Seeker (The Source Chronicles Book 1) by MJ Blehart

encountered, but not treat them harshly, unless they met resistance.
    The people knew better than to test the will of their King.  No one wanted to be detained and questioned.  For the first time in memory, Gara-Sharron was silent and still.  The people knew their leader, and met his edict without question, comment or complaint.   
    No one would leave their homes, go for a drink at the local pubs, open their businesses, return to their jobs, enter or leave the city, until His Majesty granted leave to do so.
    *****
    The sub-basement beneath the merchant’s shop was an ancient storehouse, underneath the foundations of the current building.  The room was lit by a single oil lamp, atop the table at its center.  It was an unpleasant place, being fairly cold and dusty, but dry.  The stench of long dead rodents, soil, and mothballs permeated the space.  Every now and then the squeak of a mouse or rat could be heard. 
    Lyrra-Sharron sat at the small table.  Cold stew, dried meats and slightly stale bread had been left for them.  The Sorcerer lay upon a pallet, with Dak Amviir in a chair beside him.  Even after being here several hours, the Sorcerer had not spoken.
    They had abandoned the horses, discovering the gates already sealed.  So they went to their fall-back plan.  Dak led them to the shop of the other merchant, Max, where he waited for any trapped within the city.  The merchant was surprised they had not escaped, but they were taken in.  Now all waited.  The tension, Lyrra-Sharron could not help but notice, was so palpable that it nearly had a flavor to it.
    The stone panel doorway creaking open broke the near-silence.  Lyrra-Sharron drew a knife, readied to throw it, but quickly relaxed her tensed muscles when she saw it was only Nyra, the wife of Max.  The woman carried a small bowl, a knife, a candle, and bandages.
    “I’m sorry it took so long.  My neighbor, she’s a healer.  I had to convince her I only needed the supplies, not her services.  It’s fortunate for you I was not caught outside.  ‘Tis also fortunate Max is often clumsy, so she be used to my need of her tools.”
    Lyrra-Sharron swallowed her annoyance from being startled at Nyra Parcall’s abrupt entry, and nodded her head in gratitude as Dak took the supplies from the woman.  “Thank you.  Your help in this matter is very much appreciated.”
    Nyra gestured to the supplies.  “I’ll return for those later.  They’ve not yet begun to search houses, but it will happen, eventually.  I must seal the stairway till morning.  You have enough blankets and food?”
    Lyrra-Sharron arose.  “Aye.  Thank you, Nyra.  I hope we shall not need to inconvenience you long.”
    Nyra gave a sad curtsy, then turned to leave, closing the stone door behind her.
    Dak looked to Lyrra-Sharron.  “You realize, if they decide the bounty on our heads is more valuable than our ideals, we’re well and truly caught?”
    She eyed him warily.  “Max is your contact.  You said he could be trusted.”
    Dak bobbed his head down once at her answer.  “Good.  At least you’re thinking straight.  We should have gone for the aqueduct.”
    She shook her head.  “With his wound, minor though it may be, we would have been slowed down too much.”  Lyrra-Sharron turned and walked over to the Sorcerer.  She had left him to Dak once they abandoned the horses, and this was the first time she was this close to him in hours.  “Will you speak to me, Sorcerer?  Or are you a mute?”
    He had been lying on his side, favoring the swollen thigh with the arrowhead and bit of shaft that remained imbedded in it.  He rolled over onto his back, and turned his head to look at Lyrra-Sharron.  “I only speak if I have something to say.”
    His voice was a bit hoarse, from disuse.  It was not harsh or disagreeable.  “Who are you?” he continued.
    She sat beside him upon the cot.  “My name is Lyrra-Sharron.  This is Dak.  We are a part of a group