Page 2 of For the Love of the Quest

On the streets of London, she was thoroughly invisible. Not a single soul spared her a glance. Soon, once she found Excalibur, all these people would look at her with awe, and not because of who her family was or how much money they had, but because of what she had accomplished herself.

For now, though, Edith was more than content with the blank slate.

With one hand raised to shield her eyes from the sun, she peered down at the wrinkled map she had apologetically stolen from the coachman. With a finger, she traced the path to the Oleander Inn.

It was early evening, and she wondered if they would be open at this hour. Did criminal syndicates have regular business hours? Surely they’d have to, otherwise how would people know when they could come round to hire their services?

These were the logistical factors that had never seemed to come up when Edith and her grandmother had spoken about the quest. They’d spent hours upon hours theorizing about King Arthur’s resting place; neither believed that the tomb at Glastonbury Tor marked his true gravesite. They debated whether Merlin’s magicalpowers were allegory or actual fact—they both agreed it was the latter. But never once had her grandmother offered any concrete advice on how Edith should actually navigate the vast country all on her own. Probably because she was never meant to do this alone. They were supposed to have been conquering the journey together.

Edith turned the final corner, hoping that the criminals weren’t only available to speak to in the dead of night. She really was tired and not keen on the idea of having to wait up that late.

The sign dangled from an iron rod hammered into the crooked rows of stone. For confidence, Edith tucked a hand into her satchel, her fingers tracing the designs of the ceramic jar within. Foregoing any more preamble, she stepped inside.

The floor was sticky. On second glance, even the walls looked sticky. And the people too. The entire establishment seemed draped in shadow, smoke, and grime. A rough, tattered-looking patron who had been lingering by the entrance took a deep puff from his pipe and blew the smoke directly in Edith’s face. The cloying taste of it sat heavily on her tongue, and she shuddered to think how many baths she would need to wash the smell out of her hair.

Lifting the hem of her dress, she delicately waded through the mass of bodies and toward the bar. It took her far longer than she would have expected to signal the barman. She was shocked that so many people were drinking already, and by the behavior of some of the men in there, they were already quite deep in their cups.

The barman gave her a scathing look as he approached her.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Edith smiled at his stone-hewed expression.

“What’ll it be?” His grumble was barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

Edith leaned close, discreetly checking the bar for spills before resting her elbows against the wood. “I’m here to speak with him.”At the barman’s blank look, she added, “You know, your boss.” She threw in a wink for good measure.

“Girlie, I think you’re confused …” He trailed off, looking at her like she was a strange bug.

Edith huffed and drew even closer. “I was told this was where I could meet with the Sunless Syndicate.” She had overheard her father discussing the legendary gang with his business associates. They had spoken of them disparagingly but also, somehow, with great importance. Phrases like “the moral decay of the country” and “death of civility” had been thrown around with no small frequency.

The barman barked a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He started to turn away, but Edith reached out and grabbed his arm. “Yes, I do!”

The barman’s expression turned murderous as his eyes drifted down to where she held him in place by the arm. Edith felt the urge to retreat, but she gripped him harder. “I demand to be taken to him.”

Before she knew what was happening, the barman had twisted his wrist so that he was the one gripping her arm. He yanked her forward, and she fell against the bar. When she tried to stand, his large hand came down on her head, holding her in place.

She kicked her legs uselessly. “Let me go this instant!”

Nothing happened. As far as she could tell, every patron in the inn was entirely ignoring her predicament. Perhaps thiswaswhere civility came to die. She truly hadn’t expected this to be the most dangerous part of her quest.

The pressure against her head let up. “It’s time for you to go,” he growled, releasing her arm and shoving her back. The aggressive barman lumbered around the counter, then came to loom over her.He took her arm once again, this time in an even more punishing grip.

“I am not leaving until I speak to the Sunless Syndicate!” She tried to tug her arm from his grasp. He ignored her attempts, fully focused on all but dragging her out the door.

Edith did the first thing that popped into her mind. She went limp, letting her body drop to the sticky floor like a stone. It was disgusting and painful, but it also surprised the barman so much that he lost his grip on her completely.

She straightened her body into a log and rolled right against his shins. Just as desired, he toppled over her and only barely caught himself before landing face-first on the floor.

Before he could make it back to his feet, Edith took off for the door behind the bar. Just as she was reaching for the handle, a strong hand clapped down on her shoulder and whirled her back around.

“How dare you,” the barman growled at her. His cheeks were blotched with red, and spittle flew from his lips.

“How dare I?” Edith straightened to her full height, which was markedly average and nowhere near the height of the man before her. “How dareyoutreat a lady like this.”

“There aren’t no ladies here.” He smiled brutally at her and raised his hand.

Edith closed her eyes, but the blow never came. She opened one eye to see a slender man with close-cropped chestnut hair and an impressive scowl whispering in the barman’s ear.