When Renado pulled on his a brown cloak that morning, he was ready to mourn Woodro’s death. He was ready to stand there and watch the consequences of their revenge. In truth, he was ready to leave Saanazar. He had made the Brethren pay, and—he hoped—the Matriarchs, too. He was nearly ready to find Rado again.
That was not what happened. Instead of a hanging, Ren and Kalikus found a herald speaking from the gallows. They approached cautiously, but stayed far back down the street. There were guards everywhere—Ren assumed other watchers were posted among the passersby as well. The Atmos Septi knew that Ren would want to watch his man be hanged. Kal took a brochure from a passerby and handed it to Ren—
Ira’s face jumped out at him. It was a sketch on the back of a pamphlet, handed out by the soldiers. Above it read: “Already Apprehended.” Beside Ira’s sketch was Woodro and another mercenary sailor from Urro’s group—one of Kal’s friends. How did…? Ren rubbed his forehead. They had Ira. They had been planning to hang her alongside Woodro and the mercenary.
It took Ren a moment to realize there were other sketches, too. At the top were another three: “Wanted dead or alive for the assassination of Archpriest Morrus, Archpriest Roithe, and Matriarch Haladia of the Empire of Noress.” A rather accurate sketch of Renado was there, followed by two that looked roughly like Asar and Omma.
“Haladia,” Ren mouthed voicelessly. The Matriarch I killed, he realized. His assassin had been successful, though seemingly had not returned. He hurriedly read through the rest of the brochure for more news.
Haladia had been killed, but the alliance had been made. It was public knowledge now, decreed by the herald. Speaker Serand and Archpriests Par and Hartho had returned to Saanazar. In light of the assassination of Haladia—“by the enemy”—the hanging of felons caught in connection to the harbour attack in Saanazar had been delayed for further investigation. Ren realized he now had one month to rescue Ira and Woodro, if he could. With his face held in everyone’s hands, his recently shaved jaw and his low-hanging cowl would hardly keep him safe.
“Let’s go,” he said to Kal, and started to withdraw the way they had come. Then Kal touched his arm and nodded across the avenue. A man was leaning against the shutters of nearby shop, a similar pamphlet in his hands, and his eyes locked on Kal.
“He’s one of ours,” Kal said. “Though he’s cut his hair since I saw him last.”
Ren blinked. Now he saw the familiar nose and brow. “Go with him—I’ll follow close behind. He must know where the rest are hiding.”
It was a slow trip across the city, full of twisting stops in each market, and a lunch at a random tavern. Kal and the other sailor were quiet and discreet at each location, but they had made it clear to Ren that they knew where they were going. Soon enough, they turned down an alleyway into a small garden courtyard. Was this an apothecary’s shop? Five men were waiting in the garden—two with drawn weapons. It took Ren a moment to realize that Asar was among them, his head shaved bald and a fat gold ring hanging from his nostrils. He looked like an Asha wine merchant out of the stories.
“Ren,” Asar breathed and offered his hand.
Pulling back his hood, Ren grinned and clasped his comrade’s palm. “Good to see you, Asar. So good,” he said. “But what happened? How did Ira get captured?”
“Damn drowned luck,” Asar cursed. He waved Ren to a nearby bench, while Kal took a post near the garden’s second alley-entrance. The trusty merc from the Dispatch explained, “When chaos stormed the harbour, we went with Ira to get the sailors. With surprise to our advantage, we thought it’d be a quick fight against those guards arrayed near the dock. By the time we had split them up, we realized you were long gone. Then the reinforcements arrived.”
“How many did they get?” Ren asked. He didn’t see Omma here, but the Atmos Septi were looking for him, too, according to the sketches.
“Including Ira and Borim, we’re down five,” Asar said. “The other three died in the harbour.”
“Virn and Bran too—and Captain Urro,” Ren said. He glanced at one of the armed men posted nearby as the man sighed with disappointment. Ren was a little disappointed, too—his once numerous group now counted fifteen, including himself.
“But you did it?” Asar asked. “Like the herald said—Morrus and Roithe are dead?”
“Morrus, yes,” Ren said. “Roithe was a magician. He Journeyed away, at the last moment.”
“Salt’n my eye,” Asar grunted.
Ren grimaced. But then he patted Asar’s knee and said, “It’s not all bad news though. We got a Matriarch—and Roithe revealed that Morrus gave the orders in Sheld. We killed the bastard who deserved it most.”
The sailors around grinned at that, as did Asar. “What now?” Ren’s old friend asked.
“Now?” Ren repeated. He leaned back against the vine-curtained wall of the building behind the bench. “My lover is awaiting a hanging, along with one of our best. We need to find some lookalikes if possible, and some allies if not. Let’s find somewhere private and get the whole band together. We have one month to plan this.”
“At once, sir,” Asar said, and leapt to his feet.