He fought a grin that would probably only earn him another bruise.
Grayla was Shura’s contact in the stables at the King’s Guard barracks. Ostensibly, the reason Shura always went alone was because it was easier for only one of them to sneak in and out of the barracks without being spotted. Shura was by far the smaller and nimbler of the two of them—and better at lying her way out of sticky situations if she was caught—so of course, she was the better choice. It had nothing to do with the fact that Grayla was lithe and toothsome and happened to think Shura hung the moon.
He never knew exactly what went on during their “meetings.” He probably didn’t want to know. But Shura always returned with straw in her hair, a smile on her face, and information on troop movements, so who was he to question it?
“Of course. I’ll be fine,” he replied with mock cheer. “I’m tucked up all cozy in the inn, no reason to go out on this miserable night, right? Faret’s ale is as good as ever. I’ll have a couple more to keep me company until your return. Maybe I’ll go back to the common room for a while, get a feel for the atmosphere and see what I can overhear over a game of dice or cards.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “We have no money for the slavers’ market.”
He put a hand to his chest and widened his eyes. “Who said anything about the slavers’ market?”
“There is no reason to go there,” she continued sternly. “We get our information tonight and tomorrow, perhaps one day more for our other contacts. Then we go home, report, and possibly try to help those fleeing to Samebar in the coming weeks and months, which is a very worthy endeavor.” She paused, but when he didn’t say anything, she leaned forward, holding his gaze. “One more gifted won’t make any difference to the Scholomagi, and we have no money for their passage back with us anyway. Right?”
He lifted his tankard in salute and shoved the bitterness welling in his stomach down. “Right,” he replied firmly before tilting his cup against his lips, only to find it disappointingly empty.
When she continued to glare at him, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll be a good boy. I’ll catch up on some of that rest you’ve been going on about. If you’re not back by dawn, I’ll go to our meeting place and track backwards from there. I’m not a complete idiot, you know. I’ve done this a few times myself.”
“You are no kind of idiot,” she replied somberly. “You are only yourself, and I know that man well. We cannot save them all, and we cannot save any of them if we are dead or captured for no reason.”
“This is true,” he agreed.
She studied him for a few seconds more before shaking her head. “You will do as you always do, no matter what I say. But remember, if you are caught, I must try to rescue you. I am oathbound. I will not leave without you. It is my life you hold in your hands as well as yours.”
He flinched. She certainly knew how to make a hit count. He placed a dramatic hand to his chest. “You wound me. I will be good. I promise.”
One corner of her lips lifted. “I’ll never ask that. Just don’t get caught, and don’t take any pointless risks.”
“It’s a deal.”
She eyed him skeptically for a little longer before letting out an exaggerated sigh, rising, and collecting her cloak.
“Hey,” he called before she could step through the door. “You don’t get caught either. You’re the one doing the dangerous bit tonight. Don’t think you distracted me from that fact with your nagging.”
“We follow the plan as always. I am the careful one, remember? I do not let my passion lead me as you do.”
“Be sure to tell Grayla that during your ‘meeting,’ okay?” he replied, smirking.
Another glare and a cluck of her tongue were the only response he received before she pulled the door closed behind her, leaving him alone to stew in his thoughts.
AFTER LESS than an hour, he just couldn’t take it anymore. The swirling mess in his head drove him down to the common room, in hopes of finding some distraction. He scanned the late-evening crowd, searching for a likely game to try to join, but the atmosphere had turned from tense to somber. People sat huddled over their tables in quiet conversation, seemingly uninterested in encouraging newcomers to join them.
For the briefest of moments, he considered trying to find more private companionship for the night, but he abandoned the idea fairly quickly after another scan of the room. Pursing his lips, he leaned against Faret’s bar and drank deeply from the tankard he’d ordered. He’d known Faret a long time now, but the man discouraged too much open interaction with the people he “helped” so as not to draw suspicion. Daks couldn’t blame him, but the man was a good conversationalist in private, and Daks could have used some of that right now.
With another heavy sigh, he eyed the door to the street and pursed his lips. He could always take a walk down toward the docks and probably find someone along the way to take the edge off for a few coin instead… but as Shura had pointed out repeatedly, they didn’t have much coin to spare, and that sort of transaction wouldn’t really give him the distraction he was hoping for anyway.
Trying to be the good boy he’d promised he would be, he had Faret refill his drink and morosely returned to their room. After brooding for a while, he stretched out on one of the narrow beds and forced his eyes closed. Perhaps he’d finally had enough of Faret’s fine ale to numb some of the turmoil inside him so
