Leesil didn’t expect an honest answer, and nodded to Magiere as he headed for the door.
“I do not trust Most Aged Father,” Brot’an said, freezing Leesil in his steps. “No more than I would trust the Ancient Enemy to retreat into hiding. I would keep these orbs from them both. Wynn is driven by this purpose, and I would join her in it ... even if I must go through you.”
Brot’an shifted around Leesil in a lunge that forced Leesil to back up.
“What are you really doing here?” Brot’an echoed.
Leesil was momentarily rattled. Brot’an may have a bagful of other secrets, but in that smaller part where Most Aged Father was concerned, he was telling the truth. Leesil looked to Magiere.
She watched them both, and he clearly saw pain and fear in her dark eyes at Brot’an’s words. Like Leesil, Magiere had frozen in doubt. Only Chap remained as he’d always been concerning the master assassin. He rumbled, jowls pulled back partway.
Leesil hadn’t received even one recalled memory from Chap, and likely neither had Magiere. For all Chap’s hatred of the old butcher, he hadn’t tried to argue against Brot’an in any way.
Leesil realized how hard this night must have been for Chap. Chap cared deeply for Wynn, and he’d lost a daughter because of it.
They couldn’t go to Chane’s inn and drag Wynn away.
“What ...” Leesil tried to say. “What now, then?”
“A plan,” Brot’an answered, “to escape this city, once we have a destination.”
Leesil closed his eyes. Another journey, another orb, another journey, and then what? How many times would it repeat, the next time getting harder than the last? Even succeeding wouldn’t make anything better, likely only worse.
He felt Magiere’s fingers sliding into his palm, and he gripped her hand.
“If you are going to plan,” Leanâlhâm said almost too quietly to hear, “then Brot’ân’duivé and the majay-hì should eat while you talk.”
Again, the girl’s plain manner cut the tension by half.
Leesil pulled Magiere toward the hearth. Osha joined them next, and finally Brot’an. But Chap lay down in the middle of the room, facing away toward the door. Leanâlhâm brought him a plate, but he didn’t even sniff at it. Slowly, while Brot’an ate, they all began to talk.
“The city guard won’t be a problem,” Leesil said. “Those anmaglâhk are something else.”
Osha nodded. “They watch all ...” He faltered, switching to Elvish as he spoke to Brot’an.
“Exits,” Brot’an finished for him. “If they have enough, they will have someone watching any way out of the city.”
Leesil reached over and grabbed his pack and pulled out the talking hide, though at present, Chap showed no interest in conversation.
“Where will the anmaglâhk focus now?” Leesil asked, and then shook his head. “No, never mind. It doesn’t matter. Wherever we’re headed will likely be a long way off. That means a ship or a long trek over land. There’s only so much we can do until Wynn gets back.”
Brot’an nodded once. “The numbers of the anmaglâhk on your trail have dwindled, though I do not know their actual count. Another issue is that they will have word-wood devices—one or more. If so, once we are free of the city, and should they learn of our direction, they could report it to Most Aged Father. Though my people are a long way from here, he could still deploy more of his loyalists to intercept us ... again, depending upon our destination.”
Leesil hesitated at that one unique word—“loyalists.”
Brot’an, and even Leesil’s mother, Nein’a, were part of a long-standing and silent, dissident faction among the an’Cróan, including some among the Anmaglâhk. Had the situation in the Elven Territories now escalated further? It seemed unlikely that Brot’an would make such a slip. Or had it been intentional? And what was Leesil’s mother doing even now, somewhere across the world?
“Wynn said there are two orbs left,” Magiere put in. “We don’t know which one we’ll go after first. We’ll need to pick one before we even know where we’re going.”
“Unless we go after both,” Leesil added.
Magiere and Brot’an focused intently on him.
He already knew how this suggestion would affect Brot’an. Even now, the shadow-gripper was calculating what to do should they split into two groups. Leesil didn’t look at Magiere, as that would’ve invited another argument. He went on before she could start in on him.
“We have to get this over with,” he said. “And whichever orb is closest, those who go after it will have to stall for those who will make the longer journey.”
“How?” Osha asked. “Decoy?”
“No, at least not like the last,” Brot’an answered. “We gave them something hidden in plain sight that they could not resist looking into, something obvious to uncover. That will not work a second time.”
“Or ... we could be even more obvious,” Leesil countered. “Give them something so plain to see that in their panic, they won’t think to second-guess it.”
Magiere sighed in frustration, and Leesil knew she was sick of this roundabout approach. But Brot’an’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.
Only Leesil would’ve caught it while looking into those old eyes. As the master anmaglâhk nodded slightly in agreement, Leesil grew sick inside.
Once again, he found himself thinking too much like the old butcher—and he hated that. But if it got Magiere out of here alive, he could live with it.
Chapter 21
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, Wynn sat on the floor, tearing roasted mutton into small bits for Shade. Chane refused to let anyone leave the room, since only he had been seen around the inn. He brought back prepared food for the rest of them. Strangely, Ore-Locks ate little. Well, little for a dwarf.
Wynn had slept much of the day in the bed with Shade, as they were both exhausted. Ore-Locks had merely laid out a cloak in the corner of the room on which to rest. Fortunately, he didn’t snore much. Once, when Wynn had stirred, perhaps in the midafternoon, she’d glanced over the bed’s edge at Chane lying dormant directly in front of the room’s door.
She couldn’t help feeling there was something odd about him. He didn’t appear quite so ... dead, as he lay there. She’d then noticed his hand shift slightly where it rested on the hilt of his dwarven longsword still sheathed and laid out beside him. She’d never before seen Chane move in dormancy, not even slightly.
She was already awake again before sunset, as was Shade, who also glanced at Chane more than once. The moment it became almost fully dark at dusk, Chane sat up, rose, and went to wake Ore-Locks.
Shade wasn’t even startled. However, Wynn was.
She’d looked at Shade resting with her head on her paws. Although Wynn had nothing to base her suspicions upon, she couldn’t help wondering if Shade knew something about Chane that she didn’t—a silly thought. Of course, she didn’t ask either of them about this. What could she ask?
Then Chane had stepped out to see to the food, and the evening had moved on.
Shade wolfed down a whole pile of mutton bits in one bite.
“Don’t eat so fast,” Wynn scolded.
She didn’t care for mutton, but there were roasted potatoes, goat cheese, and dark forest bread to choose from. Chane stood at the window, looking down into the street, as Ore-Locks sighed and fidgeted in the corner.
“Do you think she’ll come?” Wynn asked.
“She will come,” Chane answered. “If the message reaches her.”
It was still difficult for Wynn to believe that Premin Hawes was willing to help. Though she kept such doubts to herself, a tiny part of her worried this might just be a way to track her down. But Chane seemed convinced, and he had a penchant—an actual gift—for knowing when someone lied, if he could focus on such detection.