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next few days. Because if he was looking for her, he knew where she lived. Brenna didn’t like that thought at all.

  She’d always felt safe enough in her rooms. Once in the shop, you had to pass Mistress Dudding in order to reach the back stairs that led up to her rooms. The third step from the top creaked and she’d added a solid lock to the door at the top. She’d lived here for more than two years. Mistress Dudding had been a patient - Brenna had made a salve for the seamstress’s arthritic hands. On her second visit she’d been offered the rooms over the shop.

  They were small and plain – the chair she sat in was only a few steps across from the door and close enough to the window that she could peek out from behind the thick white curtain. A large table – strewn with books, scrolls and old parchments - was squeezed in beside the window and the fireplace, a simple hearth that also fed the heat from the kitchen below through the room. Along the back of the table, up against the wall, she’d filled some old wooden crates with her tools - mortar and pestle, dried herbs and leaves, bottles of viscous liquids - as well as a small pack that held her lock picking tools.

  A separate sleeping chamber was accessed through the small wooden door opposite the fireplace. A tiny room with a sloped ceiling, it had a single window that was just big enough for her to squeeze through, as she’d proved when planning an escape route.

  Brenna pulled the curtain aside and looked out onto the street again. The man was gone - perhaps he really had been having a simple glass of wine? She grabbed her cloak off the wooden peg by the door and pulled it around her shoulders, locked her door and headed down the stairs. After a quick greeting to Mistress Dudding, she went out and headed for the local fruit stand.

  “Hello Pater, what’s the best eating today?”

  Pater the fruit seller had been a fixture on this street of the Quarter for as long as Brenna had been around. A grizzled man with silvery gray hair and beard, his smile was contagious despite some missing teeth.

  “For my best customer I’d suggest a sweet peach, the first of the season from the southern lands in Aruntun.” Pater said. Then he stopped.

  Brenna looked up to find him staring at her oddly.

  “What’s wrong?” Brenna looked around. Maybe the man from the wine sellers was still around?

  “Nothin’ lass,” Pater said and shook his head. “Nothin’ at all. Here, this is for you.” He picked up a plump peach and handed it to her. She fished in her purse for a coin.

  “No.” The old man smiled at her and seemed to relax, finally. “You keep your money today. That poultice you gave me for my sister’s youngest sure enough did the trick and the lad’s up and back at work these past two days already. My sister thought for sure he’d need to be off that foot for another seven days.”

  “If you’re sure? You paid me for the poultice already.”

  “I’m sure. Wouldn’t have no peaches if the boy weren’t back at work. He’s the one who dealt with the Aruntian traders. Besides, that tea you brought me last week helped ward off the chill.” Pater smiled as Brenna put her purse securely under her vest. “Where’re you off to lass?”

  “Just going over to the collegium. I came across a new plant that’s supposed to be good for reducing fevers and I want to check for any other properties it might have.” Bren took a bite of the peach and smiled at the sweetness of it.

  “Well I guess that’s why ye be the best healer in town.” Pater shook his head. “Ye’re always off to the library finding things out.”

  With a final wave Brenna headed down the street. She grinned - Pater didn’t know the half of it. It was amazing what she could find out in the library, especially with help from her friend Randell. He knew where everything was and tended not to notice when she asked for unusual things - such as the original building plans for inns and fine houses - very useful information for a thief. Brenna certainly did a lot of research on plants but she often wondered why Randell never questioned her choice of research materials. But then he was one of those frightfully scholarly people, always with his head between the pages of a book or his nose to a scroll. Who knew what kinds of things he was interested in? His list of reading materials probably made Brenna’s seem innocent. She finished the peach and licked the sticky juice off her fingers as she made her way towards the center of town and the collegium library.

  “The Brotherhood of the Throne.” Randell’s brown eyes got that far away look that meant he’d come across that subject before. “Now where would that be? Ah, of course!” Randell headed out of the room where he’d been reading from a stack of dusty books piled high on a long wooden desk.

  Brenna grabbed a lamp and followed the small man through a maze of laden bookcases. She’d long ago given up trying to understand the organization of the books. Randell had explained it to her more than once and she was more than capable of figuring her way around the books about plants and healing and such, but the rest of the library was an incomprehensible jumble of books, charts and hand written tomes.

  Randell slowed down a little and Brenna caught up to him. He was a small, wiry man who was past his middle age, but he could still move quickly when he wanted to.

  “Brenna, pull that light a little closer please.”

  She held the lamp up high enough to illuminate the upper-most shelf of books. From the layer of dust all around, Brenna figured they were in one of the least used areas of the library.

  “What is this section?” She pulled out a book and tried to read the inscription of the cover, but the lettering was too faint to read so she put the book back on the shelf.

  “It’s not really a section, yet.” Randell gave her a sheepish look. “I need to get it sorted out but every time I try to start in here I end up taking a book away with me and reading it cover to cover. It’s where we keep all the oldest books. Many of these are from the earliest days of the Kingdom of Soule and have accounts of the first kings as well as the old gods. There was one book that contained the story of King Wolde. I think that’s where the Brotherhood was mentioned. Ah, here it is.” Randell reverently brushed the dust off the book cover and lifted it from the shelf. With Brenna still following him he stepped over to a nearby table and laid the book out. He scanned the pages as he leafed through the book.

  “Yes, this is it.” Randell let his finger hover over the text as Brenna leaned over the book to decipher the ornate, hand written passage.

  “And as King Wolde came unto his dotage he became ever fearful that his line would weaken and so plunge Soule once again into the chaos of war and conflict from which he’d raised it.” Brenna paused and leaned closer to the book.

  “It is said that his daughter Aruntun had Seen this herself, and asked her father to protect the land. And so was the Brotherhood of the Throne formed. Those closest to the King they were, noble and peasant alike - Swordsman and cook, farmer and advisor - all swore that they and their descendants would stand watch over Wolde’s bloodline. And Aruntun had another true vision that she recorded thus. “When the blood of Wolde is weakened and the line of kings is broken, one will come who reunites Wolde’s blood.” The Brotherhood of the Throne awaits the one foretold by this prophecy, who will Call in their time of need, ” she continued. “And none but the Brotherhood and the true line of Wolde know the Call.” Brenna finished reading. Was this Call the simple verse her mother had taught her?

  “So who would have the blood of Wolde?” she asked Randell.

  “Wolde’s eldest son Tustain became king after him and his other three children, Comack, Aruntun and Fallad, he created the duchies for, so it would be the ruling families of the three duchies and the king.”

  Brenna shivered - she had two of the four bloodlines.

  The prophecy echoing in her head, Brenna waited while Randell looked for more passages about the Brotherhood. Soon enough he’d exhausted all his likely searches, so before he started looking in the unlikely places - which from experience she knew could take days - she thanked him and headed out of th
e library.

  She had left the Collegium behind and was deep into the adjacent streets before she noticed that she was being followed. A man was shadowing her, taking each turn she did and she cursed herself for her carelessness. It was full dark and she was in an area of town she was not completely familiar with - her inattention had put her in danger.

  Brenna fought the urge to run. Instead she walked slowly and kept her actions as predictable as possible. In this unfamiliar part of town it would be easy for her pursuer to trap her in a dead end. But she had to lose him as soon as possible.

  At the third intersecting street she ducked around the corner and with light feet, ran to an alley half a block down. Her breath rasped loudly in the silence of the night as she looked down the alley. A dead end, but it was empty. Brenna edged into the alley and dropped to the ground. She ignored the over-ripe scents of moldy food and instead concentrated on calming her breath as she lay in the muck.

  She eased her body forward until she could see around the corner. In the middle of the street she’d just left, a man walked quickly, his head moving from side to side as he scanned the shadowed doorways of the buildings that lined the street.

  No doubt he’d come into her alley. She’d need to hide, and quickly. She rose to a crouch and