little we can do there. Damn it! I had such wonderful plans to make him pay for Will’s death. At the very least, I need Maynard to die tonight.”
They ran side by side, both panting from the exertion. When he reached the mansion, he saw a few of the Wolf Guild scattered about, keeping an eye on the roads. Cynric stood in one of the windows of the nearby homes. He cupped his hands to his mouth and howled.
“That man needs his head nailed tighter to his neck,” Thren mumbled. The two of them hurried through the door to find the guildmaster waiting.
“We’ve seen the smoke,” Cynric said. “Do you know anything about it? We hoped for a runner or two to clarify, but no one’s showed.”
“We know as little as you then,” Thren said. “Damn. At least we know their mansion is destroyed. Have you seen anything here?”
“Not a hint of prey,” Cynric said. “Rather boring, really. We almost went to join the feast at Connington’s. Hopefully you’ll remember that when the killing starts. We deserve a leader’s share.”
Thren left the house, Kayla trailing after him. He walked through the open gate and into the mansion. Kadish was waiting for them.
“I was wondering when you’d return,” the man said. “I’ve been wanting a straight answer about what to do with him.”
He pointed to where James Beren lay slumped against a wall, his arms and legs bound tight. His eyes were open, but his mouth was gagged. Thren tilted his head as he thought.
“Is the Ash Guild broken?” he asked.
“We’ve killed all but a few,” Kadish said. “We’ll hunt down who we can, but most will just sign on with other guilds, including mine. They’re done.”
“Good.” Thren turned to James and drew his sword. Kneeling down, he removed the gag from his mouth and smiled.
“Do you see what happens when you resist me?” he asked. James nodded, his face bruised and purple. Thren stood and looked to the many members of both the Spider and Hawk guilds standing about. “Do you all see what happens when you resist me?”
They nodded. In response, Thren turned and rammed his shortsword through one of James’s eyes. His face locked in a vicious snarl, Thren twisted the blade and then yanked it free. Gore splattered across the floor.
“Do you see now?” he asked them.
He cleaned the blade, sheathed it, and then turned to Kadish.
“Get your men ready,” he said. “The Wolf Guild will surround them and cut off any retreat once they’re within the outer gate. We’ll crush them between us, all of them. We end this tonight!”
Kayla followed him back outside as he walked toward the gate’s exit.
“Where are you going now?” she asked.
“To get my son,” he said. “The priests should be done with him by now. I want him to watch our victory.”
“But Maynard may already approach,” Kayla insisted. “We don’t have time for you to go looking for him.”
Thren snapped to a halt and turned. Kayla felt her heart stutter as she realized the mistake she’d made.
“Why would I need to go looking?” he asked. “Or do you know of some reason he would have left their compound?”
Kayla tried to think of a lie, any lie. But Thren was staring at her, his eyes fierce and unflinching. She felt her resolve breaking. The whole night had been one nightmare after another. Before the Spider Guild, she might have watched the night’s events and passed them along for coin. Being involved was a wholly different beast, and she hated it.
“Aaron broke out,” she said, deciding truth was her only chance to live. “He resisted their attempts and met with me on the rooftops.”
Thren stepped closer toward her. She noticed the subtle drop of his hand toward the hilt of his shortsword.
“And you never told me this why?” he asked.
“He’s dead to you,” she said. “He told me so. You’ll never see him again.”
“Why did you not tell me!” he screamed, not caring that the different guilds were watching.
“Because he deserves better,” she whispered, a tear running down the side of her face.
“Better?” asked Thren. “Every living man and woman would soon quake in fear of his name. He would be a killer even greater than I. He was so close to perfect, so close, but now he’s gone. Not your place, Kayla. It was never your place.”
Please, Kayla prayed as she stood straight and waited. Make this mean something, Haern. I beg you.
Thren cut her down with a single stroke of his shortsword. He stood over her body, his shoulders slumped and his jaw trembling. Everything was crumbling. The fire at Connington’s. His son’s betrayal. He still had the naked bell’s attempt on the king, plus Maynard. The night was not a total loss, not yet.
He returned to the mansion to wait. There was no point in searching for Aaron, not then. When things calmed, he’d scour the city, search under every rock and look into every hole if he must. But not yet.
“What in Karak’s name did she do?” Kadish asked when Thren returned.
“She hid things from me,” Thren said. “Now see to your men. The Kensgold ended not long ago. They should return within the hour.”
Kadish shrugged.
“Alright, then. Shame about that bitch, though. She was a cute one.”
Remembering how that cuteness had helped corrupt his son, Thren snarled and struck the wall with his fist.
“Or not…” Kadish said before going from Hawk to Hawk ensuring their readiness for the ambush.
M aynard Gemcroft knew something was afoot when Laurie disbanded the Kensgold early, but he wasn’t sure what. His wife’s absence was conspicuous, but that wasn’t something he could know for certain. Leon had no shortage of grumblings and complaints, calling Laurie every possible name for a bad host, plus a few more that he probably made up on the spot.
Then they saw the fire and knew the thief guilds had chosen that night to play. By the smoke, he guessed it to be Connington’s home. The fat man had stood outside the giant pavilion, swearing up a blue storm at the sight.
“They torched my home?” he asked after a minute to compose himself. “Those…those…imbeciles torched my home? I’ll gut them all. I’ll piss on their heads, rape their ears, feed their pricks to swine, and have them rape them too.”
“Go to your home, and go well-protected,” Maynard had told him. “The streets are not safe for us, no matter how many soldiers walk with us.”
With over six hundred armed men at his side, Maynard still felt insecure on his march home. Trailing after the six hundred was a tail of several hundred more, servants and dancers and singers wanting their pay or some beds to rest in. Maynard knew that many more wagons would come throughout the night, carrying whatever remained of his goods to sell, along with a handsome amount of gold. He’d left another two hundred to guard the wagons, but he wasn’t worried about theft. It was fire that worried him.
When they reached the mansion, Maynard felt his heart sink. The outer gate was open. All throughout the yard were massive holes from the trap spells he’d had a trio of wizards cast. No bodies remained, though he was certain from the wreckage that many must have died.
“What are your orders?” Maynard’s mercenary captain asked him.
“They must have looted while we were gone,” Maynard said. “The same probably happened to Connington. Yet why did they not burn it down?”
“A trap,” the mercenary said. “That is all that makes sense.”
Maynard glanced back at the rest of his men. He had the makings of a small army with him. What would they say if he fled to Keenan or the rolling hills, all in fear of a few rogues in his own house? His reputation had already suffered greatly from the war with the thief guilds. Whatever they had planned, he would not back down.
“Take four hundred of your men and scour my home,” Maynard ordered. “Leave the rest to protect me and my servants.”
