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Cold Trails
Having delivered the guests to the Abbes, Malda was free to continue with her own tasks. She had always enjoyed her studies and was at all times eager to invest some extra efforts in order to deepen her knowledge. In an ordinary school she undoubtedly would be considered a swotter, but here on the grounds of the Order things were quite different. Her favourite subject was herbology and albeit her young age, she had a broad base of knowledge which often led adult members of the Order to seek her advise. Caldatha Mas had even hinted that she would be appointed to the dispensary some time in the near future, the present druggist being close to retirement. It was custom within the Order that assignments were lifelong, but being voluntary the members were always free to resign and change fields. In the case of the druggist, the upcoming resignation was due to bodily shortcomings with her eyesight degrading rapidly. Malda had intensified her studies in the attempt to delay the process, she adored the old woman who had been the main source of her knowledge, always an open ear, always counselling on her experiments, but so far the labours hadn’t been rewarded.
For the afternoon she had made plans to visit the bank in the east where she suspected a rare specimen of a plant, the main ingredient of an ointment she had decided to mix and experiment with. Already she could hear the rushing water as she headed towards the basin, carved into the hard rock by the falling waters from the cascades, when she came to a momentary halt, taking in the beauties of nature. It was a rather chilly late autumn afternoon, soon the sun would descend behind the mountains, the last rays of light submerging the splashes of water in millions of colours. She’d have to hurry, a search without light was fruitless.
The phenomenal sight however kept her rooted for another moment when she caught sight of a body flying through the air. Realization replaced shock and Malda sprinted.

On his second search round, Thealdi focused on the cart and the boy with the broken nose. Scanning one of the many dark alleys, he caught sight of a cart, similar in make as the shop owner had described. Rushing towards it, his initial disappointment upon discovering the cart empty was followed by the conclusion that the boy must have survived the stabbings. They would have just left their victim in the cart, had they indeed inflicted mortal wounds, he mused. But it seemed possible that they had taken the injured boy with them, for whatever reason. On the other hand, if they had just left and he was still capable, the boy might be on his way to the Brigshack undoubtedly in need of immediate treatment. Thealdi decided to head back to the store where hopefully the search party was already waiting for him.
In fact, he was greeted by worried faces, eagerly awaiting him in front of the store. The head librarian was in vivid conversation with Turglind when Thealdi approached them, whereas Master Mot just stood by, almost indifferent. Quickly the old man filled the others in and shortly after they split, Thealdi heading towards the Brigshack, the others spreading out, looking for the boy with the broken nose.
Miglim spotted them first. Emerging from one of the shabby buildings, they gathered in a loose circle, the one in the centre holding something that apparently was the basis for their animated exchange. He gave the signal imitating an eagles screech, thus summoning the others. Totally absorbed in their quarrel, the group of youngsters was ignorant of the three people approaching them.
Khozo Mas decided to do the talking and addressed the boys:
“Greetings, young gentlemen. I was wondering whether you could help us with a little problem. We are looking for a boy” and getting a glimpse at the skean, she added “and apparently you have something in possession that belongs to someone...”
“None of yours. Bugger off!”, the boy in the centre interrupted. Everyone had turned to face the uninvited visitors. In an instant weapons were drawn, backing up the order. But before they knew what was happening, Khozo Mas, Turglind and Miglim were on them in blinding speed. Daggers flying in all directions, chins making painful contact with rapid fired fists and boots, the boys stood no chance and the number of broken noses was dramatically increased.
“Now give me that!”, Khozo Mas demanded. The boy holding the skean had been spared the treatments his comrades had received. While the two men held the gang members at bay, the two remaining combatants eyed each other, the boy clearly calculating his chances.
“Don’t even think about it”, the head librarian offered with a mild smile, but her insides were boiling. Picturing the state, her pupil might be in and facing the originator of the superfluous violence, it took all her energy to remain composed. He would have to answer before the court, that she would make sure of. But first she had to learn about the whereabouts of Lendear. Not waiting for a voluntary handover she snatched the skean from the surprised boy with such swiftness, that even Miglim gasped. Pointing the weapon at the boy, well aware that she didn’t have the powers to bring it to use, but also knowing that boy was ignorant of the fact, she said:
“Laddie, I’m running out of patience. You tell me straight away where the boy is or I swear you will regret it!”
“We didn’t do it! That crooked nose bugger killed him!”
Khozo Mas turned pale.
“What…?”, was all she could muster. Lendear was dead? Murdered by this bastard shop owner? She refused to accept it. Turglind, the boys he had kept in check forgotten, approached the pair and seizing the boy, he snapped:
“Dirty lying piece of monkey droppings, I’ll teach you”, shaking the boy hard, aiming a blow with his right fist he was stopped by a shout from behind.
“Wait!”, Miglim bellowed. “Hear him out.”
Reluctantly, Turglind lowered his arm, but wouldn’t let go of the boy. He was still resolved to inflict at least some pain and pinched the boy’s broken nose.
“You heard him, now give us the whole story and don’t you dare missing something out. Stay with the truth, boy.”
“Aw raah! Ouch! Pnease snop id!”, pleaded the boy, fresh blood gushing from the broken nose. He relayed what he knew, but insisted that they hadn’t touched the boy contrary to the shop owners report. Khozo Mas guessed that it was indeed the crooked nosed wretch that had lied to them and she ordered Turglind to let go of his victim. Pointing at him, she said:
“We will be taking you along”, and addressing the remaining members, she added:
“You boys now better make a move and you’re best advised never again to cross my path, because next time I won’t exercise such graciousness. Now shove off!”
They didn’t need a second invitation and within moments had split not giving a damn about the destiny of the boy who was left behind.
“Turglind, the skean has to be brought to safety. Please take it to the Brigshack and take that little bastard with you. I’m sure Thealdi wants to have a word with him before we hand him in. Miglim and I will stay and have a word with Mr. crooked nose.”
Turglind immediately agreed, grabbed the boys tonic and dragged him off after he had stored the skean within his robes.
Khozo Mas and Miglim headed back to the shop, where a sign propped against the window of the door announced it to be closed. With a loud bang the door flew open, this time the glass inlays didn’t survive and splintered glass showered the floor. Miglim hadn’t hesitated an instant dealing out a well aimed and mighty powerful kick, causing this havoc. They stormed into the shop to find it deserted. The owner had taken flight.

There was no way the poor soul could have survived such a fall, that Malda was sure of. Nevertheless she had to make sure and ignoring the icy temperatures of the water, she dived into the basin, approaching the floating body the with rapid strokes. It took great efforts to drag the limp stranger back to the bank, the wet clothes pulling strong, the icy water rendering her breathless, but she was determined not to give in. With a last desperate struggle she brought them back to the safe grounds of the bank and panting hard, she began to examine what turned out to be a young boy. No breath, no heartbeat, ghostly white the face, she was sure her worst fears had become true when suddenly the body was shaken by convulsions and the boy vomited a big gush of water, followed by a desperate intake of air. Coughing and gagging, Lendear came to, supported by the mighty relieved Malda.