NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: Adventures of the Creeping Bam (BOOK 2: One Cold Trail)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: KESLA

Pulling one of the stacked chairs free from its place against the back wall, I carry it back to set it down in the proper place before taking a moment to unbuckle my swordbelt. Thinking about it for a moment, I wrap the strap around the scabbard and pass it to Shay, who accepts it amicably enough. Might not be the best idea to set it down on the floor beside me while I'm seated this time, no matter how cowed our young guest is. Better not to leave any temptations to hand at all.

After another beat of consideration I shrug out of my coat too, taking a long, drawn out moment to fold it before holding it out to Gael. They look at me for a beat before stepping forward to collect it, but I don't need to look at them to know they're fighting the urge to give me a look right back. I just keep my eyes on the young man planted in the chair in front of me as I start to unbuckle my right-wrist bracer, taking my time with it, making a show as I start to slip out of it. Once it's free I hold this out too, and it's collected quickly enough, allowing me to unbutton the sleeve of my shirt and start rolling it up to my elbow. Once I'm done with that I start the whole process again with the left. I don't look away from him once.

He won't make eye contact with me, which is a good sign. I'm keeping my face neutral, not being overtly threatening, but the implication in what I'm doing's clear enough. He can see that, while I'm no longer wearing my sword or handaxes, I still got my knives to hand. I let his imagination run as I prepare myself, taking my time to let him stew.

We've ended up in a backroom, somewhere in the small labyrinth of sorting rooms, restricted access book-stacks and stores frequented by the attendant staff and other clergy, usually not accessible to most of those who are welcome in the rest of the temple. I've been assured this is about as secure as the place gets, not only guarded by the same physical forces who police other Order territories but also warded with powerful defensive magics that are well-maintained by the resident wizards on the temple staff. There's no danger of us being disturbed here, and it's no more likely our prisoner could be traced than the curse could be remotely activated through the barrier spells. At least that's what they told me, I don't know how it all works and I still ain't entirely convinced I really trust it.

This room's just used for basic resource storage, no books or magic items, just chairs and boxed supplies and the like. A space was cleared in here in anticipation before we arrived, and it's easily large enough to accommodate all of us and our new guest, with room to spare. We've had no trouble spreading out around him as he sits in a lonely wooden chair, back to the wall, directly under the light of one of the oil lamps mounted around the walls.

There were three guards in here when we arrived, along with an attendant, but they cleared out as soon as we requested a little privacy. Now the only other person left is one of the resident wizards of the temple clergy, conspicuously not the same one who collected the boy when we first arrived. This one's younger, but the moment I met her I was utterly convinced of her competency. She's a sharp one, the look she gave me when we arrived saw right through me, and when I asked if she was sure the curse was good and neutralised she actually rolled her eyes before answering me.

I've never met a half-hob before, but I've heard about them even so. They're a rare thing, hobgoblins don't tend to breed easily with other races, apparently, but when they do the results tend to be pretty interesting. From her swarthy, somewhat leathern skin to the thick bristly patches of hair growing around her more subtle snout, there's a certain harsh, feral edge to her features that's nonetheless quite striking. Her eyes are even darker than my own, but there's more white in them too, they're more human, which takes me by surprise, and I suspect she might be more comfortable in sunlight than her parent, whoever they might have been. She wears her thick, somewhat unruly dark hair bound back in a long braid, and it matches her robes, which are simple, somewhat worn and entirely without frills. It seems to suit what's clearly a no-nonsense personality.