“I fear if we don’t get to Landmoor before the army reaches it,” Jaerod said, “The destruction that happened in Sol-don-Orai will start all over again.”
Sturnin rubbed his mustache. “The fortress will hold for a few weeks, I think. Don’t underestimate the city’s defenses.”
Jaerod shook his head. “It will fall in a day, Sturnin Goff. I just pray that day is not tomorrow.”
*
Secrist Phollen jerked the reins of his lathered gelding, drawing a snort and a shuddering backstep from the beast. He studied the face of the inn – the hazy glass of the windows, the high roof supported by huge timbers and stonework. It was a marvelous thing – would be a pity to torch it. He chewed on the Everoot, feeling the flavor dance in his mouth. It tingled inside him, making his senses knife-keen. He saw better than he ever had. He was stronger than he ever was. Faster. Dangerous. He loved the feeling the ‘Root gave him.
Checking down the lines of the cavalry gathered next to him, he watched the puffs of steam rise from their breaths. Lantern fire splashed across the Catpaw, illuminating the crevices and stonework.
“She’s a beauty, just like they’ve said,” Bralt said with wonder after letting out a loud whistle. Secrist glanced over his shoulder at his chief lieutenant, who was admiring the inn. For men who lived in the saddle, marauding the lowlands day and night, nice inns were a luxury.
“What else do they say?” Secrist said sharply.
Bralt rubbed his black stubble and shrugged. “Only that a Sleepwalker watches over the place. Friends with the innkeeper…I think.”
“I don’t give a ban about a Sleepwalker.” Secrist snorted, feeling a rush of the ‘Root inside him. “You ever seen one?”
“Nope. Known a few fools who said they did…but they were drunk at the time.” The hardened lieutenant grinned smugly. “This is where your brother’s girl and the Shaden went. Give the orders, sir.”
“Carnten and Roth – make sure the rear is still secure. I don’t want Jhef and Brendin asleep back there. Kill anyone who tries to slip out.”
Carnten nodded and went one way, while Roth took the other, joining the few in the back. Secrist wasn’t worried. He had enough horsemen to raze the town if he wanted to.
“What about the knight?” Bralt said in a near-whisper from behind. “He’s bound to be with them if we read the tracks right.”
“I’ll hang him. We’re here for my brother’s girl and that Shaden. And if we’re lucky,” he added with a sly smile, “A Sleepwalker too.” The ‘Root made him giddy and he chuckled, not feeling the bite of the cold at all. “Let’s get in there, Bralt.”
Kicking free of the stirrups, Secrist left the gelding prancing in the street. He unsheathed the tapered blade belted on his hip. The pommel felt cool to the touch. He wanted that Shaden’s weapon, though. The short, leaf-bladed sword. That would fit so nicely in his hand. He’d cut the boy’s throat with it. Ear to ear.
Secrist tested the handle of the door and it opened, letting out a torrent of hot, clotted air. He inhaled the smells of the room like fire searing his lungs and scanned the tavern hall for signs of his quarry. The woodcutters and miners gathered at the tables looked up at him and then went back to the decks of Bones and dice cups. No knight. No Shaden. No Ticastasy.
Secrist felt his anger snap and flare up, surging inside him. They were supposed to be here.
“Good evening, rider,” the innkeeper said, wringing out a towel and drying another tumbler. “What can I get you tonight?”
Secrist glanced at the fine iron-work of the chandeliers. His men filed in behind him, taking measure of the place. Too pristine. Too orderly. It lacked a sticky floor and clove smoke. Not the kind of tavern Secrist liked. The innkeeper kept staring at him.
Secrist approached the bar. His boots thudded on the hardwood floor as he walked. He looked at the innkeeper’s nose, fighting off the urge to crush it against the counter top. He wanted to kill someone tonight. It itched inside him. Bralt and the others filled in the room, bringing the crossbows out to menace the bystanders.
“I’m here for the Shaden whelp,” Secrist announced, staring straight into the innkeeper’s eyes.
The innkeeper didn’t flinch. “Which one?”
Secrist scrutinized him closer, his forehead wrinkling.
“I asked which one?” the innkeeper continued, setting down the tumbler and towel. “I had two here tonight. One in robes, very sickly. The other was better-dressed. Looks like he had some money. You looking for that one?”
Secrist stared at the man. “You Talbin?” he asked.
The innkeeper nodded.
“I hear a Sleepwalker watches over your place. That true?”
Talbin stared at him, his expression guarded. “What can I do for you?”
Secrist didn’t like the innkeeper’s tone.