Chapter 7 - The Thief's Tale

Meena Mason’s Podcast

The cat is out of the bag. The love birds united at last, but, alas, revealing your affection for the love of your life does not supplant the warrant for your arrest nor will it prevent a determined dungeon keeper from stretching your neck at the end of a well-tied noose. Only preparation, craftiness and a lot of luck will do that. While Kessa heals from a disastrous fish bite... ahem... monster bite, Aquestria, Rake, and Pantheus formulate their escape. Will they manage it or will Malieous Fayne, the formidable dungeon keeper of Cyrene, thwart their best laid plans?

Chapter 7 of the audiobook version of Meena Mason's, The Thief's Tale.

Chapter 7 Excerpt:

Pantheus felt like he was among a throng of nervous sheep, and on more than one occasion, had to grab Aquestria’s hand to keep from being parted.

“This is madness!” he hollered, his voice almost obliterated by the wind.

Casually surveying the area, as was her habit, Aquestria smirked, acknowledging that Pantheus obviously didn’t shop very often. True, the imminent storm had riled the crowd more than usual, but this frenzy wasn’t all that different from the average market day.

“This way!” she called, seizing his cloak in case he didn’t hear and yanking him toward a leather working stall. “Four water flasks, please.”

After bargaining, Aquestria placed two silver coins on the counter and said thank you as the merchant produced their purchase. Handing the flasks to Pantheus, she watched thoughtfully while he put them in his pack.

“What else do we need?”

Suddenly, she stepped back, abruptly slamming her arm into Pantheus’ chest forcing him backward. A wooden arrow pierced the beam of the market stall where he’d been standing, its shaft still quivering from the intensity of the impact. Aquestria was gone before the shaft was motionless, intent on pursuing the shooter. Diving for cover, Pantheus scanned the vicinity for signs of suspicious activity.

Apparently, the leather worker was the only other person to have noticed the arrow because he was cowering behind his stall.

“He’s come for me!” he cried, peering over top his stall and ducking just as another arrow thumped into the counter directly above where his head had been.

“Who?” Pantheus asked, clambering closer to the merchant.

Swallowing hard, the merchant clasped his hands together. His eyes directed to where the arrow had come from, his lips moved in a plea for whoever was after him to spare him.

Pantheus seized his arm impatiently. “Who is after you, man?”

Before the man could answer, Pantheus saw the crowd systematically clear a large circle around two people. Aquestria, holding a discharged crossbow, stood over a man lying face down in the dirt. Seconds later, the man rolled away from her and got to his feet.

“Kale,” the merchant announced shakily.

Thunder clapped accentuating the merchant’s dread. Hesitantly, he left his hiding place, his eyes darting around warily.

“It must be Kale. He’s Dredan’s most feared collector. He rips people apart. I owe Dredan money. I missed two payments, and Dredan said if it happened again, he’d send Kale. I should’ve paid him yesterday, but I didn’t have the money. I was hoping to make enough today; I didn’t think he’d send Kale so quickly. Help your lady, if you can, friend. I’m sure glad you paid up front.”