climb onto Slinger’s back. Before I properly settle, she’s off at a quick clip and headed straight for Irondale.
Reality sets it. I clench the coin in my hand. “It’s Julian, isn’t it? He’s in trouble.”
I swear the coin gives a sigh of relief. Yes, finally, you’ve caught on, dummy.
“You’ll help me find him, then?”
It warms in my hand.
“And you talk to horses?”
A faint whining echo of laughter haunts my ears.
Enough with the questions or I really will pee myself.
We ride into the night, and though I worry about Slinger, that this is too much for her, that she needs rest and food, that her poor eyesight wasn’t meant for a midnight gallop through sleeping city streets, she shows no sign of slowing.
She’s like an animal possessed, on a mission by which nothing can deter her.
I’m glad one of us is sure of ourselves because I’m certainly not. I fear Julian’s got himself into trouble or, worse, done something he’ll never be able to take back.
The coin pulses where it rests against my chest as if giving me strength and propelling me forward. It’s the middle of the night, and I haven’t slept a wink. I should be tired, but I’m not. Hungry, but I’m not.
Perhaps the coin is working similar magic for Slinger as well. I hope so.
I don’t pretend to understand its powers, but I’m coming to know its motives. The coin is most content when Julian and I are together. So at least I don’t have to worry about finding him. I have a strong suspicion the coin will lead me straight to him.
But what to do then?
I’m not much of a brawler. I prefer to hide, to creep, to sneak, and then to run. What if it comes to a fight?
