Trying to learn about the mysterious Archpriest Roithe was slower than any of Ren’s previous missions. They spent the first week with nothing aside from his name. It was Kalikus who once again brought Ren his first real clue. A few days earlier, a meeting of the Archpriests had been called. Kal’s contacts at the brothel revealed Archpriest Morrus’ frustrated remarks after the meeting. According to Kal and the women of the Perfumed Palace, Morrus had ranted about the stress of strategizing in these trying times, without the attendance of the full council. His words, according to Kal, were, “Even in these trying times, Roithe is nowhere to be found!” That would explain why trying to find the elusive Grey Brother in Saanazar had produced no leads.
It was a large world to search for one man. Renado had no choice but to order his men to continue their work here in Saanazar. Hopefully they would learn more about Roithe—and at some point, he had to return, didn’t he? This was the base of operations for the Atmos Septi.
Renado spent his days surveying the work of his men. Sometimes he would tail priests they already had, to confirm his men’s work or to get a more personal impression of the ever-growing web of names. Other days he would buy one of his men a drink to ensure their loyalty and content with the strange organization they had become.
One day, just as Asar was leaving the bar stool beside Ren, Ira came hurrying over to the stressed leader. “Ira,” Ren said. “Didn’t expect to see you until this evening.”
She ran a hand through her chestnut streaked hair and bounced onto the empty bar stool. “I didn’t expect to be done at cards so early either,” she said.
“Did something happen?” Ren asked, facing her.
Ira flicked up a hand to put him at ease. “Vagren Spirits—on the rocks,” she told the barkeep. It was her drink of choice for when she didn’t want to get drunk—or when she had already had too much.
Parla smiled and set a small cup on the bar. Ren still had ale in his mug, so he took a sip while the portly woman poured Ira her spirits. When Parla stepped farther down the bar, Ren lowered his cup and looked back at his lover with a raised eyebrow.
“Got a priest drunk earlier,” she said. “One of Archpriest Bradach’s friends, turns out.” She took a drink of her spirits and turned to give Ren a sly smile. Bradach was the Archpriest of the Reformer’s Creed, responsible for teaching of the Sky God in lands beyond the walls of Saanazar.
“Ira, I’ve got men to do stunts like this!” Ren exclaimed. He kept his voice low nonetheless.
“And even if I don’t help out, I’m in as much danger as them,” Ira said flatly. “Tell me with a straight face that me not helping out would make any difference. I’m as good as dead if the Brethren, or the Empire of Noress, or this gods-damned Conclave turn on you.”
It still felt like a punch in the gut to realize when Ira knew something that the Tether prevented Ren from sharing. She must have overheard someone mention the Conclave recently, because she had not spoken of it before. Ren hid his reaction in his ale mug, before saying, “I warned you it would be dangerous.”
Ira rolled her eyes. Though Ren suspected she would have a comeback for his remark, she instead downed her spirits in a gulp and set the cup across the bar for Parla to refill. Ren shook his head with frustration while he was quietly forced to wait for the barkeep to give them privacy again. Finally, he put one elbow on the counter and leaned closer to Ira. “So, what did you learn about Bradach?” he asked.
“I mentioned that I had heard there was some recent bitterness about Roithe’s absence.” Ira’s smile returned as she told him, “My source said he and Bradach don’t share that bitterness. Roithe spends lots of time abroad, as does Bradach. They work together.”
Ren grinned. He slapped the bar emphatically. “That’s great work, Ira! We knew Roithe had enemies, but now we know he has an ally. We can use that, I think,” he breathed.
She only nodded knowingly. For a moment, they drank in silence. Then, she asked, “What will you do if Par told the truth—if Roithe did solely produce the plan that attacked Sheld?”
Ren blinked. It was an easy answer. “Kill him,” he whispered.
Ira swallowed hard, but she already knew the sort of vengeance they were after. Though her experiences of tavern gambling tables had included plenty of scuffles, she was not a cutthroat like Ren. Despite that, she seemed willing to live in Ren’s world. “But that’s not it,” she murmured.
“No,” Ren said. “Just the first milestone. When revenge is done, I still need to defeat my enemies—our enemies. Security is not something I can give my family until they are all destroyed.” He lifted his mug for another drink. What a day that would be, he thought as he lowered his ale. He put his hand on Ira’s and smiled.