Ruein: Fires of Haraden: Action/Adventure Necromancy Series (Books of Ruein Book 2) by G.O. Turner (best ereader for graphic novels txt) 📗

“Well, I tell you what.” Leafar dropped to the edge of the table then hopped to the ground. “We get you sorted with the citadel’s council, I’ll ask.”

Ruein check the posts again. “What of the forest restrictions?”

Leafar raised a finger. “That, necromancer, I suspect is what you’ve been commissioned to figure out.” He beckoned for them to join in his stroll toward the diminishing Nursker lines.

With most of the caravaneers filtered into the keep’s quarters, the seated duergar Captain signaled them to approach. A dozen dark-orcs moved to tighten their circle, their want of a challenge undiminished.

The Captain leaned over the table, his mustache forming a grin. “Leafar… Last time you brought us good sport. Tell me you’ll not vith’ez with me by these kivvil.” His undercommon drawlled on, yet was clearly native.

“Oh, let me think.” Leafar touched his chin.

Liv leaned into Ruein. “What’re they—”

“Captain is deciding who is screwing with who,” Ruein whispered.

“Vith with the women or share your sack,” Leafar responded in underspeak. “The kivvil is good with me. Not only do they seem legit.”

Fumbling about his jacket, Leafar’s pats found what he sought. The gnome withdrew the rolled parchment Ruein had surrendered up. He rounded to the encroaching guards, holding it aloft. In clear surface common, he announced, “They…have an invite.”

The captain’s grin fell as he sat upright. Undeterred, he grumbled in his own tongue, “Shu. Too bad.” He swept hands at his men. “Stand down. We have guests.”

Reaching over his shoulder, the Captain snapped fingers.

A beefy orc, Ruein took to be some Lieutenant, retrieved a small chest from a cabinet. He approached Leafar, tipped it forward, and raised the lid. Within, the emerald lining contrasted cooly with the ornate rows of gold bands. They clinked as Leafar withdrew three medium and two small bracelets. He clicked one of the stylish hoops over his own wrist, then turning about, Leafar distributed the remaining bands.

Each etched line was not sylvan, but classic drow-spun threads. Underscoring the Haraden H, Ruein read a solitary word: Alissus. Undercommon for “invited.”

Hinged on one side, clasped on the other, Ruein looped it around her wrist and clipped it shut. Would be simple enough to remove.

Leafar turned back to the captain. “Shall I, or would you?”

Snorting, the Captain stepped onto his chair. “Welcome honored visitants.” There was a repulsed air to his surface common. “Trade is the blood that flows through us all. It connects us. Its bindings make each of us stronger. That said, my Elite’s duty does forwarn, Haraden is equally prepared to receive either goods or blows. We will leave it to you which you’d decide to barter in.”

The Captain waved at the keep’s barriers. “Once outside these walls, our citizenry will know invitee from intruder by these ringlets. Conduct your trade. Until your return here, wear them at all times. These bands do not boon free rein. Roaming of our city is only allowed under citizen escort. Ancestry of some Haraden hail from skulkers. Do not be found as one.

“Have you anything to declare before I open our gates?”

Ruein spied Liv straighten—lips parted. The necromancer turned on the Lightbringer. Her cold stare reinforced her whispered hush, “We do what we’re here for. We go home. Don’t complicate—”

“Ceer declares—” The half-orc cleared his throat. Twigs smacked his own face with his palm. “—Ceerself as master of the fist. Come be bested. Learn from best. Know that—”

“No,” Leafar blurted.

The dark-orcs’ faces brightened. Incredulous looks quickly traded with each other as they began to unfasten scabbards.

Leafar clutched onto the Captain’s table, plaintively staring over the top. “No—Nothing to declare. We’re good. Er…”

A boot fell upon the wooden table, echoing across the courtyard. The Captain stepped up. “Sounds like you’re not sure,” he said.

“No,” said Ruein. “We’re quite sure. If Ceer wishes to share insights, perhaps upon our return, he can offer a similar opportunity.” To the half-orc, she said, “Agreed?”

Unshaken, the brawny monk tipped his head back and surveyed his dark-skinned challengers. He mulled his tusky smile over as he considered. Ceer gave a nod.

“Well now. Won’t that give us something to look forward to?” The Captain smiled back. Resting gray hands on his hips, the duergar barked undercommon, “Ptau’al! Guard our invitees to the citadel. I will pray they are not graced with learning why you are so named. At least…” He returned Ceer a sneer. “…not until I can see that for myself.”

The Elite parted, opening a path back to the original caravan court. Liv marched forth and clutched at Ceer’s shoulder. Ruein shuttled close behind with Twigs and Leafar taking up the end.

“Well?” Liv said over her shoulder.

Ruein glanced about. “It was just their captain giving orders. They’re our escorts to the city.” She drew closer to Liv.

Liv kept her voice low. “Really? Not escorting us to a brig?”

Shoving through, Leafar stamped at the earth before them. “If you lot cannot keep this civil, they may very well escort us into a back alley…not unlike how I found you.” Raising his hands at no one in particular, he groused, “Whole keep of drow-orcs and what do they do? Did they float their challenges by me? No. So then I ask, should I have taken them on? Don’t matter at this point. They’re all here.”

“Look.” Leafar rounded on them. “We’re heading out. Our next stop is going to be the Haraden council chambers. Accept my advice—else, tell me to sit and stuff it. Either way, I’ll have done my part. What happens after…is on you.”

At Ceer’s feet, Twigs leaned out. “Apologies, Leafar. Ceer here tends to…share his training around others of…his…kind.”

The half-orc piped up, “Ceer offers as much as accepts.”

“Gods.” Liv flat-out glared at him. “That’s just brazenly foolish. What good are you going to be to us if you’re an already pummeled mess of—”

“Lightbringer imparting wisdom. Ceer impart too.”

“He has a point,” Twigs chirped. “You did go off on old Stol back there.”

Ruein raised a hand to cover her face. She reinforced her illusions while the others descended