had become furniture already.
'And now?' Ghort asked.
'And now I wish I'd had Pella go eavesdrop.' The newcomers had begun by questioning the one-eyed man. If he had a name Hecht had yet to hear it. One-eye indicated one of the men Hecht had picked out earlier. The newcomers interrupted his before meal prayer.
The seated man was not pleased.
Hecht said, 'He didn't want them to find him in here.'
Ghort asked, 'You dug out anything that you haven't told me yet?'
'They pray a lot. That one told the redhead serving girl that he's a priest. From Ormienden. He didn't say from where.' Sublime's backers in parts of Ormienden were savage fanatics. Immaculate's were less determined but more numerous.
'Your basic godshouter is a shifty weasel, whatever his spiritual poison. But that guy and his pals look a little more so than usual.'
Hecht thought so himself. But he had found no way to learn more about them.
'Here comes another one.' Another supposed priest. 'There's one more, right?'
The newcomer seemed nervous. The deserters paid no attention.
Ghort related what he imagined was happening. 'My boys want their money. They're anxious to get on down the road. The paymaster is saying, relax. Don't attract attention. Anyway, it wouldn't be smart to get back out there on the road. There's some bad Night things prowling around north of here.'
Which was true. A blood-drained corpse had been found only miles away just that morning.
'My boys don't care. They've worked themselves into a lather, worrying about how awful their lives will get if Iron Bottom Ghort ever gets hold of them.'
'I'd be nervous myself.'
'You'd have reason… Uh-oh.'
'What?'
'The prayer brothers just sold them some snake oil. The money is hidden outside. The stable, probably. Some kind of crap like that. They're going to let the priests take them outside.' The deserters and their interlocutors rose.
'Can they be that stupid?'
'They signed on to set you up.'
'There is that.' That seemed more like overweening optimism, though. 'Let's don't let them get too far ahead.'
Ghort muttered, 'Shit. Timing. Here's your Imperial pal.'
Ferris Renfrow drifted into his habitual shadow. What had passed between him and Lyse Tanner? Why was he still hanging around? Did he have regular connections at the Knight of Wands?
'They are going out back. The stable or the outhouses.'
'Or the woods behind, if they're up to any real wickedness.' He thought Renfrow showed a flicker of interest in the four men. Then glanced from them to him.
Of course. Renfrow would want to penetrate his business if he could.
'No help for it,' Ghort muttered. 'Let's go. I wish it was busier tonight.'
The deserters were not complete fools. Both made sure of hidden weapons when their paymasters were not looking. Hecht saw Renfrow become more alert.
'You're right. Nothing for it.'
The path to the outhouses led through the kitchen area, dark, smoky, and filthy enough to silence hunger for days. A greasy, heavily furred fat man was loafing, dispiritedly chatting up a bored serving girl who had no interest in a game of slap and tickle. She was not more than three years older than Vali. The cook demanded, 'What's this damned parade to the jakes? Ain't nobody drunk enough to need a piss between them. You.' He pointed a sausage finger at Hecht. 'You ain't had a drink since you been here. That's unnatural.'
Ghort countered, 'It ain't the beer, brother. It's the rotten food all in a gassy hurry to get out the shit chute.'
The cook considered taking umbrage. It was not worth the energy. He would save himself for the serving girl.
Hecht said, 'She's probably his daughter.'
'Even so, can't say as I blame him for trying. She's got an interesting look.'
Pella materialized outside the back door. He whispered, They headed for the stables, Your Honors. With two other men. Ones that was staying here already.'
'Where's Vali?'
'Watching them.'
'Show us where they are. Then you and Vali get back inside. Go to bed. You'll need the rest. We'll be on the road again tomorrow.'
'This what you been waiting for?'
'Yes. Get moving.'
Pella led off like he could see in the dark. Hecht and Ghort eased along behind, Hecht wondering what had become of the third priest.
The stables were quiet. The stable boys were asleep and he animals snoozing. Even the rats seemed to have taken the night off. An utter lack of response from his amulet told Hecht that no supernatural threat was afoot. Meaning none had an interest in what was happening here.
Their quarry proved not to have gone to the stable itself but into the attached feed shed. A lantern burned there. Light leaked through unsealed walls. Ghort used touch and gesture to tell Pella to collect Vali and head back inside. To Hecht, he breathed, 'Keep alert. There's another one around somewhere.'
Hecht nodded. He eased up to peek through an uncaulked crack between horizontal logs.
The missing man was inside. He helped his friends move sacks of oats. The would-be assassins were more wary than the men paying off.
Interesting, Hecht thought. The holy men seemed inclined to play it straight. The deserters must have convinced them that everything had gone well.
Ghort breathed, 'I don't buy it. Those two aren't even the ones that were sent down there.'
Hecht squeezed Ghort's arm. They could talk later.
The three counted out silver to the two. There was a brief argument about whether or not the wages of dead conspirators ought to be paid. The deserters argued that the dead men had left families behind.
The paymasters offered half the agreed sum. Or nothing.
The deserters took what they could get. Hecht got the sense that their concern about the families of relatives now fatherless and husbandless was genuine. The plot may have been an extended family enterprise.
There was little talk, though the deserters did offer an account of the attack that failed to match what Hecht recalled.
Why were the paymasters so amenable?
Well, the deserters were no real threat since they could not know anything about these three.
The deserters pocketed their money and took off for the stable. They roused the stable boys and ordered their mounts readied. One boy protested. 'Them nags is plumb worn out. Yer killin' them. And yer don't want ter go ridin' round in the night, nohow. On account a they's banes on the road up north. An' thank 'e, Yer Honors!' The boy stopped having opinions. Hecht guessed that he had received a nice tip.
Hecht peeked through the feed-shed wall. All three priests were seated on sacks. After a joint prayer, one produced a
'I sent word. He'll handle it.'
Hecht became aware of Pella's continued presence. Irked, he said nothing. He did not want the boy to argue and give them away. He pulled Ghort closer, breathed, 'What do you think?'
'We need to move now. Never gonna get a better chance. They're cornered.'
But there were three of them, complete unknowns.
Ghort went first. He wanted to see their shock. When Hecht followed the three had just begun to rise in a
