Crickets were chirping. The sound, poignant yet occasional, slowly piqued the little hairs in Renado’s ears and lifted their lids of his eyes. It was dark, even when his eyes were open. But groggily, Ren could see a boot through all the blurriness. He took a deep breath and his sight clarified. It was Asar’s boot, with the respective man attached to it.
Slowly, Ren sat up. He was lying on the floor of the Axar’s cellar, though someone had put a pillow under his head. “Easy, easy,” a voice said. It wasn’t one of his men’s. Ren soon realized there was a stranger sitting on the stairs to his right. It was a white-haired man, with a small leather kit in his hands. “The sedative is still wearing off, so be careful.”
Ren looked at Karsef, sitting on his other side and mouthed a question. ‘Where is the lockbox?’ he asked.
Karsef tilted his head toward Woodro, who quietly sat in front of the hole in the wall. Ren gave him a slight nod and got one in return.
“How do you feel?” the healer asked.
“Much better,” Ren said. None of the aches and pains that had crippled him before affected him now. Through the hole in the cellar ceiling, he could see stars. How long had he been out for?
“Were you stung?” the man asked. “It’s rare for any insects in these parts to inflict sedation like this. You’ve been asleep for half a day.”
Ren shook his head. “It wasn’t a bug,” he said. “But I feel much better. Here, for your trouble.” He fumbled in his pocket, while the healer quietly waited, and handed the man a few coins. All the fellow had done, likely, was check his vitals and eased his pain. The poison had been a sedative, so that anyone stealing from Axar would be there in a daze when he returned.
“I’d recommend further rest, though you won’t be sleepy. There’s no saying how much damage was done to your muscles and your sense of space around you…”
“That’s quite alright,” Ren said. He folded the man’s fingers around the loose coins and smiled. “Have a good evening doctor.”
The man gave a tsk and slowly stood up. He smiled to the others, and then turned to climb the burned out stairs. Karsef called, “careful!” after him.
After a few minutes, Ren stood up and put his back against one of the beams supporting the stairs. “Why didn’t you move me back to the inn?” he asked.
Woodro smiled. “Moving a body would seem suspicious,” he said, humorously.
Ren sighed in frustration though they were right of course. He just couldn’t let them know that. Woodro produced the lockbox from under his wide, tanned cloak, but it was still locked. There was a tiny pin under the handle, just in the most comfortable spot to place one’s hand when grabbing it. Ren pulled out his dagger and, with the point of the handle, tapped the needle until it broke off, spilling a few drops of liquid from a compartment in the box’s grip. With a rag, he wiped the poison away.
“We, uh, found something else,” Asar said. He bobbed his head across the room. “Another hiding spot.”
This hole had only been opened part way, Ren realized. Most of the unsealed bricks were still in place, though a dark opening was visible across a space half the width of the first hole. They walked over to it together. Ren was stiff and sore, but sturdy on his feet nonetheless.
Karsef held him back from the hole with an arm held out in front of him. “There’s a snake,” he said.
Ren blinked at him in disbelief and tilted his head toward the opening. Sure enough, he heard a quiet hiss when Asar used his sword and scabbard to knock another brick out of the way. “Gods be damned, who is this man?” Ren asked. “Poison traps and snakes? I thought he was a sorcerer.” He eased his own sword out of its scabbard and went to stand beside the opening. Like a cleaver, he’d hew the serpent’s head off when it peaked out of the hole.
“Allow me,” Woodro said, and his own blade rasped free of the metal eye at the top of its sheath.
He always volunteered for the insane tasks. “You have a death wish, good sir,” Ren replied, but stepped out of the way.
Woodro prodded all the rest of the bricks out of the hole. They thudded to the ground like a landslide, and a louder hiss echoed out of the cubby. As soon as the serpent slid for the opening, Woodro slash his blade down, sending a spark flying as it slid down the stone wall and across the hole. With another brick-like thud, a snake’s head the size of a children’s hand thudded down into the bricks.
Asar clapped his comrade on the back, while the latter grimaced as he pulled the contorting snake’s body out of the slot in the wall. As Woodro sheathed his sword, Asar dropped down to one knee to examine the opening for traps. Karsef didn’t help at all, on account of his healing arm.
It was just a well-sealed folio of documents that Asar removed from the hole, when he deemed it was safe. He passed them to Ren. Ren pulled at the sewn cloth opening and freed the pages within into his other hand. There were several thick stocks of parchment hidden here, but each was written in a sort of code, or some other language. Ren scowled. Who in the three oceans is this bastard? It was going to take him weeks to crack that bronze case open, unless they hired a specialist, and only the gods knew how long it’d take to puzzle out some semblance of reason from the documents.
“Back to the inn,” he muttered. He had had enough of Axar’s house. If the man was a scorched body on the floor above them, he’d be happy. He’d be happier given a chance to run the serpent through himself.