No one replied. No one had to.
"No matter what Hedi uncovered," Byrd continued, "her chance of reaching the lower levels and escaping are slim to none. Wynn's odds are worse. When Darmouth's men don't find Leesil here, he'll dangle the little sage piece by piece until you give yourself up."
Magiere pulled on Leesil's arm. "Then there's still time-"
"I said piece by piece," Byrd repeated. "Wait too long and not much of her will be left."
Chap lunged with a loud snap of his jaws.
Byrd sprang away toward the bar's end. Baron Milea turned white, hand on his saber's hilt.
Leesil lifted his hand to Chap. The dog held his place, but his growls came in sharp, fast breaths as he watched Byrd.
"Whatever Lady Progae thinks she's found," Byrd continued, "it has an entrance within the keep and an exit on the far shore. Leesil and I are the only ones who might locate a hidden exit in the forest. If you want my help, there'll be no more questions. Now, get your things… before the soldiers kick in my door."
The baron scowled, looking at each person present as if finding himself in the worst of company. He clearly wasn't used to ultimatums, but his hand dropped from his saber hilt in surrender.
"I must get Hedi out of there," he said.
The nobleman's determination puzzled Leesil. Why would one of Darmouth's remaining loyals risk so much for his bed slave?
Chap barked once, and Magiere pulled on Leesil's arm. "Gear up and I'll get our belongings. We're not coming back here, no matter how this ends."
Clover Roll hissed loudly from his tabletop and arched his back. Leesil followed the cat's eyes to the window.
One shutter was open no more than a hand's width. A large robin rested upon the sill, its head stuck through the space.
Clover leaped across the tabletops, straight for the window. In a flurry of feathers the bird vanished from sight. Clover hit the shutters, knocking them wide as he tumbled into the street with a yowl.
"Better let out all your cats,'' Leesil said to Byrd, and headed for the stairs behind Magiere.
Welstiel waited, observing Chane impatiently.
Chane looked deceptively peaceful, sitting cross-legged on the floor, hands on his knees. He'd finished washing the black from his hair and wore dark breeches and a tailored muslin shirt. The change brought the illusion of the young Noble Dead that Welstiel had met back in Bela.
The illusion shattered as Chane gasped and fell forward, catching himself with his hands.
Welstiel crouched down. "What's wrong?"
Chane looked about, disoriented. It wasn't uncommon when he roused from sinking his awareness within that of a familiar.
"Cat… large cat,' he rasped, and looked at Welstiel with feral anger in his eyes. "Darmouth has Wynn and he will torture her to get Leesil. We are getting into the keep-now!"
"Control yourself,' Welstiel ordered, "and tell me what you heard and saw."
Chane leaned forward on his hands, and for an instant Welstiel grew wary that his companion might lunge.
"Leesil… and your precious Magiere are going to try to breach the keep," Chane whispered, "and go after Wynn. Soon they may all be inside with Darmouth and his forces."
"What? Magiere should be preparing to hunt you."
The shadow of a thin smile crossed Chane's face, but his eyes held no amusement. He recounted all he had seen and heard through his bird, from the moment of Emel's arrival, to Leesil reading Lady Progae's letter aloud, to the paunchy stray cat diving for the familiar.
Welstiel settled on the bed's edge.
An assassination attempt would be made on Darmouth, leaving Leesil with no other avenues to search for his parents. He would leave, and therefore so would Magiere. But now she was hunted by the Darmouth and running straight into the warlord's hands.
"We go now," Chane repeated. "Either to the forest to trail them or…
Welstiel shook his head and ran a hand over his face, pulling back his hair.
"No. If they find the exit for this rumored passage, we could not follow unseen and unheard. I will go to the bridge gatehouse and say that I have information regarding Magiere's whereabouts. Darmouth will be eager to hear this. You will pose as my manservant and keep your hood up. Once inside we will break away, but no bodies must be left visible. We assist Magiere from the shadows, as we did in Apudalsat."
Chane stared into the dark corner of the room. It was obvious his addled mind was not on Magiere's safety but rather on Wynn.
Getting out of the city gates wasn't as difficult as Magiere had expected.
She paid the stable bill for Port and Imp, packed their belongings in the wagon, and everyone climbed in. With their hoods up, almost no one gave them notice on the night streets. A small band of soldiers tried to question them, but Baron Milea pulled his hood back and ordered them off. The sergeant in charge nodded respectfully and waved his men out of their way.
Their first stop was the Bronze Bell. Emel went up to his room while Magiere took everyone else to wait with the wagon at a nearby stable. She was slightly surprised when he returned with a chest and several canvas sacks of soft goods.
He'd gathered all of his belongings.
The bleary-eyed stable master brought out the baron's horse and a second mount with a lady's flat saddle, likely intended for Hedi Progae. There was no sign of personal guards or retainers.
This confirmed Magiere's guess. Emel planned to take his consort and run, likely for the Stravinan border. For all the worthless elites she'd met it was strange in this fear-filled land to see a nobleman ready to abandon his way of life for someone else.
Emel gathered canvas tarps and loaded them in the wagon's back. He looked up at Magiere.
"Soldiers at the city gate are looking for a dark-skinned man with white-blond hair." Emel didn't look at Leesil, but a grimace of distaste crossed his features. "And now they will be on watch for a black-haired woman with a wolf. Some may know Byrd. I will ride up front with you, but the others must hide in the back."
He held out a wool dress, and Magiere stared at it.
"Hedi is smaller than you, but you should still fit into this," Emel added. "At least enough to pass with your cloak over it. The gate watch will hesitate to question a noble escorting a lovely woman out of the city."
Leesil nearly hissed. "It pays to be among Darmouth's favored, doesn't it?"
"Better than doing his dirty work," Emel returned with equal venom.
Leesil sat up but only returned Emel's glare.
"That's enough from both of you," Byrd snapped. "Magiere, put on the dress, and Leesil, you keep quiet."
Magiere wasn't certain how much the baron knew of Leesil's past. If Emel had been a member of Darmouth's inner circle in Leesil's youth, he would certainly have his suspicions concerning Gavril and Nein'a, and thereby their son.
She unbuckled her sword and laid it under the wagon's bench, then took the dress from Emel, not caring for how all this was playing out. Since the moment Wynn had been captured, Magiere had felt out of control. Leesil hadn't been himself since entering the Warlands, and pain emanated from him no matter how silent and cold he might act. Now they trusted their lives and Wynn's to one of Darmouth's inner circle and a two-faced spy with a soft spot for cats.
"Aren't you bringing your men?" Byrd asked Emel. "The gate guards might find it odd, your leaving without an escort."
"Involving my men would make things too political," Emel answered. "A lone noble with a woman only gives the guards something to snicker about. They will assume I'm returning later, but Hedi is all that matters to me now.'
Magiere climbed down and walked into the stable's back stall. She tried to slip the dress over her clothes. It caught on the hauberk, so she removed that and tried again. The dress was too tight. She took off her wool pullover, then had to remove the shirt as well. Glancing nervously over the stall's partition, she shivered in the cold air. She pulled the dress over her head, leaving her breeches and boots on. The dress was too short and barely closed in front, but with her cloak on and perhaps a blanket over her legs, it might do.