The trilling of a forest bird woke Kaylan the following morning.  She felt rested even though she was slightly troubled by the Marshall family legacy that was now fresh on her mind.  She knew the majority of their history by heart because she had read their chronicles practically daily from the time Bruhndahl had first introduced her to the Fortress’ vast library.  She was merely a girl of five or six then but Bruhndahl, seeing her interest, fed her obsession by reading the histories to her and filling in some of the gaps with what additional limited information he had on other less notable Marshalls.  There were a few, however, that even he refused to discuss.  Kaylan was not easily deterred and was determined to find the truth – no matter the cost.   

Without the physical dagger, the Marshall insignia that is indicative of my office is now displayed - rather ostentatiously, might I add - on everything I own, wear or use.  The dragon dagger is embroidered on all my tunics, robes and weather cloaks.  My swords have it worked into their hilts and my saddle has it burned into the rear corner on both sides of the skirt. 

Announcing my presence in this manner makes it difficult to be inconspicuous.  Being conspicuous creates an interesting challenge to gather reliable information especially if your interviewee is more concerned about telling you what they think you want to hear, in order to keep their skin attached to their bones, than they are about telling you the truth.  I guess it’s a good thing I’m not part of the spy network, she thought dryly.  On the other hand, people do tend to move out of the Marshall’s path so I rarely have to worry about crowd control.  She shuddered involuntarily with the thought of a crowd pressing in on her. However, though the King’s law prohibits vendors to charge the Marshall for goods or services, I always pay for my lodging since innkeepers typically lose business on the nights I stay at their establishments.  It isn’t their fault I need a place to stay and no one else wants to sleep under the same roof where the Marshall is “sleeping.”  The common superstition is that one never knows when you might wake up in irons or on the underside of dirt. The thought made her sad and she allowed a sigh to escape before she realized it.  The trilling she’d heard when she first woke continued somewhere off in the forest bringing her back to the present situation.

Focus, Kaylan, focus.  I’m here for a purpose and I need to focus on that reason.  I need to find the dagger. The weaver said I should, at the very least, find some guidance to more information about it here.  Of course, finding someone willing to stop to answer my questions will be the first obstacle to overcome.  I would prefer to get reliable information without any confrontations.  Getting them to answer my questions without them having heart seizures will be the second fun obstacle.  Perhaps if I can speak to the local priest I might be able to reduce the tension level and shorten my visit at the same time.

Kaylan looked down upon the town just as the sun crested the distant hills to glisten on the light blanket of freshly fallen snow.  While Springtide was in full bloom back at the Port, it took a bit longer to reach the mountains.   The shadows she had seen the previous evening disappeared in the wake of the sun’s rays.  The thin layer of powder white snow provided a pleasant clean crispness to the early morning air.  Kaylan’s breath curled in front of her as she exhaled.  The morning rays poured over the awakening town to find the local shops already abuzz with activity. Not for long, mused Kaylan.  She had seen this all too often.  The town is bustling in its normal routine until she strolls into view, then the skittering sounds of people retreating indoors followed by a deadly silence.  All part of the job, Kaylan, get over it.  She allowed an almost regretful sigh escape again as she urged her blue roan charger forward in a slow descent to the valley that led to the main entrance.

Kaylan skirted the town working her way around to the east entrance to keep the sun behind her as she approached the town.  The sun glinted off her deep auburn hair casting a wild red glow around her head.  She rode slowly through the narrow streets trying not to startle anyone.  Scant possibility of that considering there isn’t anyone in the streets to startle.  Apparently word of her approach had already spread like wildfire.   She didn’t think it had taken that long to descend the hill.  They must have a lookout posted somewhere although I didn’t see one.  She tucked that thought away for future reference. 

As she had observed so many times before, what had been an active hive of shops and patrons was nothing more than wary shopkeepers praying she wanted nothing from them.  They watched her from the open air windows of their businesses and each breathed a sigh of relief as she passed without a word.  They all knew better than to close shop even though that is exactly what they wished to do for they also knew if she wanted something – anything – from them she would just break down the door.  If that should ever happen, Kaylan was not responsible for the damage and the owner would be lucky just to keep his life.  Instead the shopkeepers simply continued to track her as she passed each storefront.

Kaylan traveled a little less than a half-mile to the center of town.  She glanced over her shoulder to the entrance through which she passed.  A few of the braver patrons quietly continued their morning business among the various shops.  The business owners still eyed her warily but with obvious relief that they had nothing of particular interest to her.

She turned her attention to the rest of the town.  From its center she could see the basic design from which it sprang to life.  The well in the center of town was much akin to a watering hole at a desert oasis.  This one was set up with several troughs, all of which were empty, that were close enough to the well that whoever drew the water would not have to go far to fill them.  This, she decided, was either smart or lazy.  Work smarter not harder I suppose.  There must not be much livestock, though, otherwise this place might get quite congested, she observed.  The North and South entrances were not visible from the well due to the cluster of row houses lining the street on either side. The close construction and two- and three-level design of the long structures were situated so as to easily accommodate at least two if not three families.  If each home was at its maximum capacity, Capri should be a considerably larger town than what was reported on the census each year. 

The structure she was most immediately interested in, though, was the large single building directly to the west of the well.  The church seemed to have been the central building at some point in time with the town growing out from it.  She assumed from the layout that some ambitious clergyman decided to build the troughs and charge travelers a “convenience” fee for using them.  Once that idea caught on some other ambitious individual decided to set up his wares at the most accessible entrance to town so every traveler that came through would have to pass by before they even made it to the well.  Thus the marketplace at the East entrance was born.  The birthplace of free enterprise, she thought dryly.

She looked around again as she dismounted.  There still wasn’t much activity on the streets this morning for it to be about the eighth hour.  No matter, she still had things to get accomplished and she wanted to be out of town before nightfall.  It was much easier to find level ground in the early evening than it was after dark when everything looks the same until you lie down on a tree root or stumble in a rabbit hole.

Kaylan walked up the five stone steps to a large heavy wood door.  The weathering of the wood gave it a sick ashen appearance.  The peep window looked to be made of a different type of wood that seemed to suffer the weather a little better.  The dark glossy coating caused the window to look as if it was made of fire rock, or what is more commonly called black glass.  The bell pull to the left of the door did not look like it had much use.  Technically, she didn’t have to use it either.  Her position as Marshall was the only ‘request’ she needed to go anywhere or do anything – or to enter a church that should be open to its parishioners anyway.  Out of respect, however, she decided to pull the rope and the clang of the brass clapper against the bell echoed in the peaceful morning.

The black glass window opened to a pair of red rimmed eyes with large puffs underneath the lower lids.  When the man behind those eyes realized who she was his eyes grew very wide with fear.  A vein in his forehead just above his eyebrows began to pulse visibly.

“M-M-May I help you, Ma’am?” he stammered.

Kaylan smirked at his timidity.