A Matter of Trust

A Matter of Trust

"Please," said Geordo, the self-proclaimed merchant that had hired them to recover both his niece and some "items," including a magical ring. "I don't trust them, I must get her back."

"What does that mean?" said Skrie puffing out her chest and standing to her full two feet, nine inches. She stood to the man's thigh, though at that moment, she could have been at least as tall as the half-orc. "I thought the ring was your thing. Or was that another of your lies?"

"No," he said, plopping on a stool near the fire. "Aquila is my brother's daughter." The old man stared at his hands and thought for a long time, shoulders sagging. "I am a relic hunter," he began, "I have been hunting knowledge of the past for decades. But I'm an old man, and I can no longer crawl around ruins. Aquila, is, well, young and, ah ... naive. I agreed to train her if she would travel with me and identify some of the relics we, or rather, you, find."

"Yer point?" asked Malusk, eyes narrowing.

"All was going well until Illeryl saw the ring and convinced Aquila to wear it. That's when the trouble began. The half-elf convinced her to take not just the ring, but anything else she could. That ring has ... magic associated with it. We must get her back. She is in danger from Illeryl and Grubak as well as the ring."

Skrie looked sideways at Malusk and Theren. She knew it had magic; she wasn't pleased that he hesitated to call the jewelry what it was. On the other hand, this information put a different spin on the ring in her belt pouch. They would have to discuss trust when they returned Aquila.



Next: "Tracking the Trackers"