Thancred lived on the west side of Ul'dah, in a cheap room on the third floor of an apartment building. The room looked and smelled as if it hadn't been cleaned in years, but Arden kept his opinions to himself. He took the sofa for a bed, which was rather too small for him, and passed an uncomfortable night bent in half to fit on it.
"You can have the floor tomorrow night," Thancred said the next morning, watching Arden apply healing magic to his sore back.
Arden nodded, wondering what diseases lurked on that dirty floor, but said nothing. Maybe the healer's guild would give him lodging if he agreed to work as a standby healer.
The arena was alive with activity when Arden arrived. The other healers dragged him in, sent him to the showers, and afterward set him to work cutting up linen for bandages.
"Big tournament starts today," one of the women told him as they worked. "Over a hundred new hopefuls have signed up, mostly Ala Mhigo refugees hoping to get out of the camp. We'll be putting them back together all day."
"Apologies, but I'm new to Eorzea," said Arden. "What is Ala Mhigo, and why are there refugees?"
The healers, being all women, were happy to tell him the tale.
Ala Mhigo was a kingdom to the northwest of the Black Shroud, bordering the sea. It was a beautiful country of rugged mountains and forests and colorful deserts. But its last king had gone insane and murdered most of his own family, leaving no heirs. The common folk had risen up to overthrow him, only for the Garlean Empire to invade them at their weakest.
"If you want my opinion, the Garleans did them a kindness," said one woman. "We got refugees from the crazy king, too, and the stories they told! At least Garlemald restored order."
"How can you say that?" the other women exclaimed. "The folk of Ala Mhigo are little more than slaves to the Garleans and their war machina. That's why so many of them fled on any vessel they could lay hands on. The Black Wolf built that wall to keep people from fleeing to Gridania, or they'd have the problems we do."
"Why do refugees come here?" Arden asked, his baritone voice a contrast to the twittering of the women. "Ul'dah is right at the southern end of the continent."
"We're the richest city, aren't we?" said a healer. "Ul'dah turns the sand to gold, they say. Poor folk come here to seek their fortune, but we've a glut of cheap work. Not enough jobs. The Syndicate is supposed to convene to discuss new measures to put in place, but they don't do anything that doesn't line their pockets."
"Lots of Ala Mhigans end up here, on the bloodsands," said another healer. "Raubahn Aldynn himself, head of Ul'dah's military, is a refugee. They all look up to him and his fight through the ranks in the arena. Talk about a success story."
"Much of Othard, too, has fallen to the Garlean Empire," said Arden in a low voice. "My journey to Eorzea was fraught with much peril."
"You're not a refugee, are you?" said a healer, eyeing him.
"Of course not," said Arden, squaring his shoulders. "I am a man of the Azim Steppes. I have come here to study the healing arts that I might go back and tend my people. I will save many lives. Garlemald has no interest in conquering our tribes yet, though that may change. We are a far flung people with no city to fall upon and ravage."
"We're privileged to have you with us, Arden," said another healer. The other women repeated this warmly. This was the point that Arden realized he was the only male healer in the entire organization, and felt extremely awkward for a few minutes. Then he decided that he must set a good example for them and treat them with the utmost courtesy, and the awkwardness eased.
Talk turned to other topics, and by and by they began discussing curses. It seemed that in the arena, a new category was being opened for mages to fight each other with magic.
"Magic injuries are the worst," said Inga, wrinkling her nose. "I can heal a sword cut quick as winking, but what do I do with a chap who's been turned into a sheep?"
Another healer said, "Esuna cures most curses and hexes, but it uses the water element instead of earth. If a conjurer hasn't studied water, they're helpless against curses."
Arden cleared his throat. "I am afflicted by the remains of a curse. I was sent here for the sunlight, but it pains me all the same."
The women clamored for the details, so he told them the story. Then three of them cast Esuna on him, which felt cool and refreshing. He felt cured, but wouldn't know for certain until the sun set, because nightfall always made his pain appear.
"See me after the arena closes tonight," said Inga. "I'll set you a crash course on water magic and Esuna."
Arden took the opportunity to inquire about his schedule. The arena ran seven days a week during the spring, but the healers traded shifts to avoid aether burnout. Arden would have a day off every five days. The arena closed for the summer because of the hot weather, and resumed games in the fall and winter.
When he asked about a place to stay, the healers were happy to give him the standby healer position. He was given a tiny room to himself with the stipulation that he was on call for healing any time of the day or night. Arden, having lived most of his life as a shepherd, thought of it as lambing season. At least he was indoors and not freezing in the cold winds on the Steppe.
The week passed quickly. Arden worked his healing, practiced resurrection, and studied water magic in his bits of spare time. The night before his off day, Inga paid him his wages, which were quite generous, and handed him a book of water magic exercises.
"There's water aether everywhere if you know where to look," she said. "The cacti in the desert are full of it."
"I'm going to Vesper Bay to meet friends," Arden said. "I assume the proximity of the sea will aid my study."
"That it will," said Inga. She reached up and patted his shoulder. "I'm glad you joined us, Arden. I'm afraid we're going to rely on you overmuch."
He smiled down at her. "You're teaching me so much, it's the least I can do."
He departed the arena whistling through his teeth and found Thancred outside, waiting for him.
"There you are," said the young man, unfolding himself from the shadows of the arena gates. "I thought they'd never let you out of there."
"The new season of games is keeping us busy," said Arden. "Can we start for Vesper Bay tonight?"
"There's a night carriage to take us as far as Horizon," said Thancred. "We can ride from there to Vesper Bay in the morning. If we hurry, we should be able to catch the carriage before it leaves."
A little later, Arden found himself scrunched on the seat in another chocobo carriage, crammed in among a party of rowdy Miqo'te who were all headed for Horizon. Thancred seemed at home among them all, and challenged the cat-boys to a few rounds of Triple Triad. Soon the carriage was quiet, the only sound being the rasp of cards and the rumble of the wheels beneath them. Arden dozed, arms folded across his chest.
Unlike his last carriage ride, no Echo visions plagued him, and nothing attacked them. It was merely a long, slow ride into the night, the only lights being the carriage lamps. Eventually the other passengers dozed off, too, and it was quiet for several hours. He had time to notice that his side and arm no longer ached from the curse. It was a relief to feel normal again.
Arden awoke as the carriage driver hailed the watchmen at the Horizon gates. He and the others sat up and gathered their things as the carriage pulled into the town.
Horizon was a Brass Blades encampment to protect travelers journeying to and from the seaport. The guards inspected their luggage for contraband, asked each of them about their business, then sent them to the inn for the rest of the night. Arden and Thancred shared a room to keep costs down.
The next morning, they hired chocobos from the stables to ride the rest of the way to Vesper Bay. Arden had never ridden a chocobo before. He explained this softly to the big yellow bird. The chocobo took pity on him and explained how he was to sit and grip with his knees, similar to riding a horse.
Thancred sat astride his own chocobo, watching this. To him, it appeared that the chocobo was chirping to Arden, who nodded and responded as if he understood every word. As they set off together, Arden adjusting to how the bird moved, Thancred said, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were actually talking to that chocobo."
"I can understand animal speech," said Arden. "Side effects of the Echo, I think."
"Can you, now?" Thancred said. "I ought to take you to the bird races in Ul'dah. I could make a fortune with a few good bets."
"I doubt the birds would be able to predict winners," said Arden. "I watched a few races, and a win is as much the jockey's strategy as the bird's strength."
Thancred waved a hand to dismiss this. "I'll find a way to exploit your ability, never you fear."
Arden wasn't sure he wanted his ability exploited. But at that point both birds broke into a run, and it took all of his skill to stay in the saddle.
The desert here was broken by much scrub brush in shades of bright green, and cacti crowned with yellow and pink flowers. Arden had never seen springtime in the desert and had no idea that cactus bloomed. Had he not been riding a speeding chocobo, he would have walked out for a look.
Vesper Bay was a mile further on. Arden smelled the sea before he saw it, a particular fresh, seaweed smell. Then they met a caravan coming from the port laden with goods, so they had to leave the road and run alongside it. The birds slowed to a walk to breathe, and Arden found that he was breathing hard, himself.
"Big town out here," Thancred said over his shoulder. "Lots of people. Whole place is financed by Lolorito, Syndicate chairman. All the taxes and tariffs on incoming goods flow into his pockets. Still won't build an aetheryte out here, though."
Arden nodded as if this meant anything to him. He was more interested in the gates that stood open, the guards in rich blue uniforms, and the many townsfolk already going about their business. Two ships were unloading in the harbor, and several more rode at anchor, their masts and rigging creating a tangled forest beyond the town buildings.
They took their chocobos to the stables and dropped them off. Then Thancred led Arden through the town to a small brick building on the waterfront. They stepped into the front room, which was a small office with a Lalafel woman working at a desk. She looked up from a stack of papers she was filling out. "Hello, Thancred, nice to see you. Who's your friend?" She gazed up at the towering Au Ra as if she saw his kind every day.
"Tataru, this is Arden Ardakim," said Thancred. "He got involved with fighting Ascians and Minfilia adopted him."
"Oh, in that case," Tataru said, standing up in her chair. She held out a hand to Arden. He shook it gravely, only able to take hold of her tiny hand with a finger and thumb.
"Welcome to the Waking Sands, Arden!" Tataru said. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"Breakfast?" said Thancred. "We came straight from Horizon."
"Oh, you and your food," Tataru said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, there's probably something downstairs. I saw Urianger take a box of pastries down there half an hour ago."
"Half an hour!" Thancred exclaimed. "They'll be gone by now!" He raced down the stairs at the back of the room.
Arden bowed to Tataru. "It was a pleasure to meet you, madam."
Tataru giggled. "A pleasure to meet you, too! I wish everyone Thancred dragged in here was so polite."
Arden grinned and made his way down the stairs.
Most of the Waking Sands was built below ground level, with multiple rooms and offices. Despite the early morning hour, many people moved about on business or stood in groups, talking. Everyone paused to stare at Arden. He straightened and walked with a bit of a swagger, trying to hide the shyness that rose in him. Why did everyone have to stare so? Surely Au Ra were not as uncommon as all that?
He arrived in a large room stacked with crates of goods, with tables and chairs set up at the far end. One of these tables had a collection of food and drink spread on it, and Thancred was busily loading a plate with pastries and sausages.
"How is payment gathered?" Arden asked the nearest person, a tall Elezen in a hood and cloak.
"Partake as thou wish," said the man, gesturing at the table. "Such repast is provided through the coffers of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn."
"Thank you," said Arden, and helped himself.
As he stood there munching a pastry in contentment, Minfilia walked in. Her butter yellow hair was braided and pinned back, and she moved with purpose. "Thancred! Arden! So good to see you here!" She shook Arden's hand with a smile, then turned to Thancred. "Have you anything to report?"
Thancred nodded and held up a finger. He'd crammed his mouth so full that he couldn't speak, and hastily poured himself a hot cup of tea from a nearby pot.
As they waited, Minfilia turned to Arden. "How is your wound? When we didn't see you immediately, I worried."
"Cured, I think," said Arden. "The healers I work with purified it with a water spell."
"Oh, probably Esuna," said Minfilia, beaming. "If you could learn that, you'd be even more valuable. We always have people walking in here with this or that curse on them. It works quite well on sicknesses, too."
Arden listened and nodded. He intended to study the technique as soon as he had a free moment. He motioned to the table. "Breakfast?"
"No thank you, already had mine," said Minfilia. "Thancred?"
"Let's go to your office," said Thancred. "Lots of worrisome news."
"Make yourself at home, Arden," said Minfilia, and walked off with Thancred.
Arden helped himself to another pastry and looked around him. The Elezen man had retreated to another table where he was bent over an open book. Other people worked unpacking crates and carrying goods here and there.
A young man in gladiator's leathers approached the table and collected a plate of food. "Good morning," he said, glancing at Arden. "Are you one of our new healers?"
"I'm working at the arena in Ul'dah," said Arden. "Not certain about the Scions of the Seventh Dawn yet."
"Do you have the Echo?" said the young man. He was another Highlander Hyur, probably from Ala Mhigo, judging by his height and the breadth of his limbs. His untidy hair fell into his eyes, and the remains of warrior paint speckled his cheekbones. A recent player in the games, then.
"Yes, I do," said Arden. "Do you?"
"As a matter of fact," said the man, grinning. He held out a hand. "Arenvald at your service."
"Arden Ardakim at yours," said Arden. "Especially since you seem active in the arena."
Arenvald laughed. "All of us gladiators are familiar with the healer's ward. It's a living, but I'd rather be working with the Scions. Saving the world is so much more fulfilling than bloodsport."
"I believe that's why I'm here," said Arden. "The man in black near Gridania tried to kill me."
"An Ascian?" said Arenvald. "I wonder why? They don't attack people at random. Only certain targets. You must be important somehow."
"Only a fool at the wrong place at the wrong time," said Arden, taking a bite of pastry.
Arenvald gestured with a bit of sausage. "They don't care for me, either. I grew up on the streets of Ala Mhigo. My mum didn't care for me, see. My father was a Garlean soldier who harmed her. She couldn't bear the sight of me, always dreaded the third eye on my forehead. But the Echo kept me alive, kept me fighting. When I became a man, I came here to earn a living in the arena, and Minfilia found me. The Scions have been my family ever since. But the Ascians, now. They despise all of us."
Arden listened to this with pity in his heart. This cheerful fellow obviously wasn't looking for pity. His life was what it was, and it couldn't be changed. But Arenvald had made the best of it. Seeing him chatting about Ascians and the Scions with a smile on his face warmed Arden's heart toward Minfilia. She seemed to collect the misfits, the outcasts, the oddballs that didn't fit in. Perhaps Arden did want to be a part of this organization.
He finished his breakfast, mostly listening to Arenvald talking about various fights he'd had in the arena and how he was doing in the rankings. Then a newcomer entered the room: a Miqo'te woman in a white Conjurer's tunic. She glanced around the room, spotted Arenvald, and strode toward him. "Arenvald? You're wanted." She jerked her head at Arden. "You too. In the office." She also beckoned to the tall Elezen in the hood and robe, who abandoned his book.
"Nice to see you, too, Y'shtola," said Arenvald with a laugh. "You realize poor Arden doesn't know anyone here?"
"He knows Minfilia and Thancred," said Y'shtola over her shoulder, already headed back the way she had come. Her hair and furry tail were the same shade of white, Arden noticed. While he had seen a lot of cute, giggling catgirls, Y'shtola was too matter of fact to be remotely attractive. Arden tried to walk firmly and keep his head high so no one would see how intimidated he was.
She led them back down the hall to the main office at the end. Inside, Minfilia stood behind a large desk strewn with papers and maps. A shattered staff in a frame occupied the wall behind her. Thancred leaned against a pillar nearby, arms folded.
"Ah, there you are," Minfilia said, looking up with a smile. Once they were all inside with the door closed, Minfilia went on, "Everyone, I'd like you all to meet Arden Ardakim. He has the Echo."
Everyone murmured polite greetings.
"Arden, this is Urianger," she said, motioning to the tall Elezen. "He's our expert on research and lore."
Urianger bowed. "Such tasks be the least I can do to aid the Scions in their worthy endeavors."
Minfilia turned to the Miqo'te. "This is Y'shtola, our field specialist for the island of Vylbrand and Limsa Lominsa."
"Charmed," said Y'shtola, folding her arms as if bored.
"Arenvald is our Warrior of Light," said Minfilia with a smile. "Or so we call him."
"You flatter me," Arenvald said, his cheeks and ears flushing red. "Arden has the Echo, too."
"Yes, and that will be important in a moment," said Minfilia. She faced the group, her smile vanishing. "Thancred has told me about the alarming number of kidnappings recently around Camp Drybone. There's some large refugee towns there who have sent to the Brass Blades for help. But as you know, Ul'dah doesn't care to waste resources on those who cannot pay."
"Do we know who's responsible?" said Arenvald, pushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes for the first time. Arden observed that the young Hyur did not have the third Garlean eye, only an ugly pink scar.
Minfilia turned to Thancred. Thancred stepped forward, drawing all eyes. "Nothing but rumors and speculation," he said. "I've been up and down Camp Drybone, but found nothing. Meanwhile, I've had eyes on the Amaljaa, and they're stockpiling crystals for a summoning."
"While the kidnappings are probably connected to the Amaljaa, we have no proof," said Minfilia. "Whoever is responsible is working with the beast tribe, but we don't know who it is or how they're doing it."
"Yes, so I'm asking for help," said Thancred. "I need a few more bodies out there talking to people and watching things."
"I'll do it," said Arenvald at once. "I'm Ala Mhigan, like the refugees are. They'll talk to me, especially if I wear my armor." He tapped his head. "Might even get a glimpse of their memories."
"I hoped you'd volunteer," said Thancred with a grin.
Minfilia turned to Arden. "Since you're a healer, I had hoped to ask if you would visit the chapel near Drybone. The local healers work out of there, and they see everything. Lend them a hand and learn what you can."
Arden bowed. "I'll do what I can."
"Excellent!" said Arenvald, smacking a fist into a palm. "Let's rent chocobos and head out there. Drybone's not far from here if we take the back roads."
"Remember," Minfilia said, "do not let anyone know you are with the Scions. Refer to us as the wild roses. We have friends who will know us by that name."
Everyone scattered, and Arden went with them, pretending he knew exactly what he was doing.
The Church of Saint Adama Landama perched atop a hill among the mountains that ringed Eastern Thanalan. Surrounding it were acres of graves–graves with expensive cut headstones, graves with crude wooden markers, graves whose only mark was a sunken hollow in the earth.
"Many of those who perished in the Calamity five years ago are interred here," said Father Iliud. He was a slight, aging Hyur with carefully combed gray hair and beard. His simple priest robe had large pockets full of tools, and he had been helping build a coffin when Arden arrived.
"Many people of my tribe died in the Calamity," Arden said, watching the brown grass bend in shining ripples across the graves. "It's one thing that drove me to become a healer."
"A noble goal," said the priest, peering through his glasses at Arden. "Why have you come? I sense you have questions."
"Many refugees have gone missing lately," Arden said. "I am working with a … a group who wish to assist them."
"Ah yes, the wild roses," said Father Iliud with a smile. "They are good people. Have they any leads?"
"That's what I'm here to discover," said Arden. "Have you noticed anyone acting strangely or moving about at odd hours?"
Father Iliud sighed. "My son, this is a chapel on the outskirts of Thanalan. Every day I see more strange behavior and humanity in need than I can even comprehend." He gestured to another man in a priests robe digging a grave halfway down the hill. "Take Marques. I found him after the Calamity, wandering the hills with no memory of how he got there. His head was so badly cracked, I feared he might die. Even now, years later, he's still not right and can't remember what happened to him. If he's kidnapping people, he wouldn't know."
"Should I suspect him?" Arden asked doubtfully.
"Not he," said Father Iliud. "But feel free to ask everyone here if they've seen anything suspicious."
Arden lingered there a few more minutes, strangely reluctant to leave. The priest carried with him such an atmosphere of peace that Arden wanted to share it for just a little longer.
"Do you serve Hydaelyn?" he asked.
Father Iliud smiled. "I serve the Twelve. But Hydaelyn is known to me. Had I not already taken my vows to the clergy, I believe I would serve her."
"I am a man of Azim, but Hydaelyn has spoken to me," said Arden. "She is a goddess of the Light in conflict with Darkness, yes?"
"Hydaelyn and Zodiark are locked in duality," said Father Iliud. "They must forever remain in balance with one another because of the elements they represent. Yet how do we judge which of them is good and which is evil? There must be a higher standard, greater than they, and higher, and further back, which remains branded into our souls. Else we would blindly follow which of them was stronger."
"The Twelve?" said Arden.
The priest smiled. "Some would say yes. Some would say there is one mightier than even they. But I tread upon heretical ground for a priest of the Twelve. If Hydaelyn has chosen you, you could do worse than to walk in the Light at her side. Be thankful it was not Zodiark whispering in your ear."
Arden thought about this, uncomfortable with the ideas the priest held, but unwilling to leave his presence just the same. As they stood there, two figures came into sight, toiling up the hill and pulling a handcart piled with bodies.
"Oh dear," said Father Iliud, shading his eyes. "I wonder what happened?"
Arden recognized Arenvald and Thancred pulling the cart. He left the priest and bounded down the hill. "My friends! Are you all right?"
"Amaljaa ambushed a convoy," Thancred panted, looking up. "Stole the cargo. Crystals, surprise surprise."
"We arrived far too late," panted Arenvald. "Give us a hand, this cart is heavy."
Arden pushed the cart from behind, taking the opportunity to look at the bodies. Four men, all midlander Hyur and not as brawny as their Highlander cousins. Their clothing was rough leather and linen, much stained with the life blood that had flowed from their wounds. Already the pitiless flies had gathered. He pressed a hand to each corpse, but they had been dead too long for a resurrection, the spirits long since departed.
"Do we know who they are?" he asked his companions. "Their families should be notified."
"The church will go through their personal effects and contact the next of kin," said Thancred. "Dreary work, but that's their job."
Father Iliud surveyed the bodies with a sigh. "Help me lay them out on the ground, here. Then would you boys mind digging a few graves?"
"We'll help in any way we can," said Arden.
Digging graves in the rocky soil would have taken all afternoon, but Arden used his earth magic to peel the ground open. They straightened up the corners with their shovels and were finished.
As they worked, Thancred said, "I've been talking to the town overseer down in Drybone. He gave me a few leads. There's a woman who works at the church up here named Sister Ourcen. She's always traveling about between the refugee camps and spends a lot of time up at the Golden Bazaar. She might be the one luring people away."
The idea of a woman of the church preying on the people she served was repugnant to Arden. He hoped this rumor wasn't true, and if it was, he would see justice done. But it sickened him just the same.
"I will not strike a woman," he said quietly to his companions. "Capture her and bind her, maybe, but I cannot fight her."
"Why not?" Thancred said. "I've seen plenty of women fighters and cutpurses."
"I'm at least twice as tall as most women of most races," said Arden, gesturing to himself. "It wouldn't be a fair contest."
"I have no such compunction," said Thancred cheerfully. "I'm also half your size, so the girls are just right for me." He winked.
Arden tried to find this funny, but he was too nauseated by the prospect of a woman selling innocents to the beastmen to do more than smile a little.
"Bad taste, man," said Arenvald, slapping Thancred across the back of the head. "This Sister Ourcen is a suspect, not a date. Let's get those poor folks buried and go look for her."
They buried the four men, assisted by a younger priest. Father Iliud had gone inside the chapel to sort through the men's effects and compose letters to their next of kin. Arden did not envy him.
Afterwards they washed thoroughly at the water pump behind the church, then set out for the Golden Bazaar.
Despite its lavish name, the Golden Bazaar turned out to be a ghost town of once-prosperous buildings now falling to slow ruin. Once a major waypoint for merchants traveling between Ul'dah and Gridania, the trade routes changed, leaving the town to fade into the dust. It was inhabited mainly by refugees, their refuse scattered everywhere. It was all Arden could smell as they arrived.
Several unwashed children with shaggy hair stared at them as they arrived. Thancred pulled out a five-gil piece and held it up, smiling. The children inched forward, their eyes fixed on that coin.
"I just wanted to ask a few questions," Thancred said. "Whoever answers the most gets five gil."
The children nodded.
"We're trying to find out who is behind the kidnappings lately," said Thancred. "Has anybody gone missing in the past few weeks?"
The children nodded. One said, "A couple of the men went off to the hills to try mining. We never see them again. But Sister Ourcen say there nobody at their camp. She try to take them food."
"Sister Ourcen, huh?" said Thancred. "What's she do around here?"
One child held up a bandaged hand. "I cut myself and she fixed it up."
"She takes care of us and brings us food and clothes," said another. "She tells us the most wonderful stories."
"Where is she now?" said Thancred. "She wasn't at the church."
"I lost my toy in the desert," said a small boy with tear tracks on his dusty cheeks. "Mama gave it to me before she died. Sister Ourcen said she'd find it."
Thancred pulled out more gil and handed coins to each of the children. "Thanks so much, all of you. We'd better look for her, it isn't safe out here. Which way did she go?"
The children pointed. Thancred marched off into the desert, Arden and Arenvald following.
Once they were out of sight of the village, Thancred said, "Gods! Those poor people."
"I doubt Sister Ourcen is our target," said Arden.
"There's every chance she's been kidnapped, too," said Arenvald.
"Ugh, don't remind me," said Thancred. "Shut up a minute." He knelt and studied the ground, then listened for a long moment. As he did, a woman's distant cry of distress reached their ears.
"There," said Arden, and all three of them broke into a run.
They came upon a woman perched high on a boulder, clinging to it with both hands. Around the boulder circled three jackals, their coats the dusty grey and brown of the desert. They leaped to snap at the woman, trying to drag her off the rock, but she avoided them and cried out.
Arden drew his sword. Arenvald did the same, while Thancred pulled out a pair of knives. All three of them ran at the jackals. The animals must have been starving, because they turned to attack the men, too, white teeth flashing. Arden killed the first animal with a slash through the neck. Arenvald and Thancred dispatched their opponents before Arden could move to assist them. It seemed that his companions were adept at killing, and Arden was glad.
Once the jackals were dead, the three turned to the women on the rock.
"Sister Ourcen, I presume," said Thancred, bowing.
"Yes, who are you?" the woman said, gazing at them fearfully.
"We are but the wild roses, ma'am," said Arden. As the tallest one there, he was on eye level with the woman on her rock. He offered her a hand and helped her to the ground.
"I was hunting for Tommy's toy soldier," she said, opening her hand and displaying a wooden toy. "But those jackals found me and chased me up there."
"We'll walk you back to town," said Thancred. "We're here to investigate the recent disappearances."
"Oh it's been terrible," said Sister Ourcen, making her way through the brush and rocks without hesitation. "Can't trust strangers, people walking off and vanishing. That man who goes around passing out invitations is the worst. He sells a little hope, draws in the suffering, and they're never heard from again."
"Oh really?" said Thancred, giving his companions a raised eyebrow. "Where is this man?"
"He comes around the camps every few weeks," said the woman. "I don't know who he is, always keeps his hood up. I've warned the children to have nothing to do with him."
Arden, Thancred, and Arenvald exchanged excited glances. It was the first lead they'd had so far.
"How do we find this person?" Thancred asked.
Sister Ourcen shook her head. "There's no telling when he'll turn up. He hangs around the camps, always goes for the poorest folk. He wouldn't go near you lot, no offense. You look too prosperous."
"Well then," said Thancred as they escorted her into the Golden Bazaar, "we'll have to find a way to look less prosperous."
They watched the ragged children run to the woman and throw their arms around her, and the little boy grab his toy soldier and hug it tightly.
"I'm glad she wasn't the one we were hunting," Arden said quietly. "These people need someone like her."
"I was thinking the same thing," Arenvald murmured. "I wish someone had been that kind to me growing up."
Thancred turned to them. "Let's go back to Drybone. I have an idea."