Jerrol looked at Tagerill. “They are slowly destroying the King’s power in the Watches. We need to find who is behind this. It is bigger than a power grab by Prince Kharel and the Chancellor; they are focused on the King and Vespers. This is more insidious, and it’s here in the Watches, and the Lady is the target.”
“We will find them, Captain. The Lady watches.”
“As the line protects,” Jerrol replied instinctively. “We’d better get on with it then,” he said, leading the way out of the stable.
They found Birlerion stretched out on a bed in their room, dozing. Jerrol dumped his bag next to a bed, and Birlerion opened his eyes. “Come on. There are a few hours of light left, let’s check if Torsion is here or if he’s up at the towers. Birlerion, you go and check us in at the council office. Tagerill, you visit the temple and the square. I’ll check the hostelries. We’ll meet at the tavern in the east corner of the square.”
They split up and began searching Velmouth.
Jerrol and Tagerill were first back to the tavern. They slid into a shadowy alcove, exchanging notes while they waited for Birlerion. “According to the smith, he came through about a month ago,” Jerrol said as he sipped his ale.
“I didn’t find any word of him. If he did stop here, he didn’t stop long.”
Jerrol tapped the table. “But in Stoneford they said he left three or four months ago, so where has he been?”
“Maybe he went straight up to the towers?” Tagerill suggested, watching the door. “Apparently, there is quite a pilgrimage to the towers lately. People travelling up there to be blessed by the Lady, or so the Father said. I’m not sure why the temple isn’t good enough; she’s more likely to be there than the towers.”
Jerrol relaxed against the wall. “Did the Father say why?”
“No, he kinda clammed up when some petitioners came in, but I did overhear him telling them another trip would take place tomorrow and they could book a place on the wagon at the council office. For a fee no doubt,” Tagerill said, with disgust. “It sounds like someone is trying to make some money on the side out of innocent people.”
“The council?”
“It will be interesting to hear what Birlerion has to say,” Tagerill murmured.
“Where is he? I didn’t expect him to take this long.” Jerrol shifted restlessly. “Maybe we ought to go find him.”
Crossing town, they kept to the main streets and soon arrived at the darkened council office. There was no sign of Birlerion.
It was a two-storey building clad in wooden planks, with an outside staircase leading up to a door on the second floor. The front of the building had wooden steps leading up to a verandah which circled the ground floor. The verandah was bare; no furniture or plant pots adorned it like neighbouring buildings. The front door had a sign pinned to it announcing that the office was closed, which explained the darkness downstairs. A solitary light glowed in the upstairs room.
Jerrol carefully circled the building, checking for guards and alternative entrances, but the stairs were the only way up. The drainpipes looked too flimsy even for his paltry weight. He ghosted up the steps to listen at the door. He heard movement within, but no voices. He was debating about entering when the decision was taken out of his hands as the door opened. The tall, dark-haired man jerked back in surprise at the sight of Jerrol with his hand raised to knock on the door.
The man cursed and reached for his sword and Jerrol launched himself at him, giving the man no time to react. Tagerill followed up Jerrol’s strike with a clip behind the ear from the haft of his dagger, and the man collapsed in a heap in the floor. Tagerill produced some cord and tied the man up.
“Who is he?” Tagerill patted the man down as Jerrol searched the room.
“A councillor, I assume, though from his reaction I would suggest we’ll find he’s one of these Ascendants.” Jerrol stared at the man’s thin face, committing it to memory; although he had never seen him before, his face reminded him of someone. His left eye was purpling nicely; someone had hit him, and recently.
“Ascendants were nothing like him. They had power, magic, and they weren’t afraid to use it.”
“They have enough power,” Jerrol said as he displayed five letters he found on the desk. “Look, the council is being suborned, the same as we found at the Grove. I bet they control everything in Velmouth. They are undermining the Watches, and no one noticed.” He tucked the letters in his jacket.
As he sat at the desk pondering, he noticed a skewed rug which was snagged on a slightly raised floorboard. He crossed the room and knelt, levering the board up with his dagger. He felt around the hole. Encountering the corner of a box, he lifted it out. Inside was a copy of a pamphlet praising the rise of Var’geris and a small black notebook listing names and words. He suddenly wondered what Nikols had done with the one he had found in Old Vespers.
The man on the floor groaned. Jerrol pocketed the pamphlet and notebook, shoved the box back into the hole and replaced the floorboard and rug. He sauntered over to the window to check the road before hitching one hip on the desk. They had been here too long.
“That wasn’t a very nice welcome, now was it?” Jerrol asked as he watched the man. “Do you always attack visitors as soon as they arrive?
