Barclay could put up a flyer of his own. With so many Lore Keepers in town for the Exhibition, surely someone would know how to help him. But he had one problem: he had no reward to give.
It was hard to concentrate on this problem, however, because the kids behind him had begun to chatter louder.
“The Fang of Dusk is the one who’s here,” said the last kid. “It’s why my parents let me travel to the Woods and enter a year early, even though next year’s Exhibition will be at home in the Jungle.”
“But the Fang of Dusk has never accepted apprenticesbefore!” the first girl squeaked, and nearly dropped the foxlike Beast asleep in her arms.
“Maybe no one’s good enough for her,” Tadg said, shrugging.
The boy next to him looked shocked. “But you have a Mythic Beast! If anyone has a chance, it’s—”
Barclay, unable to help himself, let out a loud snort. After all,hehad a Mythic Beast. He hadn’t even been trying to bond with it, so how hard could it have been?
His outburst earned him a number of suspicious and annoyed looks from the group. He quickly cleared his throat and turned back to the bulletin board.
“You have something to add, do you?” Tadg demanded.
Barclay was so used to running from Falk that he peeked down the street for an exit. “No,” he replied nervously. “I didn’t say anything.”
Tadg squinted at him. “You have a reason to be skulking outside of the Guild?”
Barclay didn’t like the idea of talking to Tadg or his band of admirers, but if they were entering the Exhibition, then theywereLore Keepers. Maybe they could help him—or find someone who could.
“I’m looking for help.” He spoke with his best grown-up-pleasing voice, which he used in Dullshire whenever he’d been spotted breaking a rule. But it didn’t work here. In fact, it made several of their expressions sour. “Maybe you know someone who could help me?”
“Help with what?” asked Tadg, his arms crossed.
“I’m looking to remove my Beast tattoo. I mean, my Mark.”
All at once, the group burst out in laughter.
“I knew it! Listen to him talk! He’s an Elsie!”
“He’s smells like a skunk!”
“It’s probably just a Dizzisnuff that he thinks will kill him.”
“How did he even make it here without being eaten?”
Barclay’s face heated at their words, and he was about to storm away when Tadg stepped into his path. His usual sneer was even meaner.
“If you’re worried that your Beast will escape, even an Elsie likeyoucould control a Familiar class bond.”
“It’s not Familiar class,” Barclay said darkly.
Tadg raised his eyebrows. “You’re probably confused. Summon it, then. We’ll set you straight.” His voice choked, as though he was trying to stop himself from laughing again.
Barclay didn’t know how to summon the Lufthund. Nor did summoning a Beast so dangerous in a crowded square sound like a good idea. Even if Viola assured him it wouldn’t happen again, this reminded him too much of what had happened at Dullshire’s festival, when Barclay’s powers had gone out of control.
Just then, a woman appeared behind Barclay and put her hand on his shoulder. She had wild, dark hair that hung toher waist and a collection of different weapons slung in her belt. They were each far larger than his mushroom knife.
“I know someone who might be able to help you,” she told Barclay.
In her presence, the others stopped their laughter and shot one another nervous looks.
“You do? I’d be really grateful if you could recommend me,” Barclay said. He used his grown-up-pleasing voice again, and this time it earned him an approving look from the woman. Even if her grip on his shoulder was a little too tight.
She pointed down the street. “Go to the Bog’s Inn and ask for Soren Reiker.”
