Mersem rubbed his freezing hands as he sat inside a tavern that was far from toasty. The fireplace had been dormant since he and his company entered and had stayed that way the entire time they were here. They were in the last town separating Hosten and the rural town of Krigisa and despite Leara's apprehension of stopping for the day, they had to if they didn't want to have the sun setting on them while they hike past Pike Mountains.

It's an unfortunate time, at the least, but Fryth had found them the lowest peak out of a series of higher ones and with their chosen route, it would take them another four days and they'd be finding themselves at the first settlement in Krigisa. After that, it's going to be a long, slogging way past the thick forests before they reach the neutral lands.

They didn't have time to waste so Leara wanted to confirm that the neutral territory was where Silke was truly heading. That's why Mersem was out in this dingy tavern smelling of dried vomit and stale beer. "Use that eavesdropping skill of yours for something useful," Leara had told him before they parted. The rest of the bounty hunters went with the lady knight to get more supplies, leaving Mersem on his own.

He blew a breath, watching it crystallize in a foggy cloud in front of him. The barkeep couldn't even provide warmth, much less quality ale. For the past hour, the chatters around him were bland. Just talks of which type of wood was ideal for the oven (premi, obviously), what the latest news about the visiting troupe from Zarasel was (they didn't know any better), and who in the world was the best hunter in all of Krigisa (he didn't care because his father was sure to beat them all). There was no mention of Silke, the hundred thousand bounty, or where she was spotted next.

Mersem glanced past the open windows, noting the position of the sun. Leara and the others would be back soon and if he didn't get anything for them, they might consider disposing of him or leaving him miles away from home. He couldn't have that happen to him since his father would surely kill him and rub it in his face that he didn't have what it took to be a bounty hunter. So, it's time for the second tactic in gathering information—verbal communication.

He stood up from his seat and strode towards the counter where the barkeep was stationed, mixing drinks for the patrons whose foreheads already touched against the hardwood. "Hi," he dropped into the first seat he could find and perched his feet against its footrests as if he perfectly belonged there. "I was hoping you could tell me something."

The barkeep raised a bushy eyebrow. For a man, he was lanky and tall but his eyes carried enough daggers to stab Mersem with it a hundred times. "Hmm?" he said, pouring some concoction in separate glasses. Unlike the wooden cups Mersem commonly saw in taverns back home, why would this one use fragile glass? Wouldn't they crack against the cold?

"Have you heard something about the hundred-thousand-buram notice back in Zarasel?" Mersem tapped a finger against the counter. A hollow sound reflected back to him. So the counter was hollow, huh? "Do you know anyone who could have caught sight of a girl with pale blond hair, an impish face, and ridiculously large ears?"

"No, but I know someone who might," the barkeep jerked his chin in a vague direction towards the windows. "There's a local shop around these parts which deals with things other than coins and notes. She might know something."

Mersem knitted his eyebrows. "Who?"

"Aramale," the barkeep spat the name like it was somehow supposed to be detestable. "If you are after reliable and recent information, you go to her."

"Great. Thanks for the tip," Mersem brought his hands together and rubbed it. He was about to edge off the stool to report to Leara when the barkeep spoke again.

"Wait," he said. "You don't know what you're getting into."

Mersem wrestled his attention back to the man behind the counter. "What do you mean?"

"She's dangerous," the barkeep said. For the first time, Mersem spied real fear shining in the man's dark eyes.

"Care to elaborate on that, buddy?"

The barkeep shook his head. "I know nothing more than that. There's so many rumors surrounding Aramale and her shop so it's best to consult your companions first before attempting it."

Mersem resisted rolling his eyes at the barkeep. That wasn't useful information and only served to tickle his interest. When he got back to the inn and found Leara and the other hunters sharpening their weapons in the inn's stable, he told them the exact same thing the barkeep did and they blinked at him.

"That's all you can glean from a whole day of eavesdropping?" Malon ran a whetstone down the length of his sword, earning a sharp shiiiik which to Mersem sounded a lot like his head separating from his shoulders. "A den of information that nobody ever got out from?" He turned to the lady knight. "What do you think?"

Leara had stopped polishing her sword—a thin rapier she was known for even through her early days in the military—and tapped a finger against her chin. "It's not worth it," she said. "We'll continue asking around until noon tomorrow then we'll head to the Pike Mountains."

Mersem stuck his bottom lip out. "It's worth a try, though," he blurted.

The hunters' heads swiveled to him. "Kid," Fryth massaged his temples and sighed. Being the oldest among them at forty, it's natural even Leara followed his lead when she was unsure. "We can't risk losing members to this party. If you want to sacrifice yourself, I won't stop you. But you have to do it alone and there's no way we'll be waiting for you."

"Come now, Fryth," Leara spoke up, backhanding the weapon master's arm lightly. "How about this: I'll go with Mersem and you ask around in the town with Malon?"

Mersem blinked. Leara's doing what? She's going with him? What did he do to have the gods pleased with him like this? Up until now, even with Leara an arm's length away, the scent of her hair wafting to his nose, and the sound of her voice bouncing in the walls of Mersem's ears, he still couldn't believe he was able to exchange words with the woman he had adored for so long in secret. Now, she was offering to go with him on a suicide side-quest to look for his sister who became a fugitive after stealing something from the palace armory.

Should Mersem attempt to tell his story to a stranger, he'd start to think of himself as delusional. Out of the possible people this could have happened to, why him?

Leara blew a breath when none of her hunter friends offered a better solution. She folded her hands together. "Well, that's settled," she said. "We'll split up tomorrow. We'd only wait for each other for an hour in this inn and after that, we'd go ahead and you guys could catch up at the base of the hiking trail. We'd leave the horses somewhere around here and come back on our way back after apprehending the thief."

A new strain of dread weighed on Mersem's gut as soon as he heard that. He shouldn't forget why he was here in the first place and that's because he had Silke to look for. No matter how much he adored Leara, if it came to the point where he had to defend his sister against the lady knight, could he do that?

"Rest up," Leara sheathed her rapier and stood up. She dusted the bits of hay clinging into her tight-fitting trousers. "See you tomorrow."

The next morning, Mersem craned his neck up a tall cabin in the middle of nowhere. If they followed the directions of a random local they talked to an hour ago, this should be Aramale's cabin.

"You got your wish," Leara huffed, her breath a thick cloud by her nose. She tucked her hands inside her fur overcoat. "Are you sure about this? This could be a trap."

Mersem shrugged. "We came all the way out here, didn't we?" he stepped forward and gripped the door's freezing knob. "Might as well."

"Wait," Leara's hand wrapped around his arm. Two months ago, just the mere notion of Leara Mardis doing that was sure to send him into cloud nine. Now, though, it was enough to send his blood to his cheeks. "I've asked around about this shop. She is known to have killed people inside it. We have to be careful."

Mersem hooked a finger against the scarf beginning to press against his neck. It's freezing out here. Why was he feeling hot?

He eased Leara's hold on his arm. "Yeah," he said. "We must."

Before the lady knight could open her mouth to speak more cautionary comments, Mersem turned the knob with a nasty crunch and swung the door inside. He paused at the landing steps of the cabin, his eyes and his head battling to reconcile the rumors he heard and the scene he was beholding.

Shelves filled to the brim with clay pots, glass jars, and random knick knacks fell in neat arrays in the majority of the cabin's space. Bookshelves bursting with bound books and other sheafs of papers decorated most of the walls. Frames depicting paintings of past monarchs, nobles, and mundane sceneries whose brushstrokes and overall art style was somewhat familiar to Mersem hung from nails driven into space in the wall above the bookshelves.

When Mersem examined the curious things in the shelves, he spied wooden carvings of cossums, fendugin, and even moose-like horridas. There were also strange contraptions like leather horse bridles, massagers, and even a fruit crusher he once saw from one of the merchant caravans passing through Falkmena.

There was a sterile ambience to the whole shop as if it's encouraging Mersem to drop his guard and start enjoying the place. The dark, wooden walls didn't appear to be dark and the creaky floorboards didn't sound like they're that old. A faint whiff of incense and qiorfe drink was the only scent Mersem could register. Dust and cobwebs were nowhere to be found.

At least someone cared enough to keep this place tidy.

"Welcome, travelers," a wiry voice drawled from behind a tavern-like counter filled with more bookshelves. "How can Aramale help you on this wonderful day?"

Mersem arched an eyebrow and glanced at Leara. She shrugged at him. What kind of person would address themselves in third person?

"Hi, we're hoping to ask you something," Mersem stepped towards the counter, eyeing a wrinkly and thin woman whose elbows were propped atop it. All in all, Aramale was a strange person—if Mersem could call her that. Her wrinkled skin bunched up in the randomest of places and it's almost purplish. Long eyelashes batted up and down when the woman's poison-green eyes never strayed away from Mersem's face. Rows of crooked yellow teeth showed when her thickly-painted red lips parted for a smile. "Yes?"

Mersem pursed his lips. "Uh, we're looking for the girl with pale blond hair, an impish face, and—"

"The hundred thousand burams girl?" Aramale interjected.

"Yeah, her," he said. "Do you know where she is or where she's going?"

Aramale snickered in a conspiratorial way. She rapped her long nails against the counter's splintering surface and Mersem couldn't help but notice each one of them was painted a different neon color. "Oh, I know where she is and where she's going," she said. "It's been harvesting time in the information rings."

Leara pushed past Mersem. "Please tell us."

"Three choices," Aramale said, holding up three fingers. "One: pick an item. Two: pay in gold until it's enough. Three: tell me a secret. Decide wisely. If I'm not satisfied..." he eyes glinted when she leveled them at Mersem. "I'll kill you."

"Done," Leara dropped a huge bag of burams on the counter, the motion making the coins inside jingle and clank against each other. Mersem's eyes almost bulged. Where did she get that amount in such a short time and how could she just give it out without hesitation? Whoa. Leara Madris was of a different kind.

Aramale snatched the bag and peered inside. Then, she smiled. "Not enough."

"Watch out!" Mersem lunged forward and tackled Leara to the ground. A column of fire surged past the spot where their heads had just been.

Leara's eyes were wide. "Wh-wha—"

"No time!" Mersem pulled her up and scrambled towards one of the shelves for cover. Aramale rose to her full height—which was just up to Mersem's waist—but combined with the height of the counter and the unreal fire dancing within her fingertips, she wasn't someone to be taken lightly. Mersem eyed the door. They needed to get out of here before they became literal toast.

Mersem turned to Leara who was beginning to draw her sword. "I'll distract her," he said. "You go for the door. I'll follow after."

"No," she drew her sword nonetheless. "We'll deal with her and get away from here together. I'm not leaving you, Mersem."

That statement alone could have knocked him out of his senses but Aramale's shriek shattered whatever fantasy he had been bringing up. Daydreaming up a life with the lady knight would come later. For now, they had to run.

Mersem knocked over one of the shelves as Aramale's thin frame became visible from where they were holing up. As he and Leara tore through the aisle on the way to the door, they heard Aramale shriek, "I spent quality poison on each one of these!"

So, had they chosen the first option, they would have been dead in the next minute. Another burst of fire speared for them and Mersem had barely ducked behind a shelf. He swore he could feel the heat singeing the ends of his hair and the hairs on the back of his neck. Where's Leara?

"There's no way we could get close with that hag when she's torching us like that," she huffed beside him. When did she even get here? "Of all people we would meet, a mage!"

She muttered a string of curses in what Mersem guessed to be her native dialect. All hope of getting out alive died off in Mersem's gut. If mages were involved in this, then they really didn't stand a chance. What could a thin rapier do against an unrelenting force such as fire?

"Come out, you destructive vermin!" Aramale's shrill voice echoed against the cabin's flat ceiling. "Let me torch you to ashes!"

Yeah, as if that would happen.

"Leara, I've got an idea," he said, looking left and right for a sign of the shop keeper's fiery frame. "I'm going to distract her. Figure out how to corner her."

He didn't see Leara nod but he burst out of his hiding spot and shouted to the best of his ability, "I can give you a different payment!"

A column of fire hissed to a stop before it touched his nose. Aramale was a few steps ahead, past an upturned shelf courtesy of Mersem. "The third option," Mersem was huffing, his heart beat pounding against his chest and ringing in his ears. "I'll tell you a secret."

Aramale frowned. "You make sure it's a sweet secret," she stalked closer. "What is it? Tell me."

"I prefer it if you're closer so I can whisper it to your ear," Mersem said. "It's...a little personal."

The shopkeeper nodded. "Alright, alright," she got within an arm's length from Mersem. "Tell me. Tell me."

He took a deep breath and cupped a hand beside his mouth. "The thief," he whispered, resisting the urge to cringe at the sight of Aramale's hairy ears. Were they shaped...a little pointy? No. Must be his imagination pulling the strings. He leaned closer. "She's my sister."

Aramale's eyes widened. "Oh," she clapped her hands. "Oh, that's juicy. Mm."

"So, will you tell us where she went?" Mersem asked.

"No, I'll still kill you for trashing my shop."

"Now!" He screamed at no one. Hopefully, Leara could hear.

Something whipped behind Aramale's shoulder. White strands danced in Mersem's vision. The next thing he knew, Leara had the tip of her rapier poised at the shopkeeper's throat. She had Aramale pinned to the floor, a hand pressing the keeper's face to the floorboards. "If you value your life," Leara hissed. "You'd honor the deal."

"Let me go, you heathen!" Aramale squirmed but Leara only tightened her grip.

"Go on," Leara's voice was flat and showed no empathy. "It would be a sad end for you to be pierced through by a thin sword," she dug the point deeper into the shopkeeper's throat, enough to draw a thin line of blood. Mersem stepped forward to attempt to cut it off but Leara's withering glare stopped him.

"I'll talk!" Aramale screamed, no doubt feeling the warm trickle of her own blood spew from her skin. "I'll talk! Let me go first."

Leara narrowed her eyes. "Not a chance, hag," she growled. "Where is the thief and where is she going?"

Tears formed on the edges of Aramale's eyes. "S-she was last seen in the forests of Valtis," she shrieked. "She's on her way towards Krigisa and, finally, into the neutral territory in favor of Lotherne."

"What is she going to Lotherne for?" Mersem blurted.

"I-I don't know! Something about a sword!" Aramale pounded a hand against the floorboards when Leara urged her further with her sword. "Yes, the sword! It's supposed to be special. A special sword. Please spare me!"

Leara glowered. "Let us out safely and I'll consider it," she said. "Don't try anything funny. I'm a knight in the Striden Order and I will personally make you suffer if a strand of my hair is touched on our way out. Got it?"

Aramale nodded against Leara's hand. "Got it, lady."

The lady knight edged away from the shopkeeper and nodded at Mersem. Together, they ran towards the door and, before Aramale could get to them, they slammed the door shut.

The travel back was muted. Leara played with the pommel of her rapier and Mersem was lost in his thoughts. Silke had outwitted them by crossing through Valtis to go around the Pike Mountains to get into Krigisa. Now, she's probably on her way towards the neutral lands like Mersem had predicted. He didn't like how he proved he was right, though.

Aramale said something about a sword. A special sword. Was that the one SIlke had pulled out from the stone in the armory? If so, what was it and why was it that important?

For now, Mersem could only ponder. Tomorrow, they will have to climb a mountain.