Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(35)

“Keita!” The elf tried to stand, slammed his head, and sat back down.

“Oh, Gorlas! My heart of hearts. Are you all right?” Laughing, she crawled under several tables to get to him. He pouted, and she pulled his head to her breast and petted the spot where he’d slammed it. Rumor was Gorlas was nearly a thousand years old, but he looked only to be thirty-five or so. “Your poor head. I don’t know how it handles the abuse.”

“It’s not only dragons with hard heads, my dear Keita. We elves are known for them.” He pulled back and studied her. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for information.”

“About?”

“My aunt. Esyld.”

“Oh. Of course.” Gorlas rubbed his sore head. “Found out about her lover then, did you?” And when Keita only stared at him, his smile faded, and he said, “Or…perhaps not.”

“Brother Ragnar!”

“Brother Simon.” Ragnar allowed the human monk to hug him. “It’s been a long time, brother.”

“It has. It has.” Simon pulled back and frowned. “Good gods, man, you haven’t changed in forty years.”

“A blessing from our patron gods, brother. They’ve been kind to me.”

“I see that.” Simon shook his head and offered Ragnar a seat in his den.

Ragnar, worried the weak wood chair wouldn’t be able to hold his human frame, sat down gingerly. He currently wore the robes of the Order of the Knowledge. A well-known and powerful Northland order whose members rarely left their precious Spikenhammer Library. And since Brother Simon’s Order of the Shining Suns rarely traveled farther than Fenella’s city borders, Ragnar always felt safe presenting himself as a Knowledge member. He’d found throughout his more than two centuries that traveling as a monk was often the safest way to get around. Thieves and brigands rarely challenged him or those who traveled with him, because monks were notoriously poor and all about their gods and being pious.

“So what brings you here, brother?” Simon asked, lifting a decanter of wine.

“No thank you, brother. And I’m actually only passing through. But I did have a question and I knew you were the one who could answer it. If that’s all right with you, of course.”

“Of course indeed, brother!”

Forty years and, except for physically, Simon had not changed. He enjoyed being the source of all knowledge so much that he never thought too much about whom he told things to. He just liked that he’d been asked.

“I’m wondering about a bookstore.”

Simon picked up his chalice of wine and chuckled. “You’ll have to be more specific than that, brother. Fenella has many bookstores.”

“An extremely large one. Over on Saxton Street.”

“Ah, yes. Owned by an elf, I believe.”

“An elf?” Ragnar tried to emulate the sense of surprise he’d felt earlier when he’d seen an elf with his arm around Keita’s shoulders, the pair of them heading to the back of the store. First Ragnar at the fair, now this elf. Honestly, was there any male that She-dragon didn’t make it her business to seduce? “In the city?”

“There are no problems with elves here in Fenella. Gorlas is his name, and he’s a nice enough chap. One of the few bookstore owners who allows our young brothers to spend hours browsing without making them buy anything.”

“And is there anything else?”

Simon frowned a bit. “Anything else?”

“Well, when I went in there, I had a”—Ragnar looked up at the ceiling as if trying to get the answer from one of his gods, always nice for dramatic effect when dealing with monks—“sense of something. Something beneath the surface.”

Simon pursed his lips. “Well…there are always rumors.”

“Oh? What kind of rumors?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I’m sure.”

“And you know I don’t like to spread rumor or gossip.”

“Of course not, brother. And I only ask because I sense the gods are trying to tell me something. I’m just not sure what. But I knew if there was one person who could help…it was Brother Simon.”

“Oh. Well.” It was sad, really. How the monk couldn’t resist the compliment. Which was why Ragnar used the man for information, but never returned the favor. At least not with any information that could do any real damage.

Simon leaned forward, and Ragnar did the same. “There have been rumors.”

“Yes?”

“That that particular bookstore is a cover for—”

“An orgy den? A prostitution ring? A sex-slave commune?” Simon blinked. “Uh…no.”

Feeling foolish, Ragnar explained, “Sorry. Again, it was that sense I got.”

“I understand, but it’s nothing that interesting, I’m afraid, brother.

Actually, the rumors I’ve heard are almost silly, but…I have heard it said that the bookstore is a cover, or a front, you might say…for a guild.”

“A thief’s guild?” Ragnar asked bluntly, thinking of Keita’s constantly growing wardrobe.

“No, no. A spy guild.”

Ragnar sat up straight, his chair making noises that suggested it wouldn’t last much longer, but Ragnar didn’t care. He was too blindsided by Brother Simon’s words. “A spy guild?”