Ren buckled his sword on quickly, grabbed his cloak, and hurried out the door of his inn room as quickly as he had entered it. “Lead on,” he called to Urro as he strode across the inn room. His volunteers had already gathered—Asar, Omma, Bran, and, of course, Virn. Their gang strode out from Parla’s and cut a swath through the crowded street. Woodro had been captured and they were going to get him back.
The incident had happened earlier that day. Woodro and Urro had been staying at their own tavern, waiting to see if their taunt to Tobud and Hartho had worked. The priesthood had not yet followed up after their conversation about a local scheming magician. Of course, it had been a long shot anyway—or so Ren had thought. Then Urro came to him with a tale of guards storming into the tavern and seizing Woodro while the old Captain himself hid out of sight.
It was a disappointing turn to the day. Ren had previously planned to attempt bribing his way into the Perfumed Palace. Surely, some of Archpriest Morrus’ friends would know secrets about the Militant Creed’s activities. Now, Ren was stuck cleaning up another mess.
At least Urro had watched where they brought Woodro. Ren followed him past the inn and down a few streets until they reached a small guardhouse. “This is the place,” Urro told the group.
It wasn’t large. Virn could probably have defeated everyone inside on his own. Ren looped his finger in the air and they quietly paced around the guardhouse looking for windows or any sign that Woodro was still here. Meeting back near the front door, Ren gave them a nod and climbed the steps alone. He rapped the door once with his knuckles and then stepped inside.
There were six guards in there, sitting around two tables. Two jumped to their feet as Ren entered, while the others rose more slowly. Weapons were groped, but not drawn. In a small cell at the back of the room, Woodro looked up and said, “Hi, boss.”
Ren shook his head at his mercenary. Even saying what he had gave away who Ren was and what he was doing there. One of the guards drew his sword, but Ren didn’t react. He didn’t want to provoke a fight with the Saanazar City Guard if he could avoid it. “Why is he a prisoner?” he asked the guards. “What did he do?”
The one with his blade out spoke up, “He knows information concerning the security of Saanazar, and the Grey Brethren will question him to learn what, then release him.”
“He doesn’t know a damn thing,” Ren snorted. “He’s a drunk looking for attention.”
“You’d have to take that up with the priests.”
Ren spread his hands at his sides. “Get me a priest then.”
The guards looked at each other uncomfortably. The cloud of tobacco hanging from the ceiling was starting to dissipate, though tendrils still rose from discarded pipes on the table. At last one told Ren, “A priest scheduled a… er, visit, next hour. Just wait for him.”
With a shrug, Ren turned back to the door and walked outside. He told his men what the guards had said, and they leaned against the warm brick wall of the guardhouse to wait. One of the soldiers came out, looked at Ren’s posse and blinked. He gave them a heavy nod and then walked back inside. The door did not close behind him.
About an hour passed—it was now the afternoon. At last a priest came striding along, robed in grey. It was Tobud, Ren recognized, and he was alone. The priest was a close friend of Archpriest Hartho of the Sage’s Creed. As far as Ren had determined, the duo was the best place to leak his information about the Conclave. Of course, Tobud slowed cautiously and eyed the motley band of mercenaries arrayed around the guardhouse. “Who are you people?” he called.
“I’m the one with true information,” Ren called, walking forward.
“About this plotting magician in the area?” Tobud asked. “There’s a dozen, doubtless, but if Saanazar’s security is at risk, withholding the information is traitorous. It should be shared for the good of all of us.”
“Then we should trade information,” Ren said.
Tobud blinked. One of the guards from inside stepped up to the threshold. The priest found his words and said, “This is most unusual. Who do you represent? We cannot trust an unknown party in times such as these.”
Ren sighed. “I’m a concerned citizen from Sheld.”
“Ah. Sheld—I see. These are trying times for everyone on the coast of the Grey Sea, but I cannot in good conscience trust you at your word,” Tobud said. He must have been a handsome man in his youth, but age had taken most of his hair and given him heavy wrinkles under his eyes. “Give me proof or a sign of goodwill. Lacking this, I will be returning to the temple and reinforcing our captured informant’s position.” He snapped his fingers toward the besieged guardhouse.
“I know the Mage Kings were killed,” Renado said, “by a specific organization.”
Tobud’s thin eyebrows rose. “I know of what organization you speak, but I confess I know very little. If what you say is true, we will doubtlessly speak again. And your friend’s release could certainly be arranged.”
Ren crossed his arms. “When you confirm what I say, you will be coming to speak with me—but my friend is coming with me now.”
“That would be breaking the law,” Tobud said, “And we will defend it.” The guard at the door stepped outside.
If only they knew what we were capable of, Ren thought. He looked at his friends and then back to Tobud. “We’ve got no reason to trust you. Now, I’ve given you information like you asked and you have given me no reciprocation,” Ren growled, raising his hands. “How should I believe that you will bring him back to me, whether your masters deem what I say to be true or not?”
Tobud considered Ren’s words with a grave expression. At last he resolved on a decision. “Fine. He won’t be removed from this guardhouse, so leave your own people here if you must ensure his security.”
“How long?” Ren asked. He was growing tired of this conversation.
“I will do my best to get you answers this very day.” Tobud bobbed his head.
Ren shrugged. “We’ll wait here then, but if you’re not back by dinnertime, we’re gone. All of us.”
“Very well,” Tobud declared. He turned and hurried away without another word.
It was a long day, standing out in the sun at that guardhouse. They heard the soldiers inside chatting and, once, Woodro whistling a song they used to sing on Vanci Dispatch. Ren told Virn to get ready when the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Then, just before Ren gave the order, Asar pointed down the street and said, “Here they come.”
Tobud was not alone. Eight soldiers marched around him, and a second priest accompanied him. Marked by a burgundy collar, the second was an Archpriest. He was younger than Tobud by a dozen years, his hair thick and dark. He stepped past the soldiers and spread his hands peacefully before approaching Renado’s group. This time, a number of civilians started to gather—guards speaking with armed men near a guardhouse was reason enough to suspect a spectacle.
“That’s Archpriest Par,” Omma said. Renado hadn’t seen all of the Grey Brethren leadership yet, though his men had each tailed one or two of the Archpriests. This was the senior member of the Cardinal Creed, charged with the defence of Saanazar, the treasury, and other administrative matters for the powerful organization.
Par smiled coldly. “We will allow your friend to leave as an act of good will,” he said, and pointed authoritatively at the doorframe. One of the guards bowed and went inside to comply with the order. “Let’s trade information as you suggest. If there is a threat to the city, we must stop it.”
Ren clasped his hands together and bowed casually at the waist. “Very well,” he said. Getting somewhere at last! “Let’s arrange a time and place we can meet that is not here or now. A place of equal footing.” He glared around at the new reinforcements and the soldiers glared back at him.
“Fine,” Par said, “But don’t leave Saanazar.”
Ren nodded. Woodro came stumbling down the steps and bobbed his head to Renado as he joined the gang of mercenaries against the brick wall. Renado knew Par would have them all watched now, but this was as good as it was going to get. “Let’s meet on a dock in the waterfront. The one in front of the Salty Dolphin. One week from now. Bring a guard or two—no more. We meet to exchange information, not weapons.”
Par inclined his head. “As you say.”
“Are we done?” Ren asked, turning to the side.
Par spread his hands and stepped back to his soldiers. Tobud watched as Ren and his friends strode to the left of the group and back into the streets of the city. As they walked, Ren felt the eyes of Archpriest Par boring into him. He turned back and waved. At last, Par and Tobud headed into the guardhouse to get reports from their subordinates.
Ren saw Woodro smiling as they walked. He clapped the man on the arm and asked, “You? Of all people, you got captured?”