The enormous walls of Ith were still there. The trails of smoke overhead still marred the sky. The sprawling metropolis was as Ren had left it: massive, melancholic, and madly beyond any man’s control. Ren and his men had to beat a few rogue guards senseless just to enter through the eastern gate where they had many-a-time arrived at the city. One man tried to stab Virn with a knife before the little skirmish was done. When Virn caught the blade in the palm of his hand and put his other fist through the side of the man’s skull, Ira yelped. She spent the rest of the afternoon staring at Virn.
Renado worried that mention of Virn’s unbreaking skin would remind the populace of Ith of the Mage King’s downfall. Eager to put some distance between his troop and the subdued gang at the Highland Gate, he ordered that they cross the Low Dales on a southward loop and find an inn somewhere in the Norzeen District. There, he found that the City Watch had retaken the District. The bodies hanging from the cloud-scraping walls were gone and properly armoured sentries patrolled the streets.
The inn they found was called the Yaru Trader. Built on the farthest north tributary of the North Fork, the Trader was one of the closest things to a harbour inn that Ith possessed. There, Ren learned what had transpired in Ith since his absence.
It seemed that Domeran’s gang had been crossed by the schemes of the City Watch. Some spy, it seemed, had delivered news of a meeting between Domeran and the leader of a second, smaller gang. Domeran and the leader of the second gang were both slain during the ambush. The criminal alliance that ruled the Norzeen and half of Massed Alley fell to shambles over the next several weeks. It seemed the smaller, separate group, had joined the Delivered out of desperation.
Now, to Ren’s disappointment, the City Watch was poised to reclaim the remaining boroughs of Ith. From where he sat in the Yaru Trader, Ren began to itch to be gone from the city at once. He rubbed his freshly clean-shaven chin—the primary feature of his disguise—and drank his cider quietly at the bar. Though Woodro and Captain Urro joined one of the card tables in the common room, Ren was worried any slip of the tongue might get them in trouble. They had, after all, assassinated the government that once controlled the City Watch.
Ira ordered her second whiskey and Ren raised an eyebrow at her. “Aren’t you going to join their game?”
“As if,” Ira said, with a roll of her eyes. “None of your men will play cards with me anymore. I won enough of their scant coins.”
Ren had asked everyone to contribute to the fee of finding a riverboat to take them down the North Fork and the Raena River. Everyone had volunteered, rewarding Ren’s finances with greater wealth than he expected to need. Maybe he would give them a bonus of some sort when they safely reached High Raena. He regarded Ira with a narrow smile. “I’ll play you,” he said. “But I can only lose a little.”
“We don’t have to play for money,” Ira said. “Let’s just pass the time.”
Ren nodded and swivelled on his bar chair to face her. As she dealt them two hands of Miser, Ren watched the chandelier light reflected in her eyes. She was focused totally on the cards, not on their dangerous presence in the city or the secrets she still had not yet learned. She had grown distant during their Highland trek after learning about their role in recent events, but right here—in a city of half a million—she was content to just spend time with him. He leaned forward and touched her leg.
She stopped dealing and asked, “What?”
“Thank you,” Ren said, “for staying.”
Ira’s eyes lit up with mirth. “Will you still be thanking me after I wipe the bar with you?” she asked, and customarily reshuffled the remaining cards of the deck. Ren looked at his hand and groaned.