An awful storm was roaring across Vagren on the day that Irrith sent her next summons. It belted rain down on the rooftops with a clapping din and occasionally bellowed the townsfolk deaf with sudden thunder. It was next to impossible to hear Halrum over the chaos. “A what?” Renado asked, as they sat in the Down Dunrall common room.
Halrum raised his voice so his reply could be heard. Of course, in that moment the roar of rain on the wooden shingles above lapsed a little and the thunder took a breather. “A letter!” roared Halrum’s voice. Embarrassed by his inadvertent outburst, the old errand-runner stroked his silky grey beard and bowed his head.
“A letter,” repeated Ren. He turned to look at Woodro who was lounging nearby at the bar. “A letter! Get Virn and a few others—let’s go.”
Woodro jumped up and staggered off toward the stairway. He stopped at the bottom step, and Ren heard a loud clap as the warrior struck himself across the face. He gasped, shook his head, and climbed the stairs with newfound sobriety.
Bran was the first to march downstairs. His thick brown beard looked frazzled by the humid weather, but he smiled and asked, “Is this Gravagan’s letter?”
“I would assume so,” Ren said. He glanced at Halrum, who only shrugged.
“Which means…?” Ira’s voice asked. She had been hiding behind Bran’s broad shoulders, it seemed, and came striding over to Ren.
“Our next assignment,” Ren said. “I will tell you what I can when I get back.” It had been difficult keeping secrets from Ira, but not for the normal reasons. Ren would have told her most everything had he been able. Ira gave him a nod and Ren stood up.
Despite the flooded streets, Renado led four others to the house of Nalisa Orr. He had long ago forgotten who that was—he knew it only as the fancy name for the place where the magicians met in Vagren. It seemed that Irrith lived there, but Ren could have been wrong. She could have a secret hiding place elsewhere.
The only time that he bothered to look up, Ren saw a wall of dark grey clouds fighting its way northwest against a paler territory. Then an enormous drip landed in Ren’s eye, and he spent the rest of the walk looking down and scowling. He and his friends were drenched by the time they reached their destination.
The sitting room was uncomfortably stuffy on account of the rainstorm and everyone’s damp clothes. Even a proper hide cloak had left Ren damp down his back and mingled into his chest hair. He ran a hand through his soaking hair and waited for Irrith to finish preparing her tea and speak.
“Gravagan has replied,” the sorceress informed Ren’s group. A sigh went through them. “He’s intrigued by your offer to help against the Grey Brethren and has approved sending your team to report to the mage that oversees the Saanazar area—someone who does essentially what I do here, only there. Gravagan may be there when you arrive to discuss terms.”
Ren nodded. He knew he would get a “yes” after his proposal was received. Gravagan was too efficient to ignore a team of proven champions. “By send…?”
“A Journeying spell, of course,” Irrith said.
“Of course,” Ren repeated, sarcastically. “Give us a few days to get things in order and finalize our team for this trip. We will report back in a little over a week?”
Irrith nodded. “See that you do. Gravagan does not like to be kept waiting, especially given the circumstances.”
“What circumstances?” Ren asked.
Irrith sighed, smiled in a way that said she was not amused, and then took a sip of her tea.
“We’ll take our leave then,” Ren murmured and grinned at her. The damp warriors once again filed out into the rain and hurried back to the Down Dunrall.
Ren felt an overbearing unease settle over him until he spoke to Ira. As she chose out clothes for him to change into, Ren again tried to explain that he couldn’t explain anything about their work, no matter how much he wanted to. She shrugged it off and assured him that she was coming anyway. The rainy moods all lifted off of Ren at once. She would trust him through the dark storm clouds and the foggy explanations. He told her the other truth as often as he could—that she made him happier than anything had in a very, very long time—and that telling was enough for her.