Swann stared for several moments. “Fine. I'll do it.”
Rayna lowered her sword and beckoned Katrine over. Rayna nodded to Roxen.
“Hurt either of them,” Roxen growled, “and I’ll take you apart piece by piece.” He released Swann’s hands, but kept his claws by Swann's neck.
Swann raised his hands slowly to Katrine’s Monil. As he touched the black metal, he closed his eyes, concentrating. A white seam appeared in the metal band, and it came apart with a soft click. It dropped to the cobblestones.
Rayna picked it up. She handed it to Channon before taking Katrine’s place in front of Swann. A moment later, blessed relief filled Rayna as her wolf-senses returned. The city’s sour stench dulled her relief somewhat, but still, she was whole again.
“We need to leave,” Cassian repeated. “Mina, you will lead the way to this hideout of yours?”
She nodded. “Traveling together in a band like this is sure to attract notice. My spot’s not far—I’ll take a few at a time and return for another group.”
“That’s dangerous,” Roxen protested. “You’ll be taking an extra risk yourself with each trip.”
She shrugged. “Better I take on a bigger risk than we all do.” She smiled at him. “I can take care of myself, you big lug.”
“I know, but—”
“Mina’s right,” Daveed said.
With the plan decided, Mina took the first group—Katrine and the trues—out into the city.
Channon manacled Swann’s hands again.
The traitor knelt on the cobblestones. “You’re just as likely to kill me by accident, you know. Why not let me go?”
“You’re fortunate I’m giving you a chance at all, Swann,” Rayna growled. With each passing moment, her unease grew. Finally, a quarter hour later, Mina returned.
“The little wolf and her beastly companions are safely stashed. Who’s next?”
The Maenorens and Roxen went next, after unsuccessfully attempting to convince Rayna to go. She would not leave until she knew her friends were safe, and besides, Swann was her responsibility.
Once Mina and the other men had left, Channon and Rayna were alone in the alley with Swann.
Rayna prepared her strike. She would hit him in the temple with the hilt of her sword. With her wolf senses, it would be nearly impossible for Swann to fake unconsciousness. Just in case, they would tie his feet and gag him, too. Someone would find him, eventually, but by that time they would be long-gone. Or, so she hoped.
“Wait.” Channon took her hand. “Let me.”
“But—”
Channon’s claws extended as he raised his right arm.
“What?” Swann struggled to rise from his knees, his hands tied. “I surrendered! She swore. You’re Fenearen you—”
“Channon, no!” Rayna grabbed his arm and tugged it down. “I hate him, too. But he’s not a threat anymore. He’s on his knees. It’s over!”
Channon pushed her off with unexpected force. In one fluid motion, he struck his claws across Alec Swann’s throat.
Blood spattered Channon’s face as Swann fell forward, a would-be scream gurgling in his mangled throat.
Rayna blinked. Blood pooled around Swann and they had to step back to avoid ruining their boots. “Channon…”
“I know you promised to be merciful, but he didn’t deserve your mercy.”
“Of course he didn’t, but it was still mine to offer!”
He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t. He would have betrayed us at the first opportunity.”
“I know, but his death changes nothing. We’re still trapped here. The Council is coming for us regardless.”
“He hurt you.” Channon gripped her wrists, steadying her. “I couldn’t let him live.”
She pulled away. “So, you killed him because you wanted revenge?”
“Yes.” Channon spoke with certainty and no remorse. His cornflower blue eyes brightened, contrasted with the crimson blood splashed across his skin.
She reached forward, trying to wipe it away. “We need to clean—clean you up.” She blinked away tears.
“Rayna, tell me you understand.” He poured water onto his face from his waterskin. The blood dripped down in fat pink drops.
Channon wiped his face. “Do I look all right?”
She blinked rapidly. The blood was gone. She nodded, but her gaze drifted back to Swann’s corpse.
He'd been a despicable man. He had deserved far worse than a quick death, but still, killing him had not been necessary.
Rayna recalled a different day, months earlier, when she had killed her first human. He’d been a Council Guard—one of Terayan’s men. The shock of human blood and skin between her teeth had been too much for her. She’d frozen.
But not Channon. He’d killed six men, seemingly without a pause. During the battle that followed, they’d both killed countless others; such was the nature of war. But they weren’t on a battlefield anymore.
Did Channon know that?
“Rayna—”
A sharp whistle cut him off as Mina re-entered the alley. “What happened here?”
“I killed him,” Channon said.
“Hm. Can’t say I’m sorry. Did he try to escape?”
Rayna almost lied for Channon, but he did not give her the opportunity.
“No.” Channon took Swann by the ankles, careful to avoid the blood, and dragged him behind a stack of crates.
Mina shrugged.
Of course, she was not Fenearen. She did not have the same code of conduct. Maybe she saw nothing wrong in Channon’s actions.
“We better go,” said Mina. “The Harbor Guard is all over that little scene we left behind. By now they have the real Council Guard involved, too.” She peeked around the alley’s walls, motioning for them to follow.
As they did, Mina whispered from the corner of her mouth. “Walk quickly, but not too fast. We’re a couple of Kyreans walking to a tavern.”
“One of whom has red hair, distinctive scars, and Fenearen clothing,” Rayna whispered back.
Channon was disguised and Mina could blend in, but Rayna stuck out like a fox among field mice.
They made their way across the uneven cobblestone for some time. Rayna was surprised by the hilliness of the terrain. The ground had not been leveled like she had seen in Kanton.
One moment, they were high enough to glimpse the gleaming Upper City where the Councilors and other nobles resided, and the next they were down deep in the drudge of the slums. It was clear that the lower town had not been planned. It had grown on its own organic accord around the Upper City.
Halmstead had bred like a mold, random and stinking.
At the crest of one particularly tall hill Mina stopped to take a breath. Her hazel eyes scanned the horizon, resting on the skyline of the Upper City. “Been up there once. I swear the chamber pots are made of polished silver.”
“Why were you up there?” Channon asked as he followed her gaze.
Mina chuckled to herself. “Why to dance for the nobles, of course.”
“Why would the nobles be interested in your dancing?”
Rayna shot Mina a meaningful look. “Mina is quite the talent, right Mina?”
She shrugged. “Not really. Unless you count my inability to feel shame a talent.”
Rayna rolled her eyes as Channon reddened with understanding.
They turned a corner. Beggars dotted the walls, some barely old enough to walk. Carts carrying all manner of strange food rolled past them, their owners calling out their wares.
As one passed selling leg of lamb, Rayna’s stomach reminded her that she hadn’t had a proper meal in days. She pressed on, ignoring the delicious—if burnt—scent of meat.
They turned down another street, this one sloping toward a court surrounded by multistory wooden buildings. It was not yet midday, but a few drunks stumbled from door-to-door.
Mina took them to a faded red tavern with a boot shaped sign reading: The Peddler’s Toe
.
Rayna sucked in a breath as they entered, remembering the welcome the last time she’d entered such an establishment.
As it turned out, she much preferred The Toe. It smelled of bread, ale, and woodsmoke—not her favorites, but cleaner than the Stag and Arrow.
Roxen, Daveed, and Cassian stood from a table.
Katrine sat on the floor by the fire with the True Wolves.
Looking around at the various tables, stools, and the bar, Rayna saw no other patrons. Whether this was by fortune or design, she couldn't say.
“Thank the gods.” Roxen clasped Rayna and Mina on the shoulders. “We’ve all made it here, at least.”
“And what a treat it is,” an unfamiliar voice drawled from the room behind the bar. An older woman—soft-bodied with gray-streaked hair—appeared in the doorway. “Nothing like having to close at noon.”
At first Rayna tensed, but then she saw the smile in the barkeeper’s eyes.
It widened as Rita approached them, taking Mina into her arms.
“But then I’ve always been a batty old fool when you were involved, Mignonette. Tell me girl, did you find what you were looking for?”
Mina hugged her back. “No, but I found something better.”
It was a curious exchange, but it was not the time to ask Mina what Rita had meant.
As they pulled apart, Rita eyed Channon and Rayna. “These are the last of your friends, then? Come, come, sit down.” She guided them to the long table and benches where Cassian and Daveed sat, looking downcast.
“Wait here.” Rita returned to the kitchen.
“Are we really safe here?” Channon asked. His hand rested next to Rayna’s.
Cassian nodded. “As safe as we can be. Rita shooed away the few diners that were here, and is closing for the day. We compensated her, of course.” Cassian lacked his usual animation. His words limped out stiffly.
“Cassian,” Rayna said, “I’m sorry about your men.
He gritted his teeth. “They aren’t my men. They aren’t soldiers—they’re innocent Maenorens—textile traders we led to their dooms, because of you.”
Rayna pulled away, stung. She had not asked for anyone to come after her, least of all Maenorens. As a twice-blessed seer, she had a responsibility to act when the gods sent her a vision.
But, she had to admit, had she done what Silver and Channon had wanted and ignored the dreams, none of the terrible things they'd endured over the past week would have happened. Why would the gods torture her with broken dreams, guiding her to what everyone believed to be a hopeless task? They had never steered her wrong before.
As Rayna glanced back at Cassian's stony face, she wondered, again, if she was the problem. Had she misinterpreted the vision, and put countless lives in danger for nothing? Was she succumbing to madness as her ancestors had done, and taking innocent people with her?
No.
Rayna could not believe that. The dreams—fractured and painful as they were—were always the same. Kellan was imprisoned. Lumae told her to help him. What other explanation could there be? Despite everything, she had made it this far. She could not turn away from her duty, or her friends, now.
Channon growled, returning Rayna to the present situation. “It isn’t her fault.”
“Isn’t it? We’re all here because of her and them.” Cassian pointed to Mina and Katrine.
“Cassian, that’s enough,” Daveed said.
He snorted his disagreement, but fell silent as Rita returned with a crock of stew and a stack of bread trenchers.
Mina and Roxen stood, helping Rita serve the others.
Katrine walked over from the hearth, sniffing the air. The only remaining seat was next to Cassian. She took it slowly, eyeing the Maenoren as if he might bite.
He paid her no mind, focusing instead on the food set before them.
Pike and Gar padded over, but kept their distance from Rita. Rayna guessed they did not want to frighten her.
“Ah,” Rita said. “I almost forgot.” She bustled back to the kitchen, returning with two plucked, but uncooked, pheasants. “Will this do?”
Pike and Gar licked their lips in reply.
Rita did not need to speak Wolven to understand. She walked over to them, fearlessly handing them each one of the birds.
Rayna decided she liked Rita.
The same could not be said for Rita's cooking. But, Rayna was too hungry to care. She scarfed down the stew. It had far too many vegetables and spices for her liking, and all the taste had been boiled from the meat, but it was food. She suspected Channon, Katrine, and Roxen felt the same way, but they were too polite to ask for some of what Pike and Gar were having instead.
“I’ll be upstairs readying the rooms if you need me,” Rita announced before disappearing through another door.
“This woman.” Roxen turned to Mina where she sat beside him. “We can trust her?”
“Rita’s one of the good ones. She took me in when I was a skinny little runaway. She wouldn’t betray us,” Mina said.
“So what’s the plan?” Channon asked Cassian and Daveed. “Seperun said that you two had a way of communicating with him?”
Cassian reached into his pocket, revealing a bronze locket inscribed with Heitich runes. “I can send a message to the Regent using this. It’s spelled so that whatever I speak into it, can be heard by its sister locket.”
“Good,” said Channon. “Tell him what happened to our ship and see how long it will take for him to send another.”
Cassian nodded. “It will be easier to send a message if I'm alone. It takes concentration. What should I say we intend to do until he arrives?” he asked when he reached the kitchen door.
“For now,” Roxen said, “we eat and rest.”
Roxen's attempt to delay the inevitable argument would not last.
The men and Trues had come with the intention of stopping Rayna, Mina, and Katrine from assisting the Sylrians.
But Rayna had no intention of being stopped. The others might not understand her duty as a seer. Channon, Roxen, and the Trues only wanted to keep her safe. She could not blame them for that, anymore than she could blame Cassian for his venom toward her. But no matter how she longed to ease her friends' suffering, Lumae's quest had to be completed.
They ate in relative silence. After the last scrap of sustenance was stripped from the crocks and birds, Rita returned from upstairs. “You are all fans of my cooking I can see.”
Thank you's and laughs came from all around as they stacked the bowls.
“Rita, I was wondering if you had heard anything about any Sylrian prisoners?” Mina asked as she helped her clean up.
Roxen and Channon growled, but a sharp look from Mina quieted them.
“Have I heard about Sylrian prisoners? I haven’t stopped hearing about Sylrian prisoners. They captured almost eighty of those people, and brought them all here. Now, most of the Sylrian prisoners are scattered to the winds, though I hear there are a few left in prison.”
“And what are they doing with them?” Rayna asked.
“Selling them as slaves mostly—for the mines, fields, and to anyone who can pay the coin. Except for the more high-profile cases, of course.”
“High-profile?” Katrine asked.
“Aye. They’re making examples of the leaders. Making a lot of money off them, too. You’d be amazed what people pay to see executions.”
Rayna gulped. “They’re executing the leaders?”
“I’m afraid so, lovey. Just a while ago they killed the real famous one. Oh, what was his name, Lannie? Lonnie?”
“Lonian,” Rayna finished, her voice tiny.
“That’s right, Lonian Kemar. He was a real folk hero. The stories you hear about him…I tell you, a real shame.” Rita shook her head.
Mina and Channon gripped Rayna’s hands.
“I’m sorry, Ray. He was a good man,” Channon said.
“Razorn’s blood!” Rita crossed to Rayna. “Did you know him? I’m sorr
y, dear.”
Rayna nodded, fighting the tears back in her eyes. If she had better control of her visions, she might have foreseen this. As it was, it hit her like a punch to the gut. How could Rayna face Laera knowing that she failed to save the dog's soul mate?
“What about his nephew, Kellan Kemar?” Rayna asked. “Did they make a spectacle of him too?” If they had, then everything she'd done in her vision's name would've been in vain. She would have failed Lumae, and put her friends in danger, for nothing.
“Kellan Kemar. I’ve heard his name, too. Yes, the criers have been calling his name out this whole week. He’s to be executed in the arena, like his uncle, I’m afraid.”
Rayna’s head snapped up. “When?”
“Oh, well, tomorrow—just before sunset.”
Cassian returned from the kitchen. His grim expression signaled he’d heard the conversation.
“And until then, he’d be held in Krymammer, correct?” Mina squeezed Rayna’s shoulder.
“Can’t think of anywhere else they’d keep the poor man,” Rita said.
“No,” Roxen said as Mina opened her mouth to speak.
“You haven’t heard what I was gonna say, you big scruffy bear!”
“You were about to say that the three of you only have one day to break into Krymammer and rescue Kellan Kemar.”
“Aye, but you should have at least let me say it.” Mina crossed her arms over her chest.
“Rayna, you cannot be serious about this,” Channon murmured.
“I don’t have a choice. Like I tried to tell you back home, Lumae wants me to save him. I was too late to help Lonian, but if there is the smallest chance I can save Kellan, then I have to take it.”
“Why? Why would the Goddess care about that wastrel?” Channon’s eyes burned into her.
“He isn't a wastrel,” Rayna protested. “I don't have all the answers, but I didn't when the gods helped me save you, either!”
Channon leaped to his feet. “After everything that has happened with Swann, and the Maenorens who’ve been captured, you’re still going through with this?”
“Look,” Katrine said, “Rayna, Mina, and I came here for a reason. Granted, events did not go according to plan, but that doesn't change anything. The Sylrians are part of our history. They’re part of who we are—and beyond that, they saved Rayna and Mina’s lives. Helping them now, in whatever way we can, is the honorable thing to do. More than that, I trust Rayna, and I trust in her visions.”
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