villagers those elves have killed? Yet we’re going to make peace with hardly any concessions?”
“Enough! We worry about my city first. Warrick and his merchants look like they’re about to launch a damn revolt. I couldn’t care less about a few backwater villagers. Now again, what do we do?”
“We flee.”
Ingram and Egar gave Yor looks of complete shock.
“Could you repeat that?” Egar asked.
“I said we flee.” Yor gestured to the grand window. “They have their men gathered, their boats ready. If Angelport is a fruit, they’re the worm that’s eaten its way to the core. We must get out of their reach. They have no real armies, no proper training. If given a month to prepare, I could summon several thousand armed men ready to fight, and I know you can do the same, Egar. It doesn’t matter what the merchants do. When we return, we’ll crush them to pieces, take their boats, and end their threat once and for all.”
“Are you mad?” asked Ingram. “You want me to run like a coward?”
“A rebellion of peasants and merchants is no light thing,” Yor insisted. “Send word to Veldaren, and the rest of the lords in the north. An uprising of commoners against our rule is a threat to us all, and must be stamped out with due urgency.”
Egar took a step closer, his whole body tense.
“You want us to flee,” he said. “Abandon the crown jewel of the sea, and with our tails tucked between our legs, beg for aid from the king?”
Yor shrugged.
“If you want to put it so indelicately, yes.”
Another step.
“And how much did the merchants pay you to say that?”
Yor’s mouth dropped open, and his confusion only worsened when Egar drew his sword. Before another word could pass his lips, the sword thrust through his throat. His body convulsed, and blood splashed across them both, dripping down to stain the floor. A twist, and Egar pulled the blade free, wiping the edge clean with a cloth from his pocket.
Ingram watched it all with a baffled look on his face.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” he asked, still in shock.
“I told you he was a traitor. What possible proof could be stronger than him willingly handing the city over to the merchants without a single drop of blood spilled?”
Ingram glanced at the corpse, then nodded.
“You’re right. How many men do you have with you?”
“About a hundred trained soldiers.”
“Bring them here.” Ingram hurried toward the door, and he began calling out for the captain of his guard.
“When they land their boats, we’ll be ready,” he said, glancing back at Egar. “I want every person at our disposal here, at the mansion. I don’t care how many ruffians they’ve given a sword. They’ll break against our walls.”
“And the rest of the city?”
Ingram shrugged.
“It can burn for all I care. When they’ve tried, and failed, to take over, we’ll come storming out. We’ll seize their boats and hang every last Merchant Lord from their ankles. They’ve pretended at power for too long. With your help, we’ll take it all back.”
“Of course,” said Lord Egar, bowing low. “I’ll begin immediately.”
21
Haern sat restless in the single room home Graeven had brought them to, nestled into a quiet section of Angelport against one of the inner walls.
“I did not think you would provide us a place to stay,” the elf had told Alyssa as they sneaked inside during the cover of night. “I had a human on friendly terms with us procure it for our use. When you agreed to house us, I felt it best to keep this place just in case something went wrong.”
“Something did,” had been Alyssa’s only response.
The windows were covered with curtains, leaving the interior dark despite the midday sun. They’d had little to eat, just a small loaf of bread Haern had purchased at the market. None of them seemed to have any real appetites.
“It’s painful to sit and just wait,” Zusa said from her position sprawled out across the only bed. Alyssa sat at the foot of it, looking very tired. She wore a fine dress of elven make, a shimmering silver to replace her dirty, worn clothing from the dungeon.
“What else is there to do?” she asked. “Ingram would imprison me, the merchants would kill me, and the elves would send me off for a mockery of a trial and then execution. We’ll wait and see what Graeven can figure out.”
“I don’t like relying on others for your survival,” Haern said, peering out the window to the dull street. “We should get you out of Angelport, tonight.”
“Graeven said they’d track us.”
Haern shrugged.
“I’m scared of no elf, and I doubt Zusa is either. We’re about the best bodyguards you can have. With just the three of us, we should make it back unnoticed.”
Alyssa lay down on the bed, Zusa sliding over to make room. With her hand across her eyes, Alyssa sighed.
“I know. You’re right. I need to be back in Veldaren, where I can deal with Madelyn appropriately. I miss my little boy, too. Let’s at least wait for Graeven. If he can get the rest of his kind to let us be, for even a few days, we should escape with little difficulty.”
Haern shrugged.
“If you insist.”
He stood and reached for the door.
“Where are you going?” Zusa asked.
“Out.”
He kept his sabers hidden with his cloak, his head low and his hood removed so he appeared like every other poor, tired worker of the city. At first, Haern didn’t know where he wandered, just let his instincts guide him. At one point, he’d promised the Wraith he’d investigate the city to learn its secrets, but there was nothing particularly striking or secretive about it. Everyone wanted power. Everyone wanted everyone else crushed underneath their heel. Even Alyssa wasn’t completely innocent, though her intentions seemed more noble than the norm with the wretched city.
To his surprise, when he stirred from his thoughts, he found himself staring up at the meager temple to Ashhur. His anger came and went, and despite himself, he entered. Logan was at the door, and he started to greet him until he saw Haern’s face. His skin paled, and he dropped the cloth he’d been using to clean the floor.
Haern held a finger to his lips.
“Not a word,” he said. “Go to Nole’s room, lock the door, and do not leave for an hour. Understood?”
The young man swallowed, and he nodded rapidly.
“Good.”
Logan scurried toward the back of the temple, with Haern following. Past the benches, Nole knelt, his head bowed in prayer at the altar. Normally interrupting such a private act would have bothered him, but Haern had no patience for the man’s piety, not this time. As Logan went rushing past, Haern hopped onto the bench beside Nole and leaned his weight on his heels. At the noise, the priest opened his eyes and looked up. His reaction was hardly any better than Logan’s.
“You,” he said, startling bad enough he fell to his rear. “Please, no, don’t kill me.”
