Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 30–The Enforcer

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Larah dug her fingers into the necklace, but it was no use. The miserable device was not coming off. Coronados lay on the bed, sound asleep, back to her. She stood. At least she could do that without being magically punished or needing permission. Her eyes drifted toward the saddlebags on the floor. Maybe there was something in them she could use to remove this contraption. Slowly, she stepped closer, careful not to press too hard on the wooden floor slats. Reaching inside the bags, she felt around quickly. Her hand closed on a small leather pouch. She carefully pulled it out, loosened the purse strings, and emptied the contents into her hand. Three small white stones fell out.

My illumination stones. How did he get these?

Any further thoughts disappeared as Coronados snorted and rolled over. Hastily, she slipped the stones into a hidden pocket inside her tunic. But now she needed to put something in the bag. Small pebbles lay on the floor, tracked in by the thief’s boots. She scooped the stones into the pouch and shoved them into the saddlebags.

As she settled onto the floor next to the bed, Coronados jerked awake and looked at her with hooded eyes.

“Who’s that?” he asked groggily.

“Just me,” she said.

“Oh,” he muttered and then sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he looked toward the window curtains and, seeing daylight streaming through them, said, “I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.” He rolled off the bed, walked over to his saddlebags, and stuck a hand in, pulling out the small pouch she had retrieved earlier.

Her heart skipped a beat as he started to pull on the purse strings. “Bah! Wrong bag.” Hastily, he shoved it back into the saddlebags and groped around the other side. This time, he produced a larger bag that made a jingling sound. Standing, he stretched, coughed, and belched.

Larah cringed; the man was as unclean as he was unsavory.

“We’re going downstairs,” Coronados said, putting out a hand. Larah took it, and he pulled her to a stand. They navigated the stairs and into the inn’s common area in a few minutes. A few people occupied the tables, eating bowls of gruel and hard bread.

With a loud thump, Coronados plopped into a chair and pointed to the chair next to him. “Sit, pretty thing.” He looked around for a host, found him, and shouted, “Over here.”

Casting him an annoyed look, the host slipped over. “What do you want?”

“Hot cider, eggs, and ham. Oh, and some bread, too.”

“What about her?” the man asked.

He stared at Larah momentarily, “Ah, give her the same. I’m feeling generous.”

“You sure seem to be happy,” the host said.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got it made.”

“You’re probably the only one, then,” the host grumbled before disappearing into the kitchen.

Coronados watched him go with a curious expression. “I wonder what he meant by that?”

Larah whispered, “Their King was murdered, remember? I’m sure they’re not happy about that.”

He waved the idea away. “He was going to die someday. Who cares?”

A hooded, red-robed figure suddenly appeared in the doorway, his cowl obscuring his face. In his pale hands was a small whip, which he flicked as he sauntered into the room.

Larah squirmed in her seat. Something about the man’s presence made her skin crawl.

The host returned with two trays of food and started to place them on the table. But he froze when he saw the red-robed figure. Under his breath, he spoke, “That’s an Enforcer, one of those foreigners our new ‘king’ brought into the country. Watch yourself around them.”

Coronados gave the figure a baleful eye.

The host stood as the Enforcer approached, “What do you want?” he asked, his voice thin and pinched.

The Enforcer looked at the host and clucked his tongue. “I’d watch that tone if I were you.” The host slipped out of the dining area in a hurry.

The hooked man ignored the approaching figure and dug into his food.

Larah sat rigidly still, listening as the Enforcer’s footfalls approached. Though she tried to ignore it, all her senses tingled. The man stood just to her left.

Coronados stopped chewing and tapped her plate. “Something wrong with the food?”

She flicked her eyes toward the red-robed figure.

“You looking for something?” the thief asked, his mouth full.

The cowled face turned.

 The hooked man peered intently as if trying to make out the man’s features.

“Yes,” the Enforcer said, pointing at Larah’s neck with his coiled whip. “Interesting bauble.”

Coronados swallowed before replying, “Is that a problem for you?”

“All magical items must be registered with the ministry,” he said.

“What ministry?” asked Coronados, his head cocked.

“The Ministry of Heretical Magic,” he replied. “The Proclamation issued this morning addresses the identification, collection, and sanitization of magic items–or those possessing those capabilities.”

“Sanitization?” Coronados said. “I’ve never heard of such nonsense. What idiot came up with that idea?”

The man turned with a fury that caused Larah to wince. “You’d do well to hold your tongue. I could very well bring you in for questioning.”

Just as suddenly, Coronados shot out of his seat and seized his whip hand before the robed menace could back away. Brandishing a hook in the man’s face, the thief snarled, “And I could just as easily kill you where you stand or in your sleep, whenever and wherever you think you might be safe. It makes no difference to me. I suggest you move along.”

Though the man leaned away, he didn’t appear intimidated. “You’ll regret this, barbarian.”

“I regret many things,” Coronados said and then let him go. “But so will you if you don’t leave my companion and me be.” He sat.

Straightening his robes, the man curled his lip. “I will return.” Turning quickly, he stormed out of the tavern.

“Do you think that was wise?” Larah said, apprehension competing with the relief that the Enforcer had left.

“Probably not,” Coronados answered truthfully. “We had better move on.” He shoveled his food, left money on the table, and returned to their room.

Coronados had Larah watch the street from their window as he gathered their possessions. Just as he finished, Larah spied a half-dozen robed figures heading for the inn. “The Enforcer is coming, this time with friends.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shoved a saddle bag into her arms. “Take this and follow me down the back stairs. We need to go somewhere safe.” They slipped into the hallway and moved along it to a small door. Beyond it lay steps leading down to the stables. Down they went, found their horses, and walked them to the street.

There was no sign of the red-robed figures, so they moved quickly in the opposite direction of the tavern. A couple of turns put them on a side street, and they passed down it toward a storefront, but as they approached, Coronados stopped short. “What’s this?” On the window of the store was a red pentagram.

An old woman noticed them looking and stepped closer. “It’s those red devils. They are targeting any place they think has magic.”

Coronados looked stunned. “But this place doesn’t have any magic,” he said with conviction. A look passed over his face, something Laura had not seen before—fear.

“I know another place we can go.” He pushed on, turning down a couple more streets and pulling up to another small shop. Once again, the window showed evidence of a red pentagram, and the door hung loosely open. He glanced inside. Shelves had been knocked off the walls, jars were broken, and contents spilled all over the floor. When he came out, he looked at Larah with none of his earlier confidence in evidence.

“What is it?” Larah asked.

“The Council is targeting Brotherhood safe houses, which means they are targeting the Brotherhood itself.”

* * *

Vig pulled on the reins of his horse and looked from the crest of the hill at the still distant dwarf lands. He regretted leaving Wolfbern without Larah, but he had no choice. At least he now had a horse, thanks to the unfortunate traveler needing to relieve himself. It was a long walk to the nearest settlement. Oh well, better him than me.