Lucyan and the others thanked the sergeant, then did as they were instructed. Inside the tower, several servants offered food and beer as the applicants crowded into the sitting area outside the steward’s office. Lucyan washed down a hunk of bread and meat with a swig of ale, and sighed as the liquid slid down his parched throat.
“How much do you think they’re going to pay us?” one of the men asked. The group speculated about the wages and the type of work being done. A few glanced toward Lucyan, who merely shrugged and said he didn’t care, so long as he could put food in his belly, clothes on his back, and had enough left over to donate to the whorehouse at the end of the day. That got him a few laughs, though the two men in the corner who had been side-eyeing him didn’t smile. Lucyan ignored them, keeping his eyes trained on the door.
Finally, the steward came out of his office. A middle-aged bureaucrat was with him, lean but a little soft around the middle, with silver spectacles and a thick head of shining blond hair that had threads of silver in it. “Good afternoon,” the steward said. “This is Lord Tarrick Byrule. He will be interviewing you all today, and should you be accepted for the position, he will be your boss.”
“Let’s have you first,” Byrule said briskly, pointing at one of the women—a curvy, well-muscled redhead who reminded Lucyan of one of his sisters. “Name?”
“Delara Scanton,” she said in a smoky voice, rising to her feet.
Byrule’s eyes lingered on her for a long moment. Lucyan recognized the look in his eyes—he’d seen it in the other men, too. There was a part of the man that wanted to take liberties with her, but the other part was afraid she would snap his cock in two if he tried. As they disappeared into the steward’s office, Lucyan wondered if he might be hearing the man’s screams soon. Many women would fear to retaliate against such a man in power, but since Delara was an unattached female with no family, he doubted she would have any such compunctions.
To his relief—and a bit of disappointment, if he were honest—the two came out a mere ten minutes later, with no sign that anything untoward had happened. Delara gave them all a smug smile, then sauntered out of the tower as Byrule called in the next recruit. There were quite a few stares glued to her round arse, but now that Lucyan was certain she was unmolested, he didn’t give her more than a cursory glance. The old Lucyan would not have been able to believe it, but the new Lucyan was a different man. He only had eyes for Dareena.
Finally, Lucyan himself was called in. He sat down across from Lord Byrule in the spacious office done in masculine colors with dark wood furnishings and muted colors. The walls were covered end to end with shelves and cabinets filled with ledgers and books and various supplies, but the desk itself was incongruously clean. Lucyan wondered if the steward had cleared it off in preparation for Lord Byrule’s interviews. It was the one thing out of place in the otherwise organized chaos.
“So, Suric,” Byrule said, using Lucyan’s alias. “As I understand it, you were one of the top five best candidates out there.”
“If they say so.” Lucyan smiled blandly. “There was some very fierce competition.”
“Humble.” Lord Byrule nodded in approval. “I like that. I can tell by the way you speak that you have some basic education, but even so, I need to verify that you really can read and write.” He pushed a book of poems across the desk to Lucyan. “Please open up the book to any passage and read a few lines.”
Lucyan did as he said, reading aloud a poem about unrequited love. Under other circumstances, he would have done it with theatrical flair, pressing his hand against his heart in dramatic fashion, but he’d already drawn enough attention to himself, so he refrained. Even so, he managed to make it to the end of the page before he remembered he was only supposed to read a line or two.
“A poetry fan, eh?” Lord Byrule’s eyes gleamed. “An odd pastime for a mercenary, but then again, I once met a day laborer who liked to knit in his free time.”
“Really?” Lucyan chuckled. “It is easy to misjudge a person based on one’s first impression.”
“Indeed.” Byrule gave him a shrewd look. “You may not have been the best fighter today, Suric, but the training sergeant noted that you were particularly observant. I think that you will do very well for the position I have in mind.”
“And what position might that be?” Lucyan asked, making sure to sound eager, like the hungry-for-work human that he was portraying.
“All in good time,” Byrule said. “Are you willing to work alone?”
Lucyan nodded. “I prefer it.”
“How about undercover? Possibly amongst dragons or elves?”
A-ha. “Of course,” Lucyan said. “Whatever is necessary to thwart the enemy.”
“That’s the kind of attitude I want to hear,” Byrule said. “Now, obviously you are a good fighter, but have you ever actually killed anyone, or is it all just for show?”
Lucyan paused for a split second, weighing the question. “No,” he lied. “I came close once when I was fending off a thug trying to steal my purse. The authorities arrived in the nick of time. But I would not hesitate to do so, if it were an enemy.”
Byrule asked him a few more questions, quizzing him about his character and experience. Overall, he seemed moderately impressed, which was exactly what Lucyan was aiming for.
“Very well,” Byrule said, “the position is yours, if you want it. Take the rest of the day to make whatever arrangements you need, and report back here tomorrow morning with your luggage. You’ll be living in the trainee barracks for the foreseeable future. You will be paid one gold coin at the end of every week, and once your training is finished, that amount will triple.”
“By the gods,” Lucyan gasped. “That is very generous, sir. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“You’re welcome,” Byrule said. “The pay is good, but that is because the work is very strenuous. I suggest you make your goodbyes to your friends today, as you will no longer have time to spend with them. You will only have one-half day off every week. For the rest of your waking hours, and even while you are asleep, your time belongs to me.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucyan said. He bowed to the man, then took his leave. The arrangement sounded very confining for a spy, which was curious, but the man had said undercover. Either way, he was certain he would find out something valuable about Shadowhaven’s operations if he stayed long enough, and it wasn’t as if he were locked in here for eternity. If anything went south, he would just desert.
He only hoped they could find Basilla before that happened.
11