Dragon Soul - The Ancestor Gods Saga Book 1

10. The Scarred Man

She opened the looking mirror and found him. Tylesin rolled over on the bed, sensing her gaze as an itch running down his spine.

"I have not found it yet."

"It is near," She said. "I sense it."

She had been casting Her runes and, after them, Her bones. All had revealed the same information.

"They are in the keeping of a person who is nearby," She told Tylesin. "A person who is not native to the town."

Tylesin sighed and sat up in bed. He was naked as the night was hot and when he threw back the blankets, She looked at him with an admiring gaze. She did cast handsome offspring, even if Tylesin had a little more mortal blood in his body than She cared for.

"Fancy giving me a clue where to look before I drag myself out of bed," Tylesin growled in her direction.

"Remember who holds your fate in the balance," She responded.

Tylesin turned his head away from the flicker of light in his room that told him where She was watching from.

"They are very close," She said, conceding a fraction because She needed him to find her stolen property and She needed it done swiftly. "The runes state you shall be in the same place as this thief tonight."

"I am in an inn," Tylesin yawned.

"Then they shall be in the inn," She replied. "The runes make it plain you will meet tonight. The question is only if you will recognise the thief."

Tylesin muttered to himself.

"It is late."

"Not so late the inn is not open," She coaxed him, Her eyes still following his every contour.

Tylesin gave in. He rose and grabbed up his clothes.

"A person not native to the town," he grumbled to himself. "Could the runes not have given me a name?"

She allowed his curt comment to pass without a reaction from her. Tylesin dressed, then looked in her direction again.

"Are you going to follow me?"

She tilted her head, finding his ill-humour amusing. Then She swiped Her hand and the looking mirror closed.

Tylesin was alone in his chamber again. He glared at the spot on the ceiling where She had been watching him, trying to force his spite and hate into the plasterwork. Then he shook his head and let all his emotion slip away. She was not worthy of his time, at least not when it came to his frustration. The sooner he had this business cleared up, the sooner he would be free from Her attentions – or so he told himself.

He headed downstairs, wiping the last dregs of sleep from his eyes. There was a sour smell of sweat and ale coming from the main room of the tavern. Smoke hung like a sheet in the air, puffed from a dozen pipes, all of varying quality. He stepped into the room unnoticed. This was the sort of inn where people minded their own business.

Lillith was not at the counter serving. In her stead was a fat man with a girth that was barely contained by his breeches. His stomach bulged over his belt with a hint of flesh visible where his shirt ended. He was sweating profusely and had the look of a man who is always in a bad mood. He was serving customers with ill grace, nearly throwing their drinks at them.

"Where is that girl?" he barked at no one in particular, wiping one yellowing sleeve over his forehead.

Tylesin kept his distance, surveying the room quietly and discreetly. One of his talents was the knack to go unnoticed if he chose. He had never determined if this was a power granted him by his unusual blood, or merely something he had developed over the centuries as a tactic for keeping out of trouble. Even in his foreign garb and with skin several shades darker than the darkest man in the room, he was able to step back and virtually vanish.