From Vagren, Renado and friends went to a hillside for a few days, then to the village of Toreya, and then camped beside a brook. According to a pair of hunters they had passed two days ago, they would stay in a village again in a few days, a little place called Binnom. Their days—in town or out—were filled with bitter drinking and wayward thoughts. Ren’s beard matted longer, Ira’s attempts at cheering him grew lamer, and Virn’s constant stupor deepened.
Woodro, alone, stayed chipper. It seemed the cocky mercenary could lose his way. That evening, instead of eagerly recounting how close they had come to killing Irrith and Lotha, he told a campfire tale of a bar brawl in Eastpoint. Ren was certain most of it was inflated—or even outright lying—and put an end to it when Woodro reached the part about him catching a throwing knife out of thin air.
“And I was there, too,” Ren said, “but my hair back in those days was longer than your tongue.”
Ren’s jest was taken too seriously. Likely it was Ira’s whiskey that had distorted his natural sense of charm. He held up a hand to ease Woodro’s stung ego. He followed the hand with his torso, shifting closer to the campfire so everyone surrounding it could see him. “I didn’t mean that, but nonetheless, it is time to talk about something real.”
Captain Urro snorted at the contrast with Woodro’s entertaining reminiscence and took a sip of his wineskin.
Ren sighed. “Put down the wine, Captain. You too, Virn.”
“Me, too?” Virn drawled. He glared over the fire at Ren. He was rarely without drink, even in the mornings. Twice, Ren had smelt soma from his tent. The ferocious warrior was the worst addict among them. Despite that, he lowered his hefty mug.
“We need to decide what we’re doing with ourselves.” Ren crossed his arms, while Ira patted his back reassuringly. She sat near his right elbow, her brown tassels tied behind her head and her burgundy tunic hanging around her small shoulders. Ren smiled to her and looked back at the rest of his group. “We’ve been spited by the—” his voice broke before he could say it. Ira could hear him, so the Tether choked “the Conclave” mid-phrase. “By them twice,” he finished.
Asar nodded. “And the Grey Brethren. And pretty much everyone else we’ve had the fortune of crossing paths with. Present company excluded,” he added, with a nod to Ira. Virn, the other recent addition to their group, rolled his eyes.
“We can’t take them all on,” Bran said, shrugging. “We’re twenty, thirty men. We would dead before we began.”
Woodro snorted and opened his mouth to claim otherwise.
Omma spoke first. The quartermaster of the long perished Vanci Dispatch had been rubbing his chin, but lowered his hand to his opposite elbow. “But they can take each other on.”
Ren blinked. “What do you mean?”
“The—” His voice halted like Ren’s had. “Irrith’s people have to do something about the Grey Brethren too. We know they blackmailed Axar into betraying Irrith and her boss. We know her boss agreed to help Kazra’s people destroy the Grey Brethren because it served him, too. And not just for their assistance in killing the Mage Kings in Ith.”
Ira stirred. Her hand on Ren’s back clenched. “What? Killing the… Mage Kings?”
The companions seated around the fire grew quiet. Popping embers and sizzling creases in the glowing logs were the only sounds. Ren stood up quietly while Omma mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’ Ira stared at Ren and all his men with wide eyes and her eyebrows trembled higher as she realized it to be true. “Ira,” Ren said, his voice pained. “Let me explain.”
“You worked for that woman, Irrith, and ‘her boss,’ and you killed the Mage Kings, freeing generations of slaves from their rule. Is that a good explanation?” Ira begged. Her voice had wavered all over as she had spoken; in a moment it went from fear to heroic admiration.
“We had to. Everyone I knew would have died if we had not made the alliances we did.”
“Who are you people?” Ira demanded. She stepped back from the fire, half-claimed by the shadows.
“We’re mercenaries, smugglers, criminals, cutthroats and assassins,” Ren replied as he waved his arms around him at his wayward band. “I never lied to you, Ira, and I’m not lying now. I want you at my side, now more than ever. But I will not force you to stay or threaten you if you leave. I’ve done all I’ve done for family and for friends. Please be a part of that.”
Ira’s eyes softened as she listened to him. He could see her longing to agree to it. Her frown held her back. For a moment, she stood staring at Ren. The moment passed, she closed her eyes, and Ren lost his connection with her. When she opened them again, she was withdrawn from him. To his surprise, she stepped back into the circle of light and not away. She looked at Omma, not him, and said, “What is your plan, knowing that Irrith’s group is at odds with the Brethren?”
Ren sighed and stepped closer to embrace her. Ira held out a hand and kept him at bay. She finally looked at him, gave him a weak smile and a nod, but stayed her distance. Ren looked back at the waiting warriors and nodded. “We make them fight,” he acknowledged.
Omma nodded and awkwardly explained, “We are bound by magic and cannot tell all truths, but we can tell some. If we feed the Brethren, their fight with the—Irrith’s group will be fiercer and last longer. When both are weak, then we will see our vengeance realized.”
Asar whistled. “A riskier scheme has never been suggested.”
“Sure it has,” Woodro muttered. “Didn’t you hear Ira? We killed the Mage Kings!” Ira flinched again.
“But you had all the alliances then,” Bran pointed out. He had not been there for the fighting in Ith, but he knew how it had played out. “Now we have only enemies. Irrith’s people will know what we’re doing. They’ll be waiting for us.”
“I like it,” Woodro breathed and leaned forward. He grinned at Ren and clenched his fists in front of him.
Ren smiled. “Our information may gain us some protection from the Grey Brothers, even if they realize who we are. The irony…” he trailed off, remembering the state in which he had found Sheld upon his return. Gods, he thought, was that really a year and a half ago? “I’m not going to order anyone to do this. We go if we all agree to it.”
“Count me in. Way in,” Woodro exclaimed. The fire popped to punctuate it.
Omma and Asar both nodded. “We all agreed to walk the road to revenge, back when we crossed roads with Urro’s men in Ith,” Asar murmured. “Things have changed, but our interests have not. We’ve been lied to, betrayed, used.”
“I’d rather die in battle against them than walk away now,” Bran added.
Virn leaned forward, his glossy eyes shining with flamelight. His voice was a low ramble and his words slurred together, but his question was crystal clear. “Will you still honour our agreement?”
“Of course,” Ren said. “When our vengeance is had, yours will follow.”
“Then I’ll keep following you,” Virn said. He leaned back and raised his wooden mug high before returning it to his lips.
“My men swore to keep following me on the road after Ith,” Urro said. “Our swords and our ship are yours as always, Renado Brother of Lerran.” His men clapped erratically and a few chants of “Hurrah!” could be heard.
Woodro patted his knees emphatically as they all agreed to it. He curled his lips once more, but Ren frowned and turned to glance at Ira.
She was smiling, despite herself, at their energy and their unanimity. When she saw Ren turn toward her, her smile faded. Her voice held a tone of weariness, but her words persevered. “I go where you go, Ren,” she told him and nodded. “We’re family now, like you said.”
This time, she let him embrace her. Omma was smiling and Urro chuckling when Ren turned back to his circle of friends. The hug was hardly the end to the conversation—not to the one with Ira, nor to the one with the group. They had to discuss travel routes and destinations. Their goal was to contact the Brethren directly in Saanazar, eliminating middle-men the likes of which had betrayed them in days long gone. But Storm was moored in High Raena, hundreds of miles west of the Eastern Highlands. By the time the campsite quieted that night, they had resolved to continue on to Binnom, then west to Ith, and at last down the river to High Raena. Storm would carry them the rest of the way.
Ira was not interested in discussing the night’s major revelation further. As he went to sleep with daunting thoughts of what awaited in Saanazar, Ren felt the tense silence of her form sleeping next to him. The dual discomforts kept him awake until almost dawn.