Ermolt snorted with laughter. “I can’t tell if you two are being serious.” He shook his head. “We can’t leave. If he left the very night we slew Sirur, then he got here at least three days ahead of us. Maybe more if he got a horse. Whatever lead he had, he wasted it on getting the City Guard in place, and so he won’t keep doing so forever. Eventually he’ll get back to business. And if we leave now, we’re handing him Undyt.” Ermolt picked up his mug, brought it to his lips, and then slammed it back down on the table. “We don’t even know what he plans to do with the dragon! We’re not confident we could stop him now. What if he gets stronger?”
Athala visibly shuddered. “After seeing him in action in Jalova, I do not like the idea of him gaining more power.”
“No, wait,” Elise said, frowning. “This is his base of power, right? He had access to Undyt before we ever met him. Why did he even go to Khule? Why Jalova? Something here has to be keeping Undyt safe from him.”
Athala shook her head. “Not necessarily. I’ve thought about this a bit. It’s the spell.” Athala leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and crossing her arms. She nestled her chin against them, pensively. “Meodryt said that absorbing the dragon spells would have killed a lesser wizard. And there’s... something else.” She took a deep breath. “In Jalova, I realized that he was using Meodryt’s spell. I don’t know... I just don’t know how to explain it.” She frowned. “It was like he turned it into a ritual. But one that would only work after I’d absorbed Sirur’s spell. I don’t know how such a thing is possible. I haven’t had enough time to study either spell in that much detail, but I need to. Because it’s obvious he needed Meodryt’s spell to be able to do... whatever it is he’s doing with the dragons. Binding them somehow?” Athala shook her head again, this time violently. “I wish I had more time!”
Elise put a hand to Athala’s arm, stilling the wizard. “It’s alright, Athala. It’ll be alright.”
“It won’t though.” Athala patted Elise’s hand. There was fear and a sense of loss in her eyes, but also determination. The combination looked dangerous. “Ibeyar isn’t foolish enough to risk his life if he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. But now he knows. He has everything he needs, and just needs to drum up a sacrificial pawn to absorb Undyt’s current bindings.”
“So if we spread rumors around the city that we’re here...” Elise trailed off as Athala nodded.
“He’ll panic. His first fear would be that we beat him to the dragon again. He’ll rush whatever plan he has, and there’s nothing we could do to stop him if we aren’t actually here.”
“But we’re here now,” Elise said, quietly. “We’ve found him before he could take his prize, and now we can stop him before he does. If we went to Klav or Feldhok, or Balsiya, or anywhere else first, then we wouldn’t have had the opportunity.”
“So we stay,” Ermolt said before emptying his mug once more.
“Yes. We stay. We keep one step ahead of him. We kill Undyt. And we ruin his plans once more.” Elise grinned, a thing that felt sickly and mean on her face, but her companions mirrored it. She brought her fist down on the parchment, directly over Ibeyar’s exaggerated face. “We stop him once and for all.”
Chapter Eleven
Ermolt ordered another round of drinks and a hearty meal, even though it was too late in the day for lunch and too early for supper. At first Athala had argued that they should just wait another bell or two for a real supper, or go somewhere that had a bit of a better reputation. But when the plates and plates of various fried and baked vegetables showed up, piled high like they were to be served to the royalty of old, her protests were forgotten.
It was much more of an impressive spread than Athala had expected from the Lucky Turnip. There were, of course, roasted turnips. But there were also fried potatoes like Athala used to have as a child, a glaze of winterberries over fire-blackened carrots, and the normally sour addinge roasted whole and cut in two to spill its squash-like innards. The addinge was surprisingly sweet that way, and Athala happily devoured it nearly on her own.
For once her companions hadn’t ordered some meat-based dish for themselves. This meal was more of a precursor to supper for them, and they picked at the spread in a way that reminded Athala of the elegant parties her parents would throw with the other noble families in Lublis. Thousands of plates would circle the room, each with too-small portions of some fantastical meal. The party goers would indulge in one or two to be polite, never wanting to actually admit they were hungry and eat.
Thinking of noble society made Athala’s heart ache almost equal to the relief she felt that she wasn’t still wrapped up in it. There were things she hated about growing up in the highest social circles of Lublis, and some things she missed so dearly it almost made her cry.
But once their bellies had been sated by the sheer number of dishes, and once Ermolt had inhaled another three mugs of mead, it was time to discuss their options.
No one wanted to start.
They danced around the subject as elegantly as performers. One would mention Ibeyar in vague terms and another would jump to another logical topic based on the conversation. Dipping and diving. Never getting around to the point. Never wanting to be the one who ruined the lovely little meal they were enjoying.
Naturally, Athala finally took it upon herself to begin. “So where do we start?”
Elise visibly winced and Ermolt sputtered in his mead. “Well, alright,” Elise said. “We have the upper hand for now, right? Ibeyar doesn’t know we’re here. He might expect us any day now, but he doesn’t know. We could have gone to Klav first. There’s no way he could know we’re in the city.”
“That might be a bit of a bold claim,” Athala said, licking a bit of winterberry glaze from her index finger. “There’s been no indication that we haven’t been located yet and he’s just waiting for the right time to strike.” Athala looked down at her plate. She realized she wouldn’t mind if this were her last meal. It had been a surprising treat. “But we could get a look around the city, though. See how much he trusts the blockade. If the Guards are investigating every tavern for trios of out-of-towners every night, then he might have other people watching for us.”
“Right. We may have blundered right into his base of power, but we need to take every precaution now.”
“Alright,” Ermolt said before belching loudly as in appreciation of both meal and drink. “First order of business then is to get the lay of the land. We need to find out how paranoid he is. If we can figure out what he’s doing to keep an eye out for our presence, that would be great.” He gestured to the parchment, still sitting in the middle of the table and half hidden by plates. “It would also be good to find out if his plans with the Temple and the dragon are progressing.”
Elise leaned back in her chair, resting her arms across her broad belly. “If we can find his plans, perhaps he will have done the hard work for us.”
“How so?” Athala asked as she tilted her head.
“If he’s watching the Hall of Records for us to sneak in and look at the layout of the building like we did in Jalova, we can’t do our own research. But if we can get eyes on his plans, we won’t have to.”
Athala shook her head. “Honestly, I don’t think that will matter much.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as she steepled her fingers in front of her face. “If he’s looking in the city for us, in spite of screening everyone coming in, we can’t hide the fact that we’re here. We can sneak around all we want, but if we turn a corner and come face-to-face with him, or someone who has a good description of us, we can’t exactly do anything about it.”
“I don’t know if they have good descriptions,” Ermolt said with a laugh. “They seem to just have vague ideas about our occupations and hair colors. I’m not sure if Ibeyar really ever got a good look at us. Or if he’s just terrible at describing people.”
“Alright. But we can’t do nothing as a way to avoid every possibility of get
ting caught.” Elise took a drink from her mug, but didn’t return it to the table. Instead she gestured with it, punctuating her words randomly. “I think we stay split up in public until we know for certain they aren’t searching inside the city for us. At least one of us stays in a separate room from the others, just until we know they aren’t searching taverns. We don’t go by our real names, anywhere. Once we know more about how he’s watching for us, we’ll know how to stay hidden from him. But until we’re certain, we just play it safe.”
Ermolt snatched a cut of turnip from a plate and popped the whole thing in his mouth. The vegetable was likely cooled and a bit mushy, which Athala assumed from the grimace that crossed his face. But he powered through and swallowed it. “So, alright. We just stick to what worked in Jalova.” He pushed his now empty plate away from him. “We split up, play to our individual strengths, find out what we can, and stay out of sight. Come up with our next steps from there.”
“Um, that didn’t work.”
“Sure it did! In the end, we killed Sirur.”
Across the table, Elise snickered into her mug.
“No, ah, I mean, before that.”
“I seem to remember that we...” Ermolt trailed off, thinking for a moment. “We acquired an alliance with a formidable force within the city?”
“Hm. Yes, alright. But that’s after they made you fight your way out. And we fought our way in.”
“It wasn’t like they put me in a cage or anything.”
Athala laughed and hid her face in her hands. “I, um, don’t have anything to say to that.”
Elise joined her in the laughter. “After a while it’s just usually best to let him remember what he wants to.” She grinned. “It just helps things go smoother.”
“You’re both delusional. I was never in danger and had the situation completely under control!”
Athala made a sound of agreement, hiding behind her hands once more. When the worst of her laughter had subsided, she took a deep breath. “Alright. So Ermolt is going to get captured by the Jalovan Overseers again. Elise, what do you plan on doing?”
“I can stick to the back alleys and ask questions there,” Elise said, trying to suppress her own laughter. “Wherever there’s authority, there’s people who skirt it. I should be able to safely talk to the folks already on Ibeyar’s bad side, and see what I can learn.”
“And ultimately get me into trouble again?” Ermolt grinned at her from across the table.
Athala didn’t quite get to see who started it, but bits of potatoes were flung across the table as they both laughed.
She’d been distracted.
Her friends were able to do things. To help on this quest. Where as she would just be useless.
Athala sighed, heavily.
“What’s wrong?” Elise asked, a new, or perhaps the same bit of potato, held mid-launch in her hand.
“I can’t do anything to help.”
“Nonsense! There’s always research to be done—”
“And I can’t do any of it,” Athala said firmly. “You said yourself that Ibeyar might be watching the Hall of Records. And if I go alone, I’ll be captured. I’m not good enough to avoid his goons,” she gestured at Elise, “or strong enough to fight them off,” she gestured now at Ermolt. “If I go there—or maybe anywhere—he might not just be keeping an eye out for people asking questions. He might be looking specifically for me.”
Elise frowned. “What did you plan on doing then?”
“Well, I can’t just sit around and wait for you to do all the hard work.” Athala picked at a left over bit of addinge that had somehow slipped from her plate and to the table. “I won’t just sleep in while you two are risking your lives for this, but there’s not a lot I can do to gather information if Ibeyar has eyes on every book in the city.” She paused, flicking the addinge back onto her plate. “But I do know somewhere I can get help.”
“Ah. The wizard professor guy?” Ermolt asked and Athala nodded.
“Your cover story? What about it?”
“I’m sure I mentioned before, but I’m not strong enough to fight Ibeyar. If everything goes wrong and we have to, um, fight him, he’ll have more than enough lackeys to keep you two busy. Especially here. And that means that, er, I n-need to face him. One-on-one. But more than that, I’ll need to keep him from interfering with your fight against whatever forces he brings to bear. And possibly a dragon, if things get that far. After seeing him in action in J-Jalova, I need an edge if I’m going to match him.” Athala straightened in her chair. “Sieghard is not just a powerful wizard. He’s one of the foremost researchers of his generation. If I can get his help with the dragon spells, then I can use them against Ibeyar. Then I can beat him.”
Ermolt and Elise shared a glance at one another. Athala realized she was posing, chest thrust out and fist clenched in the air. She must have had determination and fervor plastered across her face. With a flush she folded in upon herself, tucking her hands against the skirt of her dress.
“Fanaticism aside, it does sound like a good use of your time.”
“Better than being attacked in a library and taken prisoner,” Ermolt said with a nod.
Athala smiled at the barbarian, trying to hide the way her lips shook with the effort. Could she really take Ibeyar out with just a few days of studying? If anyone could help her, it was Sieghard. She just had to find him.
And convince him to help her.
And actually find his help as useful as she claimed it would be.
Easy.
Chapter Twelve
Ermolt, being the safest alone, left the Lucky Turnip to find another place to stay for the evening. With enough coin in pocket to buy a small manor in this economically shattered city, he decided to look for somewhere halfway decent.
Around a half-bell later, he found the Blue Halberd. It was close to the gates, leaving him able to survey the situation there on his way past. The barricades were still erected, and the City Guard still stopped every person who strolled up to them. It was either a perfect ruse, or they hadn’t realized the people they sought were within the city limits.
After securing himself a decent room, Ermolt spent some time making himself look like the most horrible southern stereotype of a barbarian that he could manage.
First he took a bath.
The bathhouse associated with the tavern was obviously used to higher-end clientele. Or at least less impressive ones. The women who ran the bath were incredibly shy around Ermolt. They blushed brightly and often, and they seemed unsure how to approach him. One of them was prone to just throwing things at his bared chest and skittering away as if he were going to bite, while the other two kept their heads lowered and giggled when they thought they were out of earshot.
He knew there were thousands of stories of vile barbarians doing horrible things to southern folk, but he was always surprised when his presence invoked that kind of fear unwarranted.
In spite of the weird actions of the women, the bath was everything he could have hoped for.
Traveling with Elise and Athala was something that required a lot of immediate action and left little time for the better things in life. As soon as Ermolt lowered himself into the near scalding water, he knew he’d made the right decision.
The heat of the water eased tense muscles he didn’t even know he’d been clenching. Tension bled from his shoulders and down his back, and Ermolt found himself drifting to sleep almost immediately.
But as much as he wanted to, Ermolt knew he couldn’t float in the bath and rest forever. He had to get information, and fast.
He washed himself thoroughly, including his massive mane of hair. The luscious locks had picked up days’ worth of travel grime, even though he had taken pain to wash it in rivers and creeks whenever he could. By the time he was through cleaning the curls, the water was dark with dirt.
Ermolt used the bathhouse’s facilities to dry himself off and manage his hair as best as he could. He oiled the locks w
ith some musky-smelling concoction, and arranged them so they wouldn’t dry in a giant puff ball.
Leaving the bathhouse was just as awkward as entering it. The women were still terrified of him and refused to tell him how much his bath cost. After trying to coerce them to speak for nearly a quarter of a bell, Ermolt just put a random number of coins on the counter and left in a huff.
It wasn’t even like he had many weapons on him.
But that would have to change.
Nearby to the Blue Halberd, Ermolt was able to find a leatherworker and a blacksmith, both with exactly what he needed in stock. Ermolt paid them both handsomely and returned to his room at the Blue Halberd with a whistle on his lips and bounce to his step.
Jirda seemed to be a place that didn’t see too many barbarians. People were apprehensive of him, or, in the case of the women, downright terrified. And so that influenced his desire to become a stereotype.
Once in his room, Ermolt stripped down to his breeches and, in lieu of his layered hides or even more conventional clothing, he used his newly purchased harness to strap sheathed daggers and short swords across his chest, back, and shoulders. Though the ‘outfit’ was more revealing than his usual clothing, the various sheaths felt like enough weight and coverage that he didn’t exactly feel naked.
He did feel quite dirty, pandering to what he knew everyone in these kingdoms expected of his people.
But it would help him hide in plain sight.
Not only would he not stand out among other barbarian mercenaries, but the locals he encountered might consider their internalized prejudice against barbarians justified after just one look of the massive man bristling with weapons—all bare muscle and old scars.
Destiny (Heroes by Necessity Book 3) Page 7