Declan, Gavin’s apprentices, and Ovir stood inside a thick copse of trees just off the Tel Roshan road. The thick stand of trees was some seventy yards across, with trees and underbrush at the fringe more than sufficient to hide them from the Sivas’s guards. They examined a sketch of the estate’s layout, on which all the buildings on the diagram were crossed off, except the manor house itself.
“How did you come by this?” Mariana asked.
Declan smiled, saying, “Individuals friendly to our cause have infiltrated the estate. They have searched the entire compound, save for one location: the manor’s basement. Iosen has guards at the stairs down who permit only Iosen and specific others to pass.”
“That’s where we’ll find Gavin,” Ovir said. “When do we move?”
“We don’t,” Declan said. “I will enter the estate as part of the convoys due to arrive shortly. While everyone is focused on the unloading and cross-loading of the wagons, I’ll secure Gavin. You must be ready to begin as soon as my associate gives you the word.”
“We’ll be ready,” Ovir said.
Declan nodded and, turning to Gavin’s apprentices, said, “You do not need to be here. I would feel much better were the four of you back in Tel Mivar.”
“We’ve discussed this,” Lillian said. “Gavin is our mentor and friend. Our place is here. Besides, do you honestly think you can make us go back to the city?”
“Yes,” Declan said without hesitation, his expression stone, “but I have no wish to explain my methods to Gavin once he learned of them.”
Off to the west, a convoy of wagons and outriders crested a hill, coming from the direction of Tel Roshan. About the same time, another convoy came into sight traveling west from Tel Mivar, and these wagons and outriders found themselves escorted by the full roster of the Warpriests of Tel. A little over one thousand strong, the Warpriests of Tel rode in two columns of two on each side of the convoy.
Ovir grinned at the sight of the Warpriests, saying, “I hope those drovers appreciate our protection.”
Meanwhile, the convoy from Tel Roshan was turning onto the short road that led to the gates of the Sivas Estate. Declan moved off through the trees to a section that was closest the road, crouching behind the underbrush and waiting for his moment. Declan’s moment came in the form of a group of laborers trudging alongside the wagons. No one cared enough to say anything about the new man who joined their ranks.
“He makes that look so easy,” Mariana said, watching Declan until he slipped through the underbrush and out of their view.
A woman in matte black leather stepped up to Mariana’s elbow and said, “There are many who would say he is one of the best.”
Mariana jerked and turned to stare at the woman who had just ‘appeared,’ saying, “Where did you come from?”
The woman allowed herself a slight smile. “I have always been here,” she said. “I simply chose now to be noticed.”
Declan stepped inside the manor house and found it well-furnished. Tapestries hung on the stone walls, and carpets lined the wood-paneled floors. A grand staircase curved its way up to the second floor in the center of the entry hall, and windows allowed the late morning light to illuminate the dwelling. Declan could hear kitchen work-the crash of pots and pans, busy footfalls, and voices-in the distance.
Declan turned right from the main door and set off down the hallway. He arrived at a T-intersection and found the object of his search: a door flanked by two guards. The guards carried short swords and wore studded leather, and they leaned against the wall as they chatted. Neither one even looked up as Declan approached.
“Can you tell me where to find the kitchens?” Declan asked.
The two guards turned to look at him, frowning at the interruption.
“What?” one guard asked.
Neither guard had any reason to be concerned and were not watching Declan’s hands. Slipping small push daggers out of concealment, Declan thrust the blades-at a slight upward angle-into each man’s neck, severing their voice-boxes. Each man grabbed for the hand that held the blade, but the damage was already done. When he saw the fight leaving the man on his right, Declan took a quick moment to try the doorlatch, finding it unlocked. Declan then took each dying man in turn and pushed him backward down the stairs, and he closed the door as he descended into the basement.
Declan found himself at one end of a hallway that ran about fifteen feet before turning left. At the turn, Declan saw a door on the opposite side of the hallway.
“What was that calamity?” a voice said, drawing Declan’s attention to the approaching footfalls.
Declan scooped up one of the short swords and stepped to the corner. When the footfalls were very close, Declan stepped around the corner.
“Who are-” The man’s question no longer mattered; Declan opened the left side of his neck from front to back and pushed him aside to bleed out. The dying man’s salt-and-pepper hair suggested he was just starting to approach middle age, and he wore blood-spattered leathers.
Declan stepped through the open door ahead of him and stopped cold. Gavin hung from his arms between two stone columns, and for all Declan could tell from across the room, he was already dead. Cuts, bruises, and burns were the most common of the many injuries that covered Gavin’s body, and blood-tinged drool dripped from his jaw.
Declan crossed the room in haste and leaned close to the limp form of his friend. At last, Declan broke out into a smile. Gavin was breathing. It was faint and shallow, but he was breathing. Declan reached into the belt pouch on his right side, withdrawing a small sandstone disc. A red stripe ran across its center diameter, and he snapped it in half.
Out in the copse of trees, the woman standing at Mariana’s elbow gasped and clutched at her left wrist. She pulled back the sleeve of her leather jerkin and found the tattoo at her wrist glowing red. She lifted her head and spun until she found Ovir.
Ovir looked in the woman’s direction as she moved.
“He needs you now,” the woman said.
Ovir lifted his left arm, bringing the shield strapped there up as if to block an incoming blow. At the same time, Ovir also lifted the mace held in his right hand and struck the shield with it three times in quick succession.
At the gate, the captain of Sivas’s guard argued with the lead woman in the Warpriests when the sound of Ovir striking his shield echoed out of the woods. That instant, the woman snapped her fingers and gestured with her hand.
“Go!” she said. “Secure the estate with whatever force is necessary.”
“What is the meaning of this?” the guard captain said, as warpriests charged onto the grounds, fanning out across the entire estate.
The woman leading the Warpriest column looked down at the guard captain, saying, “Iosen Sivas is holding someone here against their will, and we have come to secure that person’s release. Valthon Himself has directed us to recover this person, and no one shall stand in our way.”
The guard captain looked up into the woman’s eyes, maintaining his silence for several moments. After a short time, the guard captain pivoted and locked his gaze on the guard standing in the watchtower on the western side of the gate.
The guard captain snapped his fingers and said, “Sound ‘surrender’ at once. No one is to resist the warpriests.”
By now, Ovir and Gavin’s apprentices reached the main gate, themselves on horseback. Ovir stopped just long enough to speak to the warpriest commander, saying, “I would prefer we find Iosen Sivas before any plain-clothed laborers or people in midnight black leather do. It will be better for all concerned if he’s in our custody.”