The Valley of Lies (Lightkeepers #1)

Chapter TEN: Zan

"W-will you be at the Revelry?" The female Gidaran's voice shook, at odds with the harsh tone of her voice. "If you come across any further details, we could discuss them."

"I shall be there, but you will not know me. You have nothing else I need."

The tent flap rustled. Zan jumped behind a stack of shipping crates and waited with breath held as a slender, robed figure emerged from the tent in a mist of gray smoke that stunk of campfires and turned soil. They–-or it-–sauntered down the wide wooden boardwalk of the wharf, paying no attention to anyone and eventually drifting out of sight.

Zan waited several more minutes before emerging. He'd intended to announce himself, but the tent flap was still open, and the female satyr was standing by the street. Her round eyes were on the distant spot where the stranger had disappeared into the twilight.

"Hail, traveler," Zan said, adopting the favored greeting of the Gidaran. He hoped the she-satyr would find no fault in his words or accent. If she suspected him, it would all be over.

She turned on her sandy hooves and regarded Zan, her head tilted. The only clothing she wore was a leather vest which left little to the imagination, and a matching belt around her waist. She was nearly the same size as Zan and as full of hair and muscle. But that was typical of their species.

"Hail, traveler," she parroted. "Have we met?"

"Doubtful. I was passing through town when I heard there was to be a Revelry in Blackwater by week's end and thought to myself, I should like to attend one of these famous witchy affairs. See what all the fuss is about. I stopped at that inn yonder." Zan pointed over his shoulder, toward The Elusive Catch, the cheapest place in town for a transient to rent, and the closest to the docks. The sign that hung over the door was missing a few letters, but anyone with half a brain could fill in the blanks. "Patrons over at the Catch told me I should come down here and offer a trade. I'm not trying to compete with you, mind. Just stopping for a few days. Won't even be setting up shop."

The Gidaran cast scrutinizing eyes on him. Zan's palms sweated. Had he said something conspicuous? Did satyrs not patronize inns? He was sure they did. Pretty sure.

"Who is it, Rika?"

The male satyr ducked out of the tent, stretching to his full and unashamedly naked height. Zan's first instinct was to balk at the half-beast's sheer size, until he remembered he was just as big and bad. For now.

"I don't know." Rika shrugged, her reddish brown eyebrows raised in twin arcs. "Who are you, stranger?"

"Name's Ronin," Zan said. "I thought perhaps we could swap stories. I've a juicy one straight from the Coven."

"Nobody has dirt on the Coven. It's impenetrable." The male satyr pointed at the duo of black-robed elven guards standing at attention at the gate. They appeared defenseless, but rumor had it they wielded enough magic to thwart an entire army.

Zan had never actually seen Blackwater guards use their magic, but he wasn't inclined to provoke them into a display.

"I can't reveal my sources, you understand," he said in an undertone, holding a beefy hand to the side of his mouth. "But it involves the Yansu."

"The dragons?" Rika's long canines peeked out behind thin lips parted in surprise. "Surely they aren't in conflict with the Coven. The entire world would have heard about it. If we survived the battle."

"You can doubt me, or you can invite me in for the story of a lifetime."

The male satyr snorted, folding his massive arms across his chest. "Only a fool attempts to barter 'the story of a lifetime.'"