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Vindrake murmured in low tones, “Finding their leader is your task, Spugen. Many have been killed in the battle and most others are fighting the fire, so we cannot delay.”

“Where should I search? In the square?”

“I believe you’ll find a few surviving leaders at the base of the Craedenza, but you must not step foot on that rock. Speak to them from a safe distance. Don’t dismount your horse.”

“But what should I say, Sire? Should I tell them I’ll kill them if they don’t surrender?”

Markaeus had a feeling this man was gifted in strength rather than wisdom, and perhaps he was missing some of his normal wisdom allowance, as well.

“No, you imbecile! If sixty of my best warriors couldn’t kill them, why would they believe you could do it alone?”

“Yes, Master Vindrake.” He ducked his chin as if expecting a blow.

“Simply tell their leader I’ll return these four children, unharmed, and all I wish in return is full control of the Craedenza. In exchange for their cooperation, I won’t interfere with their daily lives in Glaenshire. When I find my particular scroll, I’ll be on my way and return the Craedenza to their control. The leaders should be receptive to that message.”

The scroll—of course! Arista stole the scroll from Vindrake, and he wants it back.

“Master Vindrake! Master Vindrake!” Markaeus called. “I know where your scroll is.”

His words were truth. He knew exactly where the scroll was. In a green bag, inside the Craedenza. And not only inside the protective stone walls, but also inside the secret room Meravelle neglected to mention to Markaeus. Markaeus chose the gressor-hidden room as the perfect hiding place, reasoning the scroll needed as much protection as possible.

But he had no intention of taking Vindrake to the scroll. No... he had a much better notion.

**************

What little patience Vindrake had disintegrated into ashes.

The boy insisted the other children must be released before he would agree to lead Vindrake to the scroll. The boy wasn’t lying—he truly believed he knew the location of a manuscript that, from his description, must surely be the Maladorn Scroll. On the other hand, he was only a child, and could be mistaken.

Reasoning that a single child could still serve as a hostage if the scroll was not the one he sought, Vindrake acquiesced. To be doubly certain the boy couldn’t escape, however, Vindrake hobbled him with a short chain cuffed between his feet.

Chaining his feet, unfortunately, resulted in a slower trip, as the annoying urchin hobbled ahead while spewing a nonstop monologue about nothing of consequence.

“Do you never tire of talking?” Vindrake griped.

“Not really. My sister says I could talk to a brick wall, although I’m uncertain what that means. But I wish to be a storyteller someday. I have dreams at night, and each one seems real. Have you ever dreamed such a dream? I have. The dreams are so real I wish I might never awaken. One time—”

“Enough about dreams.” Vindrake cut him off. “Why is your hair cut in such an odd fashion?”

“I like it short. I don’t care to bathe often, and long hair gets dirty faster. I once knew a man who had hair down to his knees, and it was so dirty that mice had nests in it—”

“I care not about this man’s filthy hair. Tell me about your scroll. You say you hid it? How did you come to possess the scroll?”

“Yes, Master Vindrake. It’s a beautiful scroll with lovely lettering, although I don’t know what the words say. I can’t read.”

“This scroll isn’t in a language you could read,” said Vindrake, not bothering to mask his irritation. “At any rate, you may not have the scroll for which I’m searching.”

“Oh no, I’m certain this is the one you want. Kaevin says this scroll is evil... just like you, Master Vindrake.”

Vindrake was both shocked and pleased when the boy mentioned Kaevin, realizing this was most likely the genuine scroll stolen from his trunk. But for some reason, Vindrake objected to the boy’s frank assessment and felt compelled to respond.

“I’m not evil. I’m simply determined to fulfill my God-given destiny. I don’t allow conventions of predetermined morality to impede my goal. When I’m king of all of Tenavae, I will bring peace. Then all will know the truth and give me the praise I deserve. Do you understand the difference?”

The boy didn’t respond at first, and Vindrake found himself unduly anxious to hear his opinion.

“Master Vindrake, I believe you must be quite gifted in wisdom, for you speak with a great number of big words.”

Vindrake chuckled. Of course, the boy doesn’t comprehend these complex matters.

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