Read The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II for Free Online Page B

fresh to be potent.”
    Natrac’s business inside the house took almost no time at all. “We’re in luck,” he said as he emerged. “There’s a Tharashk bounty hunter in the city at the moment who’s supposed to know western Droaam. He favors one of the other
gaeth’ad
houses, but the person I spoke to thinks he might be there now. I’m told he’s the best available.”
    “That sounds like a good start,” said Singe. “Let’s find him.”
    The
gaeth’ad
house that Natrac led them to had a crooked hunda stick like Orshok’s hung over the door to serve as a sign. Unlike the previous house, its windows were covered in slat shutters that allowed air to circulate but gave those within a greater degree of privacy. Dandra paused for a moment inside the door to let her eyes adjust. The interior of the house was a dim, quiet room broken up by screens made of coarse paper. The screens made it hard to judge how many people might have been in the place—perhaps half of the tables that she could see were occupied, though she couldn’t always see whether their occupants drank their tea alone or in the company of someone else. The atmosphere was thick, humid even for Zarash’ak, and laced with a sweet-acrid smell.
    Natrac walked up to the bar, a long polished counter that stood in front of jar-lined shelves more suitable to an apothecary’s shop, and spoke in Orc to a young half-orc on the other side. A few coins changed hands, disappearing into her sleeves, and she nodded. She pointed deeper into the maze of screens. Natrac turned back to Singe and Dandra.
    “He’s here,” he said. “Follow me.”
    Behind a screen at the very back of the house, a high-pitched voice was speaking softly in a harsh language Dandra didn’t understand. Every few minutes, a deeper voice would add something in the same language. Natrac paused just beyond the screen and cleared his throat. The high-pitched voice broke off andDandra was certain that she heard the soft whisper of a dagger being drawn.
    “Yes?” called the deeper voice.
    “I’m looking for Chain d’Tharashk,” said Natrac.
    “Come through,” said the deep voice. “All three of you.”
    Dandra felt a trace of unease. She held up the three fingers to Singe and mouthed silently, how did he know?
    The wizard looked unimpressed. He lifted a foot and pointed to it. Chain had heard their footsteps, Dandra realized.
    “Old trick,” Singe murmured as Natrac disappeared around the screen. Singe gestured for Dandra to follow the half-orc, then fell in behind her.
    The man who sat at the table on the other side of the screen was large. No, Dandra thought, “large” didn’t do him justice. Standing up, he would be taller than Natrac, maybe as tall as Ashi. His muscles were nearly as thick as Geth’s, bulging out from beneath a stained, sleeveless leather shirt. Nearly obscured by hair on his left forearm, a small dragonmark twisted and turned in a slash of color. The thick stubble on the man’s face matched the length of the stubble on his shaved head. Beneath heavy eyebrows, his eyes were dark and alert. “You’ve found me,” he said. “I’m Chain.”
    His voice matched the rest of him—dark, heavy, and threatening. Any doubts Dandra had about leaving Geth and Ashi behind vanished immediately. Chain was a walking challenge. She didn’t think either the shifter or the hunter could have even spoken to him without starting a fight.
    There were two chairs before the table. Natrac took one and Singe gestured for Dandra to take the other. She seated herself, shifting her spear out of the way. There was a fourth chair, but it was occupied by the source—or so Dandra assumed—of the high-pitched voice she had heard before. A goblin crouched in the chair, his slight frame tensing as Dandra touched the shaft of her spear. Reddish eyes in a flat face the color of dirty parchment watched each of them closely. One of the small creature’s hands was hidden by an enormous