I left the thought unfinished, because I hadn’t really considered the consequences of the suggestion, and when I did, it was impossible to say them out loud.
Braylar seized on it immediately. “A ripper running free would cause chaos. The very kind to draw the attention of every city guard in the quarter.”
Mulldoos nodded. “Like to kill a few folks, for certain. Anybody who wasn’t would be heading for the gates right quick. Brune couldn’t double his damage by impeding them neither.” He smiled, showing several shockingly white and uneven teeth. “That’s vicious, scribbler. Right vicious. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He turned back to Braylar. “Wish I’d thought of it myself, but it’s plaguing perfect.”
Braylar agreed. “Near to it. See it done.”
Mulldoos’s looked at me again, but something akin to grudging appre ciation instead of the ready disgust that so often sat there. He saluted his captain and headed to the door.
When I blurted out the suggestion, I had an image in mind of the beast running loose, roaring, scaring everyone in the city, but foolishly, I hadn’t imagined that it would be killing as it went. But of course it would. It attacked a boy through the bars-if it had run of the city, even for a short time before the watch or soldiers cornered it and took it down, surely more bodies or pieces would be left in its wake.
I felt my stomach twist and said, “Captain, about the ripper, I-”
“Very clever, Arki. Exceedingly, truth be told. Mulldoos is right-a surprisingly cold and calculating design. You have been in our company too long already, I fear. You are becoming more Syldoonian than the Syldoon.”
He clapped me on the shoulder and turned to head back to his quarters when he heard a voice that stopped him short. Soffjian’s. “Brother, I must say, I hadn’t expected such compliance. In fact, I was prepared for the likelihood that I was going to need to repeatedly remind you of the Emperor’s very limited leniency. And yet here I discover you and your men scrambling around as if in preparation for an invasion. Curious.”
The captain turned around, making no special pains to remove the sneer from his face. “Nearly as curious as you appearing here before the dawn.”
“You weren’t trying to leave without me, I hope. The Emperor and Commander Darzaak were quite clear. Skeelana and I escort you to the capital. The entire way. And as to my sudden, and early, arrival, surely you haven’t forgotten-”
“You have your ways. Of course. And of course I could not possibly have forgotten. So let us both dispense with the theatrics, sister. You know we are preparing for an unexpected fight. There is very good reason to believe our enemies are moving against us this morning. Very soon, in fact.”
Soffjian drove the butt of her ranseur into the floorboards. “Oh, dear. And what enemies are those?”
Without missing a beat, Braylar replied, “The kind that carry swords and grudges, my dear. And they will be upon us presently if we are not on the move. So, as I can see you are already armed and fed, you are welcome to join us. In an Imperial escort capacity, of course. I would never expect Memoridons to get involved in a conflict not of their making. Or you can remain behind and take the Fair in for a few days. Catch up after, as I know you are infinitely capable of. But either way, my men will be leaving without me in a moment, which would hardly be very captain-like of me. So if you’ll excuse me, I have some martial matters that require my attention.”
Soffjian didn’t look particularly satisfied with that response, but wasn’t prepared to push the issue either. I had the feeling she was trying to determine if her brother was playing her in some fashion. Which, if true, was a healthy skepticism to have. I would have been better served with a healthier dose of it myself along the way.
She nodded and bowed ever so slightly. I wasn’t sure if that was appropriate or mocking and Braylar gave no indication. “If it’s all the same to you, I will accompany as you leave to meet your foes. And do my best not to get in the way. If you’ve seen one grand Fair, you’ve seen the rest, true?”
Soffjian didn’t wait for his response and left the room, deftly sidestepping a Syldoonian soldier coming through the door. Braylar looked at me and my possessions. Much less than most men, but too much for one horse. He said, “Store your extra clothes and writing supplies in a wagon in the stable, and be quick.”
“It sounded as if it might be a few days before we meet up with them again. Should I bring my writing desk with me? I’d like to, if that’s fine?”
Braylar replied, “As you wish. If I give you a crossbow, do you think you can avoid shooting your horse, yourself, or one of my men if you ride with us into combat?”
At hearing “combat” I resisted the urge to swallow hard or shift my weight from one foot to the other. “The last time I had one, Captain, I managed to distract one of Henlester’s men long enough for you to kill him. And hit a horse. Though that was even luckier than nearly hitting you and the guard. So, does that count as acquitting myself well enough to handle one again?”
The words were out too fast, and I almost started to apologize and recall them as he stared at me before saying, “Stow your gear then, Cross-bowman Arkamondos. And I will arm you once more.”
It seemed the more I was around the measured and calculating captain, the more rash and impulsive I was becoming. Not a very good combination.
I started toward the door and he said, “Stay close to Vendurro. I gave him no explicit instructions to keep you safe, but I suspect he actually likes you, so he might protect you a bit. I would advise you to stay near me, but I will be in the thick of it, and will have no patience for you if you get in the way.”
With that lukewarm assurance, I headed out of the common room, forcing myself not to look around to take it in a final time. It wasn’t so very special, and it seemed to invite ill luck. It would be my final time here regardless, but there was also utter finality, and I didn’t want to dwell on that possibility. I walked quickly though the door and made my way down the stairs, nearly colliding with another Syldoon, moving around him only half as smoothly as Soffjian had managed. I’d never felt particularly dexterous, but this crew made me feel clumsier and less sure of my footing than at any other point in my life.
Unlike the Three Casks in Rivermost, the Grieving Dog didn’t let commoners pay half-rent to sleep on the common room floor, but Gremete was up. As the owner of the inn, she probably rose before dawn most days, anyway. She was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her meager chest, and didn’t look particularly happy about the very early traffic of soldiers going up and down the stairs, but it didn’t appear to be the irritation of someone roused from sleep.
Braylar leaned over the railing above, his mail and lamellar and weapons jingling, if such deadly accoutrement could be said to jingle. “My apologies for the disturbance, Lady Proprietor. The lodging has been exemplary, on the whole.”
Had she been in a smaller city, or a road inn, seeing armed men moving early might have given her pause or concern, but Gremete seemed entirely nonplussed. “And you’ve been a good patron. Exemplary might be a bit strong, but you never stiffed me, were tidier than most, and minded your manners. On the whole. For soldiers.” She had mastered the half-amused, half-exasperated tone that could have only come from being a mother.
This wasn’t lost on Braylar, who smiled, more genuinely and longer than normal. He walked down the stairs, gloved hand still grazing the bannister ever so slightly, making a slithering noise as he went. When he reached the bottom, he tossed a small pouch jingling with coins. Gremete caught it, and though never having been stiffed, seemed in no hurry to begin now. She opened it and thumbed through the coin, squinting in the scant light. Then she looked up at Braylar. “I’m better with sums than most, but it looks like you overpaid a bit. More than a bit, truth be told. Looks to be about double what you owe. Something I should be worried about?”