The wooden steps up to the front door of Nalisa Orr’s home looked even more worn before. Renado had not spoken with Irrith in almost two Moons—he lived in Vagren and slept slumped over a bar more often than not. He was being paid for it, so, by the gods, why not? He had divvied up the coins that Halrum brought his men each week, and that was the only responsibility he had.
Until the summons came. Ren followed Woodro up the steps to the front door of the organization’s safe house. The familiar tension between Ren’s warrior and the warrior of a fellow faction seemed to settle into a place that had been empty without it. Woodro’s shoulders rose, and his gait picked up. Ren felt a certain clarity form in his mind as he stared down Irrith’s usual bouncer, like a hole forming in the clouds.
Irrith stood in the doorway to the sitting room, and led the way in. Woodro wasn’t the only man standing in the room ahead of Ren’s entrance—a bald man in a dark burgundy robe rose from the old armchair where once Ren had sat. The familiar sorcerer drew Ren’s exclamation, unwilled, from his throat: “Gods, what are you doing here?”
Gravagan’s mouth quirked in its usual smirk and he bowed, his wispy white sideburns quivering. “Good afternoon, Renado,” he said.
Ren looked at Asar and Karsef, the latter’s arm resting on his sword, fully healed. He turned back to Gravagan, his question not requiring a second voicing.
“We have a big plan, and it seemed wise to explain it to you in person.”
Before the phrase was even finish, Ren stepped closer to the magician and asked another question. “Is everything good with Lerran and Tass?” he asked. If the answer was no, then Ren wouldn’t let Gravagan speak another word.
“There were some minor complications in childbirth, but we had a few magicians around and everyone is fine,” Gravagan explained. He tilted his face and smiled earnestly. “You’re an uncle now, of a strong little boy.”
Woodro clapped Ren on the back before the words had even sunk in. An uncle? Ren thought. Tassina had delivered a boy, a proper son of Lerran! Our family will live on… He was smiling; he realized it when he opened his mouth to ask, “What did they name him?”
The old man smiled. “Rado. They named him after you.”
Ren nodded. “Rado,” he repeated.
Gravagan invited him to seat in one of the chairs across the room, waving his hand as he sank into his own seat. “Is there anything else I can answer for you, or shall we speak on business?”
Ren glanced at his men. Woodro sat down next to Ren, while Asar and Karsef chose to wait in the doorway. Irrith sat a few seat to Gravagan’s right. There was a downward twist to her expression, but Ren couldn’t place it. Maybe the power-thirsty woman was just irritated with having her superior around. Ren looked across the carpeted floor at Gravagan and bobbed his head. “What’s this mission you came all this way to speak about?” he asked.
Another one of those smirks flitted across Gravagan’s jaw, only to be replaced with ground-together teeth and a phrase Ren had not expected. “It’s time to kill the Mage Kings,” he said.
Woodro let out his breath in a whistle, but Ren was, once again, still processing. “What?” the brother of Lerran asked.
“Maybe a drink, Halrum,” Irrith said. The man tapped the beads in his moustache and bobbed his head. He fumbled past Renado’s men and into the hallway.
Gravagan leaned back in his chair. “In light of recent events, I have made a deal that ultimately serves us doubly well. Unfortunately, you’ll need to work with, well, enemies of your Family. Did your brother ever tell you the story of Paksis?”
“I’ve heard the tale. She was hauled off by another warrior as strong as her,” Ren replied. “What does that have to do with the Mage Kings?”
“As you know, my faction does not include all magicians. There is another group. While I dream of a golden age, a time of unity, they value the empowerment of the human species.” Gravagan paused as Halrum returned, bearing a tray. Karsef and Asar grabbed cups from the tray as the loyal man walked by. The aged sorcerer continued, with a wave of his hand. “They spend their efforts to create greater beings, not greater lands. Recently, the Grey Brethren have become a problem for them. And, as you know, for us.
“An alliance, then?” Ren asked, quietly. He accepted a narrow cup of red wine and took a sip.
“A deal. Nothing more,” said Gravagan, gruffly. “I’ve agreed to focus the efforts of our organization on destroying the Grey Brethren for them. In return, they will assist us in the killing of the Mage Kings. With you.”
Ren had already finished his wine. It had been small. He licked his lips. “You said they were enemies of our family, but I wouldn’t consider them that,” he said. “I never interacted with them… on account of being teleported without my permission away from your island.”
“Governance of the Isle of Dusk,” the old man said, sternly, “is not under my command. It’s neutral ground for magicians, and therefore subject to vote.”
Ren looked at the man blankly. Mages and schemers were the lot of them.
The old sorcerer took a deep breath. “Nonetheless, I apologize for such a jarring change in your life, and I am glad you don’t have any hatred for the Circle.” He took a shallow breath. “A pair of warriors are on their way to Vagren already, to join with you and your men. Trust me, their skills are beyond that of normal men and women, similar to Paksis. Our goal is to eliminate the remaining eight Mage Kings, regardless of their prisoners or the collateral damage on Ith. The city will recover, inevitably, and hopefully under better leadership.”
Woodro looked at Ren with a smile, and the brother of Lerran let his own flit across his expression for a moment. It was reckless, but it was something. Ren reached for a second pewter of wine. “Is Paksis coming too?”
“I cannot answer that,” Gravagan said, scratching one white sideburn. “Insights into their group remain one of my desired, but unfulfilled, abilities. I cannot say who they will send, specifically.”
“So that’s all the information you have. Sounds like a ‘Yes, sir’ is all you’re after.”
Gravagan folded his arms. “We did train you and your men to fight magicians,” he said in a low voice. “This was part of the original deal, more or less. And Lerran remains content to work for us in return for our support.”
Ren looked at Karsef and Asar with a raised eyebrow. Asar, on cue, nodded his head. “Yes, sir.” At that, Gravagan smiled, and Ren finished his second helping of the wine.