Each minute tread slowly past Ren. He sat with his back against a bar in Pranan’s Hill. A cider sat on his gut, supported there by one hand. Beside him, Kazra smirked at his impatience and drank from her own ale. Captain Urro and Sarno’s men were playing dice, but each rattle seemed to remind Ren that only seconds had slipped by, and Woodro had not yet returned from the mysterious estate where reports placed Karsef and Crollem. Caged.
When Woodro at last returned, over an hour had passed. He had previously told them the basics: two men had been spotted in cages, hanging from the eaves of an abandoned mansion. When it was determined that it was two of Ren’s party, the brother of Lerran had marched a group of eight to a nearby inn. Clearly, it was a trap. They kept their distance for now.
Woodro had a more detailed report after his hour-long reconnaissance. He ordered an ale, took a sip, and then told Renado what was going on. “Everyone is equally confused. I did as you asked—I watched to see if anyone was watching the crowd. Everyone I could see is coming and going. They come for twenty minutes, they get bored and leave. I couldn’t see in every building on the street, mind you, but no one in plain view is waiting for the bait to be taken.”
“No sign of King Turim, then,” Kazra murmured. She set her mug down on the bar with a wooden clap.
Ren grimaced. “He’s there,” he said. “He must be.”
“Someone tried getting their attention, but Karsef just pointed. He was gagged,” Woodro said. “He pointed toward the centre of town.”
“Why?” asked Sarno, entering their closed circle. The inn was not crowded, but this was the day to be very, very cautious.
Renado shrugged. “Could be trying to tell the people it had to do with the Mage Kings. Could be something else. We can’t just keep waiting. King Turim made his move, now we make ours.”
“Risky,” Woodro said, his eyes lighting up. “Definitely necessary.”
“I’ll send three,” Ren decided. “While the rest of us wait here for security’s sake.” He sat up straight and set aside his cider.
Kazra held up a hand with one finger raised.
“Kazra,” Ren said. “Sarno. Asar… isn’t going, because Woodro is the third.” The look of torment on Woodro’s face at the thought he would be left behind was worth it. Sarno did not look as amused—Woodro’s boastful nature rubbed the professional merc the wrong way. Nonetheless, the three strode toward the exit. Kazra’s light push to the door flung it open, and Woodro’s spry gait brought him through first.
If the hour of waiting for Woodro was an ache, the half-hour waiting for the three warriors to return was sheer torment. Every shout in the distant city streets was a shout of his men dying, he was certain. Ren tried passing the time with a game of dice, but he lost the first round and his interest quickly soured.
A huff from the door, a few minutes later, drew everyone’s attention. Karsef, wearing Kazra’s tattered cloak for his shirt, came through first, and Ren let out his breath loudly. He embraced his loyal friend around the neck and patted his shoulders. “You’re alive,” he muttered in disbelief.
Crollem was there too, safe and sound with the three that Ren had sent for the rescue. He spoke before Karsef managed to: “Turim put us up there without explanation. It’s true. This must be a trap.”
Sarno nodded, but gave his comrade a hand clasp too. It was a familiar gesture, between the two, and then they were both professionals again. “We should get out of here,” Sarno told Ren.
“I agree,” Renado said.
“There was a woman there; she led the rescue. Do you think she works for Turim too?” Karsef asked. “A ploy to get Woodro and the others to make connection?”
“It’s impossible to say for certain,” Kazra muttered. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Ren nodded. He lowered his voice and told them his orders. “We will meet back at the Targon Tavern,” he said. It was their home in Ith, for now. Virn and Omma held down the fort in Ren’s absence. “But we each go a different way. Delay half-an-hour or an hour. No more.”
Sarno scratched his scruffy chin and nodded. He stepped aside to pass the orders on to Red and Dorvigo. Woodro and Karsef left before the dice game was even over, while Kazra preceded Ren by only a moment or two.
Ren kept a turning gaze angled behind him, checking his wake for a vengeful Mage King after every block. He was waiting for chaos to break out, but he made it safely to the bathhouse adjacent to the Targon. There was no sign of a tail. He went into the bathhouse for the next half-hour, as he had suggested to the others. He quickly washed up in the upper-class portion of the establishment, and enjoyed a wine provided by a timid slave girl as earnestly as he could with the day’s palpable suspense suppressed.
When Ren finally dressed again and took the back door into the Targon, he found Omma standing in the alleyway. The broad-shouldered man smiled. “Welcome back,” he said.
Ren nodded. “The others?” he asked.
“Most are back,” Omma said. “Do you think we are in jeopardy here, now?”
“Gods, I hope not.” Renado shoved open the back door and marched inside. He was glad to find baby Rado in the nook of Karsef’s arm and a half-dozen others who had gone down the hill with Ren there as well. Only Woodro and Crollem had not returned yet.
The anxious waiting game began again. Renado played dice in earnest this time, and after losing a common man’s weekly wages to Sarno, he began to forget the time. Woodro came in an hour after that, to a scolding from Karsef and Captain Urro. Ren kept betting, and another hour slipped by.
When Ren finally stood up from the dice table, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He stepped to the window of the Targon Tavern and looked out the darkness in surprise. There were stars overhead. Karsef and Asar were drinking at the bar, though many of Ren’s men had retired. Beside Ren, another man stirred. Sarno sat watching the night with concern. “Crollem is still gone,” he said.
“We’ll look for him in the morning,” Ren assured him quietly. “Maybe he forget we were to rendezvous here; after all we were staying at the Verdant Drinkhouse when last he joined us.”
Sarno nodded. “I hope so,” he grunted.