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it my people.”
    “What’s your name, sir?” Bren asked.
    “Unsel. I am the village elder,” the old man answered.
    “Master Unsel, I need you and your people to get back into your homes and businesses. I don’t think the raid is over yet. I think the bandits are regrouping for another run.” He dismounted. “Tat, it’s time to don your armor.”
    Tatrice and Bren had begun to unload their armor from their horses when they were approached by a man wearing black leather armor and carrying a sword at his side. He wore his black hair short cropped and he was clean shaven. His dark eyes gave away an intensity in his demeanor.
    “Ho there, strangers. What business do you have in Briarwick this day?” the man asked.
    Bren stopped unloading his armor. “We intend to help you with your bandit situation.”
    “To what situation are you referring? I have it well in hand.”
    “And who might you be, then?” Bren asked.
    “Forgive me, I have not introduced myself. I am Ezra Bannon, the village reeve. It is my job to uphold the laws of Briarwick.”
    “Master Bannon, I am pleased to see you. I believe you are still vulnerable to attack and . . .”
    “Perhaps you did not hear me, friend. I said I have the situation in hand,” Bannon restated. “You may ride on.”
    Bren studied the man’s face for a moment. “No, I don’t believe you do,
Master Bannon. I believe the attack you have already suffered was to assess your strengths and weaknesses for the main attack yet to come.”
    “Nonsense. The bandits already got what they came for. I don’t see why they should return.”
    “Oh, and what did they get?”
    Bannon hesitated. “Who did you say you were, friend?”
    “I am Bren, First of Amadace. I am a dragon knight. And this is Tatrice, First of Shadesilver, also a dragon knight.”
    He chuckled before speaking “I have never heard of a female knight, friend.”
    Bren grinned at the nerve of the fellow. “Well, you have now, friend , so why don’t you fill us in on the goings on here.”
    “If you insist, I will tell you so you may be on your way,” the reeve said. “We were hosting a wedding party and the father of the bride brought along a sizable dowry. The bandits killed the imprinter and stole the gold from her. I have two deputies in pursuit of the bandits now.”
    Tatrice got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Do you know the imprinter’s name by chance?”
    “Aye, Neisa or Ni’esa or something to that effect,” he told her.
    Tatrice put her hand over her mouth. “Oh no, it can’t be true.”
    “Did you know this imprinter?” Bannon asked.
    Tatrice lowered her hand and nodded. “We knew her.”
    Bannon motioned to a building nearby. “In that case, you two might as well follow me. I have a few questions that you may be able to answer.”
    “Certainly, we will tell you all we know,” Bren said. “I am not sure how helpful we can be though. We only met the woman once.”
    When they entered the reeve’s office, the first thing Tatrice noticed was a man sitting in a chair by the fire with his back to them. The top of the chair obscured all but the black hair on the top of his head. Puffs of grey and white smoke wafted into the air above him. Tatrice surveyed the room and decided that it needed a woman’s touch. The room was constructed entirely of wood. A quaint wood-burning stove stood in the corner. From the smell of the room the stove had a pot of bittering tea boiling on it. She could also smell the Stranger’s tabac at the fireplace. The two aromas intermingled into a pleasant, yet masculine scent. The fragrance of the tabac was a bit different than the cherry-blossom-smelling tabac of Symboria; it had a pleasing hint of vanilla. Tatrice assumed the closed wooden door at the rear of the room led to prisoner quarters or living quarters for the reeve.
    The stamping and stomping sound of Tatrice and Bren’s oots made on the floor didn’t seem to alert the man smoking his