The Inquisition (Summoner, #2)(48)
‘For one of your teams,’ Electra said gruffly, raising her eyebrows at him. ‘Captain Lovett selected him, but thought she would give both of your teams the option to take him. Arcturus has his own choice if you decide to turn him down.’
‘Respectfully, I’m a little worried,’ Othello said, shuffling his feet with embarrassment. ‘If the military doctors said he wasn’t fit for duty on the front line, how can he be ready for a mission this dangerous, deep in the jungle? I thought we would be getting a scout, or a tracker.’
‘I was inclined to agree with you when Jeffrey suggested it to me,’ Electra said. ‘But I concocted him a herbal remedy that relieves his symptoms somewhat and, like I said, he knows the jungle better than even a scout would. He’s studied its ecosystem, the same way I have the ether. Knows what plants to eat, which ones to avoid. He’ll see you right, if you’ll take him.’
‘We have a choice?’ Fletcher asked.
‘Yes. Nobody is forcing you to choose him as your guide, but I know that Captain Lovett has yet to find a second option for your team. If you want my elixirs and the new spells I have discovered, you’ll do it. That deep behind enemy lines, who knows what manner of demons you will encounter. I want an alchemist there,’ Electra replied.
For a moment Fletcher stared at Jeffrey, who stood a little straighter, determination written across his face.
‘I’ll take him,’ Fletcher said.
21
Fletcher and his team sat around the tavern table, examining the map in front of them.
‘Why are they dropping us in so far from the mission target?’ Othello said, pointing to the far edge of the map, where their drop zone was marked with an X. ‘It will take us days to get there.’
‘It’s probably as close as they can get to the pyramid without being seen,’ Sylva mused, tracing the distance from the front line to the mark with her finger. ‘If we’re spotted being dropped off, then we might as well set off some fireworks to announce our arrival.’
Fletcher watched the debate with his chin in his hands, too tired to add his own speculation. The cart ride into Corcillum had been miserable, drenching them with a thin drizzle that had kept them all silently huddled together, protecting the map and instructions that Rook had handed to them on the way out of Vocans.
When they finally arrived, Othello led them straight to a boarded-up tavern, where he said they could bed down for the night, while Seraph’s team followed Sacharissa, presumably to find whoever Arcturus had chosen as their guide. Lysander also took his leave, launching into flight without any prior warning. Fletcher guessed that Lovett had stopped scrying and the Griffin was eager to return to her side.
The tavern’s rafters hung extremely low, as if designed for dwarves instead of men, and the inside looked as if it had not been disturbed for a long time, with tables and chairs scattered haphazardly around the bar. Othello had lit the few remaining lanterns, but the room stayed gloomy, relying mostly on the moonlight that filtered through the shuttered windows.
‘Where the hell are we anyway?’ Fletcher groaned, wiping his finger along the edge of the table and showing them the dust. ‘It’s filthy in here.’
‘The Anvil Tavern,’ Cress replied, pointing at a sign with the same name and symbol above the door. ‘It’s where the Anvils used to meet, believe it or not. The clue’s in the name.’
She winked at him.
The name was familiar, and Fletcher had a hazy memory of Athol suggesting he go there on his first day in Corcillum, when he gave him the Anvil card that had been used at the trial.
‘I used to come here,’ Jeffrey spoke up, leaving the table and leaning on the bar. He’d barely said a word since they had chosen him as their guide. ‘I was even a junior member, before they became arsonists and this place was shut down. Best beer in all of Corcillum. Worth joining up for that alone.’
‘Dwarf-owned,’ Othello said, his chest swelling with pride. ‘My cousin’s place actually. He said we could use it to prepare for the mission.’
‘The instructions said that the mission starts the day after tomorrow,’ Fletcher said, ignoring them. ‘I’d rather get in some shuteye now, because I don’t think we’ll get much in the jungle. We can sort all this out in the morning.’
‘Actually, Fletcher, you’ll need to stay up a little while longer,’ Othello said, a sheepish smile on his face. ‘We have visitors coming. They’ll be here any minute, with any luck.’
There was a knock on the door, the rat-a-tat-tat making Fletcher jump.
‘Right on cue,’ Othello grinned, running over to the door and throwing it open.
Two figures stood in the doorway. The closest wore long, flowing robes of pink and blue, with twisting flowers embroidered down the centre. Although she wore a veil, from the way Othello hugged her, Fletcher guessed it was Briss, his mother.
Beside her, Athol stood with his hands tucked deep in the pockets of his breeches, a tired but satisfied look upon his face.
‘Would you give us a hand with the goods?’ Athol said, motioning with his head to a boar-pulled cart behind him. It was piled high with packages, and the boar’s sides were soaked with sweat from an arduous journey. ‘Be careful, it’s precious cargo. Might save your life.’