Legend of the Ravenstone by M.S. Verish Page B

of him. “Whitestar is a cantalere. Wizards and witches—medori—tend to use such devices. I find myself wondering about the Prophet and his unfortunate thieves. Is he, perhaps, a wizard manipulating the setting to provide a convincing distraction? His so-called ‘demon,’ could have been an illusion placed upon an ordinary man—an effective scare tactic for unwary travelers.”
    “I do not think the Demon was an illusion,” Kariayla said. “I...I saw its eyes. And I felt its magic. It wasn’t Human, Arcturus.”
    “Magical trickery can be quite convincing,” Arcturus said. “Given my collision with the creature in question, I can tell you that there was no great might or presence to it. Had I been more alert to the situation, I have no doubt that I could have detained it myself and saved the duke’s men their efforts.”
    Kariayla fell silent. At last she said, “I do not have might or presence either, but I can still summon a storm.”
    The Markanturian smiled. “A valid point—one I cannot argue. Yet I cannot believe that our demon was quite the monster he was reputed to be. I suppose it should matter little now.”
    “What about the duke?” Kariayla asked. “Do you think the Demon murdered him? And how did it get past his guards? They almost seemed to be expecting the attack.”
    Arcturus raised an eyebrow. “Expecting or anticipating? To expect is to place confidence in what one knows will occur. To anticipate is to make an educated guess at a likely outcome. I believe Duke Dinorthon, based on rumors and stories, anticipated an attack. He attempted to protect himself accordingly, but somehow his defenses failed him. I cannot say as to how this happened, but the result is clear. I have no doubt that the ‘demon’ was responsible for his murder—especially if said demon did possess some sort of illusionary magic. It is a tragic loss indeed.”
    “Why would the thieves want anyone dead? Aren’t they only thieves?”
    Arcturus shook his head. “Ah, but thieves and murderers arise from the same ill-intentioned members of society. In my mind, their morality is compromised, and I see little difference between the two. Both are criminals and deserve fitting punishment. Unfortunately, the common folk like you and like me tend to be the victims of such deviants. I have no sympathy for those who choose a wrongful path.”
    Kariayla was troubled by his words. Anyone but a criminal would agree with him.
    They walked on through the dreary morning, and even as rain turned to drizzle, they kept their hoods up and their heads down. She avoided the puddles while Arcturus plodded right through them. The occasional mounted traveler would pass them by, and Kariayla would see the Markanturian lift his head and watch the retreating cavalier with envy. Eventually his steps grew labored, and his staff came to serve him as a third leg. His stomach started a new conversation—one of protest and complaint. Arcturus said nothing of it, however, and at last Kariayla decided to stop.
    “I’m feeling a little hungry,” she said. “Do you think we might rest?”
    Arcturus nodded, relief upon his face. “As it suits you, my dear.” They moved off the road and ventured a short way into a stony field. Each found a proper rock for sitting, and Arcturus cast down his hood. “I do believe the rain has stopped.”
    Kariayla looked skyward. “And the white hawk has followed us.”
    “Hmph.” He dug in his bag for some bread and cheese. “I will accept it as a good omen only after it delivers us to a friendly village with adequate food and shelter.” He handed Kariayla his costrel. “This will take the chill from you.”
    She accepted the offering and watched him carefully withdraw the map. He studied it for a moment before presenting it to her. “According to this fine work, we should reach a village before the day is through. ‘Fieldston.’ A creative name.”
    Kariayla nibbled on her cheese. “I was thinking about