Omma, the broad-shouldered bookkeeper from the days of the Vanci Dispatch, had been spending his last few weeks investigating Archpriest Roithe by studying local archives. He got approval from Renado to spend some of their group funds on a research pass to a prestigious academy in Saanazar, but varied his attendance between several locations. A few days earlier, he had come to Renado with an intriguing find.
Using a brief diversion to gain access to a staff-only desk, Omma had stolen a note given to the library clerks from Archpriest Roithe. Though it was dated a year earlier, the note had listed books the Archpriest had sought. All shared a similar theme—volcanic activities. Some listed historical accounts of specific eruptions, or focused on firsthand accounts of disasters. Others were attempts at scientific explanation of the violent upheavals.
“Do you think it has to do with Ellakar?” Omma had asked him.
Ren was thinking about it still, days later. He sat at his usual place in the bar, listening to a pair of drunkards arguing while he contemplated Omma’s question. In Ith, rumours abounded that the Mage Kings had caused the eruption of Mount Lukar, levelling Ellakar. Some said it was due to political disagreements, while others suggested it was to create a second influx of refugees for the Ith slave markets. So what was Archpriest Roithe’s involvement? Was it simply part of their research into blackmailing Axar or was there another explanation? Ren wondered if Roithe had been involved with the eruption, not the Mage Kings.
He sipped from a mug of ale and wondered how far the Grey Brethren truly reached.
“Renado,” Virn said, in his low, raspy voice. His throat had along ago been scorched dry by all manner of smoked substances and the strongest of alcohols. Virn was never seen without some fix in his hands. He quickly ordered a cup of Eastpoint Spirits.
“I apologize we haven’t had more for you to do,” Ren said.
“Don’t,” Virn replied. He lifted the pewter cup when it was served. “I’m doing just fine—though, I had a conversation you might want to hear about.”
Renado raised an eyebrow. “Oh, should we sit somewhere a little more secluded?”
“Likely,” Virn said. He slowly followed Ren to a table in the window alcove looking into the cobblestone streets of Saanazar. A wagon passed, pulled by grey and tan donkeys. “Heard a First Mate from the harbour talk about an upcoming voyage of his and three other state transports.”
“Oh? Where to?” Ren asked.
Virn smiled. “I got him drunk, so he would tell me. Worked like a charm.” The dangerous warrior sipped his spirits and smiled as he lowered the cup. “They are sailing to Squora, a village near Sheld.”
“I know it,” Ren snapped. Squora was where Matriarch Valakono had met with his brother Lerran. That was where the Empire of Noress had pretended to buy Lo Mallago from the Family of Sheld. “What are these ships doing there? Who is going?”
“Several of the Archpriests,” Virn said. He leaned forward. “Where they will be meeting with the Matriarchs of Var Nordos in order to officialize their alliance.”
“Damn them,” Ren breathed. He clenched his fists. This threat from the Great Isle, this army of bandits… it was no good for Ren’s plans. He didn’t want two of his enemies to team together. “We’ll need to do something about this,” he said.
Virn nodded. “Ambush?”
“Too risky,” Ren decided. He didn’t want to commit to a full attack on a meeting of governments. That might have been as dangerous as eliminating the Mage Kings, and Ren had more plans for the future than just eliminating two of his enemies. “Maybe we can hire someone. Get Omma to tally up our financials.”
“Fine,” Virn said. He looked across the room to a table of cardplayers and snapped his fingers at Asar. The man came over a moment later. “Go tell Omma to tally up our financials,” he repeated. Asar nodded and strode out of the tavern.
“Really?” Ren asked Virn, with a raised eyebrow.
The warrior shrugged and lifted his cup. “I’m not done yet,” he replied.
Later that afternoon, Omma met with Woodro and Ren in Ren’s rooms at Parla’s Place. It was a cramped space, so Ren had kept the meeting small. When Omma delivered him their latest number, Ren did a quick mental assessment. “That’s enough for an assassin,” he decided.
Woodro rubbed his shaven cheeks. “I might be willing to ride a flaming ship into a harbour, but that kind of dedication would cost a lot more if you were paying for it.”
“I’m not going to pay someone to try taking out the whole meeting,” Ren said, “or to sacrifice their life. I want one of the Matriarchs eliminated. Valakono, preferably. The method doesn’t matter, but we’ll have this assassin leave a pack, as though he ran in a hurry. In the pack must be a clue to the Grey Brethren.”
Omma grinned and nodded. “So, we kill the hag who betrayed our Family and we break their alliance at the same time.”
“Exactly,” Ren said. “Woodro, you’ve been spending your days at some of the lower-end establishments in Saanazar. Do you think you can find someone who would take this contract?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Woodro said with a nod.
“Omma, I want you to send Kal up next. We’ll need him to take something of Morrus’ from the Perfumed Palace.”
Woodro, who had already stood up, shook his head. He scratched the side of his short messy hair and muttered, “Damn lucky sailor. How come he gets the best posting?” He smirked and started toward the door.
“You shouldn’t have volunteered for danger,” Ren said, with a wink. Of course, they were all volunteering for danger on a regular basis. Hiring an assassin to target members of a powerful government—it was nothing new in Ren’s life.