Their bungalow in the Adventurer’s Guild was warm, the fire burning in the grate, sending sparks up the chimney. The boy sat in front of it, warming himself as he scoffed down a heaped plate of food. He showed no signs of slowing when another plate was placed before him, though he began showing signs of overheating, going a bit green but still stuffing his mouth. Martin stepped forward, pulling the plate away.

“Eat more later, you’ll just end up throwing it all up.”

The boy looked at him, reluctantly giving the plate up, turning to face the other three, his initial fear gone but wondering what they wanted of him. They had brought him hereafter waylaying him in the alley. After carrying him, Hurnith had looked at him with pity, demanding they feed him before anything else. Fed and warm, Cal wondered how they expected him to help them. He had recognised the Adventurer’s Guild, everyone in the city would, but the stories of the powers of the Awakened meant that the gangs stayed away from them. The supernatural speed and observation powers of the Awakened just far too much for the street gangs to handle.

Gwynneth watched as the boy’s gaze flickered between the two humans and Hurnith, carefully avoiding her. She wondered why that was, what caused him to avoid her. She moved away from him but saw that once she was completely out of his sight, he got even more nervous. She frowned he feared her, but why? Wanting him to be cooperative she moved again, standing behind Martin and well within the boy’s line of vision. As she came back into view, she saw him relaxing his fear had grown when she was not in view.

Martin took a seat next to the boy, the warmth of the fire heating his side. He knew the heat was there but felt nothing, his ring working to make sure he stayed comfortable. He looked the boy over again. At first, he had thought that the boy was deliberately dressing down to play the part of an orphan begging in the marketplace. Now? He had seen the way the boy had attacked the food and the thin frame beneath the clothing. It seemed that part of what Djang said was true, whoever was running the gang was not giving the children enough food. The boy was looking at him warily, undoubtedly plotting his escape when they turned away, but for the moment enjoying the warmth and the food.

Martin coughed softly, getting the child to look at him. He smiled, before talking softly. “I hope you now believe what we told you before. We are not here to hurt you; we are here to help you. I am Martin, what is your name?”

“Cal,” the voice was soft, almost a whisper, but his eyes held fear as he looked at Gwynneth. “He leaned forward towards Martin, whispering, “You may not want to hurt me, but Djang has told us the truth about the Fae! They act like they are not part of the Dark, but that is so they can infiltrate us and guide the dark to us!”

Martin was taken aback; he had not known such propaganda was spread. He patted Cal on his back as he got up, indicating for Gwynneth to follow him into his bedroom.

As she arrived, he spoke up, “Gwynneth, how many people think the Fae are in cahoots with the dark to take over the realms?”

“What?” Gwynneth’s surprise was genuine, she had never heard such accusations being voiced before. The Fae were the ones that had taken the brunt of the attacks of the Dark, it was why so many had fled from the inner realms of the Fae to other realms, some seeing the fight for the inner realms as a lost cause, others supporting it but wanting peace. “Where did you hear that? The boy? It is obvious that he fears me for some reason, but it is the first time I have heard such accusations being voiced.”

“It seems that whatever game the false Djang is playing, it includes brainwashing the children to fear the Fae. Perhaps it is best if you are not present when we question the boy.”

She scowled, anger flooding her, then brought herself under control. “No, that would be even worse. I could see how fearful he was when he could not see me. It would be better if I was there, but in such a manner that he saw me as harmless. I will send Hurnith a message on the wind, so he knows what we are doing.” She thought carefully on the message, it was limited to only a dozen words, more and it would be garbled. IN time, with greater control, she could send more, but for now, she had to work within her limitations.

Hurnith was sitting in the room, polishing his sword, making sure the edge was not nicked, that it remained smooth and would not catch on anything, would cut and not tear. A breeze wafted past his ears, making them twitch. Another breeze came this time whispering words in his ear in the voice of Gwynneth, ‘The boy thinks me a spy for the Dark, follow our lead.’

Cal looked up as Martin and Gwynneth re-entered the room, cringing a bit as he saw Gwynneth. At that moment Martin turned around, grabbing Gwynneth by her arms, pushing her into a chair. He turned to Hurnith, speaking in a harsh voice.

“Our friend tells me she may be a spy for the dark. She shall not hear what he has to say to repeat it to anyone else! Take her to the other room, make sure she can hear nothing of what he has to say!”

Hurnith came forward, his teeth bared in a growl as he grabbed hold of Gwynneth. His grip was firm, but he was careful not to hurt or damage her. To the boy, it looked like an angry wolfman had grabbed her, hard, and the acting of Gwynneth, wincing as if in pain, convinced him. He watched as she was taken out, smiling when he was alone in the room with just Martin and Kilia.

Martin sat down opposite him, his back to the fire.

“Now, we need information from you.”

Cal nodded, feeling comfortable. His stomach full for the first time in months, the room warm, and two humans who took his warning seriously.

Martin nodded to Kilia, then spoke again to Cal, “Tell us, how do we get into Djang’s hideout without him knowing?”

The boy went white, his fear of Djang obvious, “You want to get not Djang’s headquarters? Why? He will kill you!” Looming in his thoughts was the demonic figure of Djang, a powerful man that dispensed punishment and harmed those who opposed him. Cal feared his wrath, and if Djang found out that Cal had betrayed him, Cal would suffer! He cringed, leaning away from Martin, his eyes darting over the room, looking for an exit.

Martin looked at the boy, his face serious, “He will not kill us. We are Awakened. See, I even have a magic item!” He thrust his hand into the fire, letting the flames play over it. He held it there, the ends of his sleeves turning up as they burnt. He pulled it out, unharmed, twisting it back and forth before him. “Do you think Djang to be more powerful than an Awakened warrior like Hurnith, or to harm me when this fire cannot?”

Wonderingly, Cal took Martin’s large hand in his, looking at it, examining it, seeing nothing but a healthy hand, no burns marring it at all. His fingers played with the burned cotton of his sleeve, with him pulling his hand back quickly as a still smouldering patch burned him. He thought of the Gwathur, how it towered over even this large man and felt hope. These were Awakened, they could defeat Djang!

“You won’t be able to get at him when he is in our home. There is only one entrance from the sewers and that is always watched. Above ground, there are two entrances, but they are watched carefully, even approaching them will give you away.” He smiled craftily, “But there is somewhere else you will find him, somewhere the gangs are not meant to know about.”

Martin smiled at the boy, ruffling his hair. “Tell me about it.”

***

Martin felt dirty. Not physically, there he was probably the cleanest he had ever been in his life. Gwynneth and Kilia had laughed at him when he dressed in fancy clothes, pointing out that a simple bath was not going to be enough. They had insisted he visit one of the city’s premier bathhouses to get scrubbed and perfumed. Martin felt disgusted by the whole charade, to be scrubbed and dressed in his finest, so he could enter the “Golden Apple”, arguably the finest brothel in the city. He knew of such places. There had been none in the village, but they existed in Comfor. He had never visited one, it just felt wrong, going against the values ingrained in him from his youth.

He looked around the room, comfortable stuffed chairs were set around tables in alcoves, each lit with their lamp, but illuminating only the table and leaving the guests in the shadows, anonymous. In the centre, a large stage held two girls. They had started dancing, but it had degenerated into something else. Patrons yelled from the shadows; crude remarks being thrown along with coins. Martin tried to look away, but it kept drawing his eyes, much to his shame. He berated himself, doing his best to look elsewhere, to find where Djang was.

According to Cal, Djang was a frequent patron here. Frequent enough that he was given his booth, third on the right, under the stairwell, limiting what could be seen in it even further. He was not there yet, and Martin sipped at a drink, watching it, and trying not to watch the stage. He felt someone coming close and turned to see a scantily clad and very nubile girl approaching his table. She looked no older than he, and her wide hips and golden hair reminded him of Jenny. He immediately felt guilty thinking of Jenny in such a context, guilt that must have shown on his face.

The girl smiled as she approached Martin, her thoughts laughing at him. From his looks and his behaviour, she pegged him as some petty noble, stepping out for the first time. He wanted to watch the stage but was too embarrassed to. As much as he seemed to want to control not looking there, at the two women making love to each other, his gaze kept going back. Just like now, that as she approached, she could see him gulp guiltily and turn slightly red. This would be fun, and profitable.

Martin watched as the woman came forward, taking a seat on the arm of his chair, leaning forward towards him, her thin gown falling forward, along with her ample assets.

“Milord, you look lonely. Madame DeLucia thought to send me over to make sure your, every need is taken care off. She lightly ran her finger down Martin’s face, smiling as it turned a deep red. “I am Delilah, and here to see to your every need, Milord.” She leaned forward, softly repeating in his ear. “Your every need.”

Martin gulped, not knowing what to do. He had never had any woman be so forward with him in such a public place. He and Jenny had exchanged kisses, and a bit more, but always in private. She had not given away her virtue, nor would he have wanted her to, such as reserved for after marriage, but in this place, no such rules applied. He gave the woman a weak smile, leaning back and away from her, pretending to be engrossed in what was happening on the stage even as his cheeks burned ever hotter. For her part, the woman just draped one of her legs over him, her bare leg. The gown she was wearing falling open as she did so to reveal just a thin pair of underwear. He tried to make himself comfortable and found his hand lying on her thigh. His attention was grabbed by those big blue eyes, drawing him in. His attention was focussed on her, and only after a time was he able to draw himself away to notice that his prey had finally arrived. The false Djang sat in his booth, alone.