Free No Quest for the Wicked by Shanna Swendson Page A

excuse me, but I wasn’t finished!” the gnome said, elbowing his way into the middle of the group.
    “Manners, little man,” Granny scolded with a warning shake of her cane. “You don’t talk to ladies like that—or gentlemen, either, for that matter. What do people teach their children around here?”
    The gnome ignored her as he focused on Owen. “Now, as I was saying, I want to know what you people have planned for that brooch. It looks like you’ve got a whole operation going on here.”
    “We’re trying to find that brooch,” Owen said.
    “I can see that, son. I’ve got two perfectly good eyes. I’ve also got a perfectly good battleaxe, and I’ll start swinging it if I don’t get a straight answer soon.”
    I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from telling him that we also had a perfectly good battleaxe, and that she was probably sharper and more dangerous than his. Granny might take offense at that.
    “We want to make sure the brooch doesn’t fall into the wrong hands, and when we do find it, we want to destroy the Eye to make sure it can never be used again,” Owen explained patiently. “Now, what is your interest in the brooch?”
    “It’s an epic story of the sort that should be shared over food and ale.”
    “We don’t have time for that right now. Short version?”
    “Let’s just say we have similar goals—and I’m here to make sure you people aren’t the wrong hands. I’m also hoping that by following you, I might be able to find and catch some of those wrong hands.”
    “What’s this brooch?” Granny asked.
    “A very bad magic thing,” I explained. “Makes everyone around it crave power while making the wearer extra powerful and invulnerable.”
    She snorted. “Any wizard worth his salt doesn’t need that sort of trinket. If you can’t do it on your own, then you don’t deserve the power.”
    All of us turned to stare at her, and I gave an involuntary shudder. I’d only recently learned that my grandmother had magical powers, and now I had to wonder what, exactly, she could do.
    “Why have you brought this powerful outside wizard?” the gnome asked. “Don’t you realize that someone like her would be dangerous around the Eye?”
    “She’s not an outside wizard,” I said. “Well, she is, but she’s my grandmother, who picked a very interesting day for a visit.”
    The gnome turned to frown at her. “This is true, lady?”
    She pulled herself to her full height, which wasn’t much taller than the gnome. “Do I look like the sort of person who lies?” she said, her tone so icy it made me shiver. “I do my magic the old-fashioned way, without trinkets. If it doesn’t come naturally, I’ve got no use for it.”
    He stared at her for a long time while she returned his stare, then at last he nodded. “You, I trust.” He turned back to us. “This bunch, on the other hand …”
    “Hey!” I protested.
    Rod stepped forward with his hand outstretched and said in his most charming tone, “Rod Gwaltney, MSI. Glad to meet you.”
    The gnome frowned. “You’re MSI?”
    “All of us are,” Rod said. “Allow me to introduce my colleagues. This is Katie Chandler, magical immune extraordinaire and granddaughter of Mrs. Callahan, our esteemed visiting wizard. The gentleman is Owen Palmer.”
    The gnome took a step backward, pulling a tiny double-headed axe from under the back of his track suit jacket. He hissed through his teeth as he glared at Owen. “Palmer? After the Eye? I don’t like this.”
    Owen held his hands up in a halfhearted gesture of surrender. “I’m getting really tired of this,” he said. “A: I’m not evil. Never have been, never will be. And B: No magic. None at all. I lost it completely. I’m even immune to magic. The Eye would be even less useful to me than a snowglobe.”
    “You know, we should probably get you a button saying that so you don’t have to repeat it all the time,” I muttered. “Or a T-shirt.”
    Granny nodded