Paragon - Book I

Removing the Linchpin

She can hear them arguing in low, rushed whispers as she worms her way out of sleep's grip. Sunlight is weaving spider-like through the cracks in the shutters, and even in this land of rock and concrete she can taste dew in the air.

"You need to tell her everything," Meg hisses, her voice low and cracking.

"That's a lot," Iaves shoots back. "Don't get me wrong, I like the girl, but how much do we know about her? Can she be trusted?"

"What? Do you think she's—"

"She's not," Ben interjects, sounding tired. "The fight with the Jarles soldiers proved that."

"I didn't mean that," Iaves answers, his tone clipped. "I just meant that we haven't known her for long. Who knows how she'll react. Can we trust her to keep things quiet?"

"I think so."

"You want to send her into a Jarles stronghold without a clue why she's got to go in there," Meg pushes back. "I thought this is what we're fighting against. I thought—"

"I'm not saying she should go—"

"Meg's right," Ben interjects, and Allayria can hear him shift off the cot, his feet padding softly on the floor. "That's not who we are, Iaves. She deserves to know everything."

"I never said she didn't," Iaves replies, his voice gruff, and she hears him rise too. "When are you going to tell her?"

"Today, I suppose."

"Fine," he retorts, though his tone contradicts the word. "Let's go, the brothers are waiting."

The door swings shut and Meg rustles around in one of the bags, probably finding something for breakfast.

So I was right; they haven't told me everything.

Allayria turns their words over again.

"She's not. The fight with the soldiers proved that."

Not what? A Jarles spy, perhaps? She toys with the idea, but can't fathom why the Jarles would send a spy for three poor, wandering drifters.

Maybe there's more to this artifact—maybe it's a weapon we can use against them?

And what does this make her friends? Spies of Halften? Or some shadowy benefactor? At the very least, they're not what she had assumed.

But they are against the Jarles—can they be that bad?

She rolls onto her back.

From somewhere to her right, Meg says: "Finally awake?"

"This cot gets more comfortable by the day," she answers. "I've almost convinced myself the rocks in it are therapeutic."

Iaves and Ben return an hour later, holding large packets. Ben smiles when he sees Allayria pressing a thumb to her wrist.

"Feel better?" he asks.

She nods, watching as they set the bundles on Iaves' bed.

"I was saying to Iaves," he continues, looking back at both the girls, "why don't we get out of the city for a day? There's a high point on the mountain that has a good look over the city. It would be nice to get some clean air and," he nods toward Allayria, "we haven't practiced in a while. We're all going to get rusty."

"Works for me," Meg replies, stretching her legs over the bed, dirty toes pointed toward the center of the room. "Got food to take with us?"

"Yep," Iaves replies, holding up a knapsack. "Farmer's market was open."