The Drowned Woods (15)
“How reassuring,” said Fane. “And what makes you think I won’t just go to the guards and explain how you tried to hire me for some illegal venture?”
“You were in the fighting rings,” said Renfrew. “Law-abiding folk don’t fight in illegal rings for coin and glory. And they certainly don’t beat infamous mercenaries to death for the joy of it.”
Fane wanted to protest that last sentence, but he wasn’t sure what part to object to. “I did what had to be done,” he finally said. “I’m sorry if you object.”
Renfrew shook his head. “Never apologize, dear lad.”
Fane began to reply, but he heard the sound of a door crashing open. It came from the direction of the fighting rings. There was a rumble of furious voices, low and intent.
Those would be the Blaidd’s friends. It had taken them long enough—they’d likely fortified themselves with a strong drink before venturing out to find Fane. Which meant it was time to leave.
“What kind of supper did you have in mind?” Fane asked.
CHAPTER 4
THE CITY WAS large enough to have a few places with rooms to rent. But Renfrew turned away from the eateries and taverns, from the sounds of other travelers and the warmth of hearth fires. He kept to the shadows, and Mer followed half a step behind. She let him lead.
Some instincts never left a person. And neither did some fears.
Mer listened. She kept her eyes on the ground, focusing on the soft scuffle of her own boots and the sound of the young man behind her. The dog panted as he trotted along. And as always, Renfrew was utterly silent. Once Mer had those sounds fixed in her mind, she turned her senses outward—listening for any disturbances: the thud of pursuing footsteps or the cries of angry followers. The Blaidd’s companions would be hunting his killer.
Mer kept her hands out of her cloak, her knives at the ready. But she never needed to use them.
Renfrew led them to the fringes of the city, to where several homes stood empty.
Mer half expected their guest to protest such accommodations, but Fane remained silent. The corgi sniffed at the damp wood of the doorway. Fane stepped inside, seemingly unafraid of being led to an empty building by two people he did not know. That either made him incredibly brave or rather foolish.
Or, Mer reflected, he was just that sure of his own ability to defend himself.
And considering what she’d seen him do to the Blaidd, perhaps he’d earned that confidence.
The empty house smelled of rotted wood. Moss filled in the cracks and the windows were hollow gaps in the walls covered by worn cloth. Renfrew went to look through one of the windows, but Mer caught him by the arm. Her fingers were gloved, but she knew he could feel her nails digging through the cloth. “This wasn’t the plan,” she said quietly. “We were supposed to hire the Blaidd.”
“Come, Mer.” Renfrew kept his voice soft, so the words would not carry. “You know how these things go. We make plans and then they collapse around us.”
“I’d hoped maybe a few years away from the prince and his games might have changed that,” she replied.
Renfrew gave her a soft, almost sad smile. “The game never changes. Nor does our need to improvise.” Without so much as blinking, he broke Mer’s grip and took hold of her arm. It was a gentle reminder that for all he looked like any other man, he was not to be trifled with. “We need a fighter. And that one—he’s more than what he seems. I’ve watched men kill each other for decades, but I’ve never seen a talent like his. He’s coming with us.”
Mer glanced to the corner of the room. Fane knelt beside his dog, scratching the creature’s ears. “And if he refuses?” she said softly.
Renfrew did not answer, but Mer knew his reply. No one could hear of this venture and not come with them. They’d be too much of a liability.
She pressed a hand to her aching eyes. They’d traveled for nearly a week without rest to get here and exhaustion made her magic sluggish. “I’m tired,” she said. “If you want him silenced, do it yourself.”
Renfrew’s face remained untouched by anger or irritation. “I hope you’re not too tired to get a fire going. I’ll see if anyone followed us.”
She threw him a disgruntled look over her shoulder, then knelt beside the fireplace. Renfrew’s footsteps rang out behind her, and then she was alone with Fane.
Exhaling hard, Mer looked down at the fireplace. She reached into her pack and withdrew firesteel. In a few minutes, there was a well-sized fire licking at the dry logs. The corgi waddled closer and plopped down next to her. In the flickering light, his dark eyes glittered with something like intelligence. Or perhaps that was her own imaginings. There were tales of corgis—of how they were servants and messengers of the tylwyth teg. Mer had never given those stories much weight. Surely if the otherfolk were going to have spies, they’d be far less… slobbery.
“Where did you get him?” Mer asked, holding out her hand for the dog to sniff. He snuffled around her fingers, then gave one enormous sneeze before licking at her hand.
Fane reached down to ruffle the dog’s ears. “Trefor? He was wandering a forest when I happened through. I gave him some cheese and he seemed to decide I was worth following.”
“He’s a handsome boy, isn’t he?” Mer’s voice softened without her meaning to. She let out a breath and glanced up at Fane. He hadn’t sat beside the fire; rather, he stood with his arms relaxed at his sides.