Ren moved down the street slowly, keeping his head down and his hood up the entire way. Kal walked ahead of him, marked by a dark blue cap. They were still alone in Saanazar, in search of their friends. The sprawling city was full of faces—none of them familiar. They had left marks at their former locations, such as eyes scratched in wood or broken brick, and signs of a location to meet, like a circle for the Round Barrel Tavern. There were too many places to look for such hidden messages and far too many searching guards. Their friends couldn’t find them, and they couldn’t find their friends.
Whenever they could, Kal and Ren would find some secluded alley to train. Although almost a month had passed, Ren’s arm was nowhere near ready for strain; still, he could help Kal train by using his off-hand and sparring defensively. It might be months before his slung arm was ready for proper training again. He was going to need to get used to doing things with his left.
The battle in the harbour had become the talk of the town in the last few weeks. Ren and Kal spoke with patrons of taverns on the north side of the city, pretending they were recent arrivals from the nearby Crimson Highway. There had not been any official announcement of the slain Archpriest—or the vanished Roithe, whom Ren suspected would be presumed dead by his peers. After all, Ren knew all too well that a teleport away from mortal danger could take an immense amount of time to complete. Who knew when the dangerous Archpriest would reappear?
With a small bottle of spirits, Kal and he made a quick toast to Renado’s 24th birthday on the 17th. He reminisced days of celebrating his day with siblings and friends at the Emerald Eye Tavern. He was now so far from there.
A few days later, Ren was sharing a beer with a cobbler at a tavern in the Traveller’s District when he learned something new. They had been passing the time talking about the growing chaos all over Gethra when the shoemaker told him, “Yes, they’re planning to hang a few of the criminals they caught at the second attack.”
Ren suddenly had a dozen questions. “The second attack?” he asked.
“Well, there were two fights—the one on the water, and the one on the shore.” The workman paused to drink more of the barkeeper’s finest.
Kal and Ren had only heard general reference to the “battle in the harbour,” so this was news. “That was with the guards, not the priests, right?”
The workman shrugged as though this was old news. “They have a few in custody. Archpriest Bradach decided it was time to make an example of them, I guess. Not really necessary—I heard recruitment is way up, on account of this new crime outfit attacking in broad daylight. Do you think they are connected to the bandit army of the Great Isle?”
“Probably not,” Ren said simply, not really thinking about his words. He was thinking about who was in custody. Obviously, Woodro was the first answer. Roithe had said Woodro would die if Ren didn’t surrender. Ren’s thrill-seeking mercenary now faced the ultimate thrill. But the cobbler said, “few”, Ren thought. “Have a good evening,” he bid his drinking companion and went to find Kal.
His comrade was standing on the patio in front of the common room, chatting with a couple over tobacco pipes. Ren waved his head to pull Kalikus aside. They reconvened near the closed bakery shopfront across the street.
“There was a second clash in the harbour,” Ren told him. “Maybe Ira brought the sailors or Asar and Omma fought… I don’t know. At least some of them were captured.”
“Captured?” Kal asked.
“There’s going to be a hanging,” Ren said. “Woodro and a couple others, as far as I can tell.”
Kalikus cursed and rubbed his forehead. “What are we going to do? They know we’ll show up. It’ll be protected by an army.”
Ren nodded gravely. “But we go nonetheless. Anyone that wasn’t captured will be there too. We may need to let Woodro die—but in the very least we can find our allies too.” He licked his lips. He couldn’t believe he had said it, or even thought it. Woodro had always been prepared to give his life for the feats he had triumphed; but now Ren might actually have to let him lose it.
“Are you sure?” Kal asked. “It’ll be dangerous.”
“I’m sure,” Ren replied. Disguises, distance, tactics… he knew they would soon be walking into the viper’s nest—with nothing but smoke and mirrors to protect them.