Renado and his men waited the rest of the next day for the courier they hired to bring Gravagan’s contacts in Vagren. They waited the night of the 12th too, and then a few hours after dawn on the 13th. When their voucher finally arrived, it wasn’t a man in a robe like Telan, or a wise wizard, like Gravagan or Pralla. A citizen of Vagren waved at their camp from the palisade gate in between those dividing stone walls, a middle-aged man with silver lining in his coat and leather trousers folded neatly above his soft shoes.
When Ren and his three loyal companions reached the gate, still stuffing half-rolled sleeping cots into their packs, the stranger introduced himself. “I am Halrum,” he said. He had a balding grey head, but his mouth was hidden by facial hair. Small copper beads held the points of his moustache. “Which of you is Renado? Ah, yes. I will take you in. My mistress will speak with you. She’s the one you were sent to see.”
Ren blinked by the sudden rant. He cleared his throat and said, “Yes, Irr—”
“Ah,” the man said, cutting off the word. He glanced around, at the guards and at a group of travellers attempting to gain entrance. “Yes.”
Without another word, Halrum turned and started to walk away. The guards didn’t object to Ren and Woodro following, side-by-side, or Asar and Karsef behind them. A stone corridor led under the old stone wall, decorated with murder holes overhead and grooves deep enough for soldiers to hide. Ren pursed his lips. These walls weren’t for tradition or class or just to keep the cattle in. These were defences meant to withstand invasion.
The city within was a little less strategic. Woodro whistled and faked a whiffed hand in front of his nose as they passed a run down workshop. The assemblage of middle-class homes and rare hovels between them were congregated around lavish mansions without much organization. Some parts of towns were nicer than others, though they were often divided by a little wall, or a section of the river, or a row of grassy hills. Guards patrolled some streets, though each group seemed to be bearing different emblems. One or two pair gave Ren’s group a wary eye as they passed. After all, most of the passersby were unarmed.
They stopped in front of a tall blue house. Halrum bowed and said, “Just knock. I’m certain our paths will cross again.”
“Uh… thank you?” Ren asked. He eyed the house. It wasn’t a fortress or a stronghold—it was just a homestead.
Halrum was already walking away and mumbled, “Yes, it’s been nice.”
Ren led the way toward the house. It had two-storeys and several rooms on its first floor. The walls were painted blue, while the slanted roof was covered in grey shingles. In Sheld, the buildings were square and built out of foot-thick rock bricks. Here, it looked like every house had a triangle on top. Before the front door, he paused and looked at his friends.
Woodro smirked and quickly rapped the door before Ren gave the go ahead. Asar chuckled.
A beam of sunlight that fell against the door soon illuminated the corner of a wall inside. The woman standing in the doorframe smiled through parted brown hair and waved her hand inside. “Renado,” she said, with a surprisingly deep voice. “Come in, please.”
“Of course,” Renado murmured. “After these fellows.” The others led the way past the woman. Ren sized her up as he followed suit. She had slender shoulders and a small build, almost as though she’d been born poorly. This woman was closer to Lerran’s age than Ren’s though.
She showed them into the wide living room. Twenty could sit in here, it felt like, but currently, only five did. As Ren sat, he noticed a man leaning in a doorway, hidden from the front door by the shape of the anteroom. The guard shrugged as the woman sat, and disappeared through that opening. The woman leaned forward, catching Ren’s eyes again. She regarded them with eyes green enough to make Gharo smile. “I am Irrith,” she said. “I’m in charge of this part of our organization. How was your Journey?”
“Better than my last one,” Ren said, dryly. They’d arrived in Vagren safely, after all.
Irrith nodded. “And how is the Isle of Dusk?” she asked, in her deep voice. Ren wondered where she hailed from, though her complexion matched his more or less. “I’ve not been in a few years.”
“It’s different than home,” Ren said, glancing at Karsef. His friend nodded.
“Where is home for you?”
Ren shrugged. “The sea,” he said. He waved a finger around near his head. “Not used to all these fields.”
“Then let’s get to business, so you can return home,” Irrith said. She leaned forward. “I assume Gravagan sent you to support efforts in Ith?”
Ren blinked. Whatever Vows they had both taken, their words were not held by them. He explained, “That’s true—they’ve sent me to kill Axar.”
Irrith sighed loudly. “I guess our message didn’t reach the Isle in time, not that it would have changed our request for support. Lotha, one of more active magicians in our region, came up with a plan to use the revolutionaries of Ith against Axar,” she explained. “We don’t know specifically what happened and haven’t heard from Lotha since. However, Axar’s plans were foiled, though unfortunately the revolution of Ith failed as well.”
“Gravagan didn’t tell me anything about this,” Ren said. “What’s the revolution?”
“The city of Ith was ruled for many years by eleven magicians, known as the Mage Kings. As surrounding cities fell or were corrupted, refugees flooded Ith, and the already strenuous peace between the slaves, the masters, and the ample middle class grew to a boiling point. One King died when a bridge was sabotaged. Two more died in a riot. Gravagan and our Conclave sought to overthrow the Mage Kings using this revolt, but Axar went rogue.” The magician leaned back in her chair and wrinkled her lips to make a tsk.
Finally, an explanation, Ren thought. He glanced at Woodro, while Asar nodded. They had heard the last part of this before. “What did he do to ‘go rogue’?”
“He cut all communication with us,” Irrith said, “And continued forming plots with the revolutionaries. The bridge attack was his scheme, not ours. He wanted to use the rebellion to put himself in charge, instead of our… interests.”
Ren shrugged. He didn’t really care about ‘their organization’ in terms of morals. The Family had done plenty worse before and considered betrayal on proof as loose as this too. What Ren cared about right now… was the details. “So, if you think Axar’s dead, what am I doing here?”
“You might not have been sent if we knew,” Irrith said, with a scoff. “But even now, we don’t know. For weeks after Lotha’s plan, we haven’t received a single piece of relevant information aside from knowledge that the rebellion has been crushed. A riot broke out—in conjunction with Lotha’s plans perhaps—and killed another Mage King. After that, we only know that the death toll was unbelievable, and all of the revolutionaries abandoned their leaders. We need to know if Lotha lives, if Axar lives, and we need to make sure that our privacy and security are intact.”
Grinding his teeth together didn’t help Ren much. They didn’t have much more to go on than they had before finding Irrith, aside from what they might be walking into in the great city. “Where would I find Axar, if he yet lives?”
Irrith lifted her shoulders and looked at Ren and his friends. “In his house in Ith, or in some hiding place there? Or in a neighbouring village? Or vanished, Journeying to some secure destination for who knows how much time? I think there is too much going on for action right now. I will contact Gravagan and await his instruction. Your men should remain in Vagren for the time being, until we receive orders.”
Woodro let out his breath loudly, but sat upright when Ren glanced sharply over at him. “As you wish,” Renado said to the magician. “Here in the house, or…?”
“Oh, no one stays here aside from a guard or two,” Irrith said. “This place belonged to another of our group. Well, that’s a story for another time. We’ll put you and your friends up in an inn.” She turned her head into the hallway and called to the guard they’d see before. “Call Halrum back before he gets too far.”
The guard marched briskly to the front door, flung it open, and cried, “Halrum!” For a moment, Ren wondered if the man had idled in the street, after his rather abrupt exit. But the guard looked into the room, smiling at Ren, and said, “I’ll go after him.”
Irrith shook her head. “In the meantime,” she said, then waited for the door’s latch to click on the guard’s heels. “Can I offer you and your men some refreshments?”
Ren raised his eyebrows and nodded.