“Right,” said Praxle, a hint of daze still in his voice. He turned and grasped the handrail to pull himself back into the carriage.
“Master?”
“Yes?”
“I have considerable doubts that the prelate’s personal carriage would be a particularly inconspicuous conveyance for our departure.”
“Right.”
“I thought to set it ablaze here. My hopes were that the sun would set before the smoke became dense enough to notice from Ghalt. Obviously it is to our best interest that none notice the conflagration until the coach is well ablaze, lest it be identified. In the meantime, we shall press into town using the horses we rode to the monastery.”
“Where are they?” asked Praxle.
“I tethered them to the rear of the carriage just prior to our escape, master, I preferred not to leave the opposition with any advantageous equipment. Our tack, harness, and saddles are in the back of the coach. I shall have the horses ready to ride shortly.”
Praxle sat heavily on the step that folded out from the carriage door. “That sounds fine,” he said. Then, more to himself he mumbled, “Maybe I won’t dock your pay after all.”
“Pardon me, master?” asked Jeffers.
“Nothing, Jeffers,” answered Praxle. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”
8
Flight from Aundair
Darkness had fallen when Teron staggered into the outskirts of Ghalt, exhausted. He stumbled into the first guesthouse he saw, falling through the door more than walking through it. He placed his pack on the table then leaned back against the doorframe. Panting heavily, he threw a weary glance over at the proprietor.
“Great Sovereigns,” said the innkeeper, “what is that all over you?”
Teron let his head flop forward so he could look down. He looked back at the innkeeper, and his head fell back against the doorjamb with a thump. “Gnoll blood,” he said between gasps. “They … don’t listen.”
The proprietor thought about this for a moment, then an artificially cheery smile erupted across his face, “What can I bring you, stranger?”
“Broth. Whatever you have. Big bowl.”
The innkeeper hustled for the back. Teron pushed himself off the jamb and opened his satchel. A very woozy-looking cat stumbled out, panting. “Hold on, Flotsam,” said Teron, ruffling the cat’s fur.
Teron staggered around the room to keep his blood flowing as he tried to catch his breath. The place was largely devoid of customers, and those few present had little desire to interact with someone who looked like he had been hit by several buckets of blood. One young couple made a quick exit through the back.
A nervous serving boy arrived, carrying a large bowl of weak chicken broth. Teron sat, picked up the entire bowl, and drained most of it, downing several gulps between each panting breath. Once that was done, he set the rest down for Flotsam, who sniffed at it uncertainly. Teron called the boy back over and handed him a sovereign. “That’s yours if you bring me the innkeeper, a bowl of hot water, a towel, and a new shirt—all right away. And there will be more, if you’re very fast.”
The boy’s eyes grew wide, and he scampered into the kitchen, yelling for his father.
The owner ran out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron as he came. “What else can I do for you, my good man?”
Teron locked gazes with the older man, impaling him upon the intensity of his stare. “A gnome—about this high, wealthy clothes, pale hair and a thin beard about his chin—and a half-orc servant—tall, large, well-dressed, oiled hair—traveled this way. Did they stop here?”
“No. Ain’t seen anyone like that sort at all. No one wealthy here at all tonight, more’s the pity.”
“There’s the ruin of some sort of carriage about four miles east of here. Know anything about it?”
“I heard someone saying something about it earlier, but I didn’t pay no heed, being busy serving dinner as I was.”
The boy arrived with a large basin of hot water and slid it onto the table, spilling only a small amount. Teron stripped off his crusty tunic and started washing his hands and arms as the boy ran across the common room and up the stairs.
“Lightning rail. What’s the schedule?”
“Well, master, I do believe the next southbound run is—”
“No,” interrupted Teron. “Tell me which runs left most recently.”
“Well, let me see. The most recent northbound run would have left about an hour or two ago. The southbound run would have been about an hour past noon, I believe.”
Teron ducked his head and washed his face in the water, then wet his short-cropped black hair. When he raised his head again, he saw that the boy, panting, had placed two lumps of cloth on the table. Teron had to shake them out to figure out which was the shirt and which was the pathetic imitation of a towel. He dried off his chiseled torso and quickly donned the ill-fitting peasant shirt.
“Your boy. Reliable?”
“Aye, he is,” said the innkeeper nervously. The boy nodded, his eyes filled with awe.
“Good. Speaking stone in town?”
“Aye.”
“Paper and quill. Now. I need a message run to the stone station.”
The innkeeper snapped his fingers and turned around to smack the boy, but the lad was already off and sprinting to gather the supplies.
Teron flexed and stretched while the innkeeper fiddled with his apron and kept a fearful eye on the young monk’s routine. Flotsam snuck off into the kitchen.
The boy came back with a few pieces of cheap parchment, a frayed quill, and an inkpot, much of which had spilled onto the boy’s fingers in his haste. The innkeeper rounded on the boy. “Careless wretch! I should—”
“Smack that lad and you’ll be cooking left-handed,” said Teron as he smoothed out the parchment and dipped the quill. Then, as he started writing, he distractedly added, “Treasure your family while you have them.”
He scribbled the ink across the page, occasionally pausing to rewrite words that might have ended up illegible in his haste.
Captain of the Night Watch
Passage
Most Vital
Turn out a special detachment to the lightning rail station prior to the arrival of the Passage run, which arrives before midnight. Watch for a gnome named Praxle d’Sivis and a half-orc called Jeffers, both male. And two humans named Fox and Oargesha. May be traveling together or separately. Check all papers.
Should this not reach you in time, cordon the town, looking for anyone seeking to escape into the Eldeen Reaches.
Specifically, look for a black globe of two spans’ width. We urgently seek its recovery. Whosoever finds it and the thieves shall be generously rewarded.
Then, when he finished, he rubbed an impression of the prelate’s seal onto the paper.
“There.” Teron passed the paper to the boy and took the boy’s chin in his hand. “Take this to those who operate the speaking stone. This is for them,” he said, pressing a gold galifar into the boy’s hand, “and this is for you,” giving the lad another sovereign. “I want this in their hands before I finish my last letter. If it is not, you’ll wish it was only your father smacking you. Is that clear?”
The boy, too foolish or too amazed to be fearful, nodded. As soon as Teron released his grip, the lad turned and bolted out the door and up the road.
Teron took another sheet and wrote another letter at a more relaxed pace.
Captains of the Border Patrols
Starpeaks, Marketplace, Arcanix, Lathleer, Passage
Most Vital
At the behest of the Church of Aundair, you are to turn out additional forces to pay special attention to the borders. Look for Praxle d’Sivis, a gnome male; a half-orc called Jeffers, a male who acts as his servant; and two humans, named Fox and Oargesha. They may travel in a group or separately. Especially check the gnome and half-orc for papers; their papers were confiscated.