“You’ve helped plenty, and I’ve been trying to uncover information about our benefactor as well,” Gavin said.
“You have?” Wrenlow asked. His voice was soft and clear through the enchantment.
“As much as I can.”
“I imagine that involves wine and women.”
“Not always in that order,” Gavin said, smiling.
The street had been empty for a while, and he rolled over, dropping down from the rooftop. He looked around, but there was nothing suspicious. He hurried along the street until he reached an intersection. From there, he hesitated another moment before heading onward. He started taking a circuitous route, instinct guiding him. He wanted nothing more than to head back to the tavern, to sit by the fire, but given what he had encountered tonight, that wasn’t safe. Instead, he wandered through the city, winding his way back.
The sense that he was being followed began to build. That must’ve been why his instinct had been to take this roundabout route. At one point, he paused and spun around, but there was no one there. That didn’t change the feeling that there was some activity behind him. Gavin started back the way he’d been, turning at random corners and sweeping through the streets.
Yoran was a massive city built before the Reclamation War. It had barely been affected by the warfare, not the way that so many other cities had been. Much of the ancient structures remained with stonework that was incredibly ornate. The pale white stone gleamed in the sunlight, but in the gray overcast of night, it looked run-down, almost dirty.
Gavin rounded the corner, then paused at the next intersection. He looked around for any sign of movement, but there wasn’t anything. Again he changed direction, heading back the way he’d come. By the time he reached the wealthier section of the city, he was certain he was being followed. It was nothing more than a feeling, but he’d learned to trust his intuition.
A massive tree grew in the middle of the street. It had an enormous trunk, and the thick, velvety leaves were nothing like those on the bells tree he had nearly cut himself open on while approaching the manor house. This was a sacred place in the city to some; a place where they came to worship the tree that had supposedly been planted long before the city had been built. If so, that made the tree over a thousand years old, which Gavin found almost impossible to believe. He reached the tree and traced his fingers along the trunk, feeling the smoothness of the bark that was in sharp contrast to the trunk of the bells tree.
“I understand that you weren’t successful,” said a voice behind him.
Gavin spun, knives already out, but hesitated. “You really should be careful, Hamish.”
Hamish was an older man with graying hair, and a gold chain hung over the robe he always wore. It marked him as a priest of sorts, though he was like no priest Gavin had ever met. Each time Gavin encountered Hamish, the man was dressed in a different garishly colored robe. The darkness made it difficult to tell what color it was tonight. Deep eyes stared at him, the look within them almost knowing, as if Hamish recognized some secret Gavin had yet to find.
“Why must I be careful? Isn’t it your job to ensure that you are cautious with your blades?”
“I suppose it is,” he said.
“Not so cautious tonight, though.”
Gavin’s gaze flickered toward the end of the street. The manor house that he’d been asked to attack was not so far away.
Had it been chance that had brought me here?
He liked to think that it had been, but maybe he’d been guided. If so, he didn’t care much for that.
“I was as cautious as I could be. The job wasn’t to be silent with my actions.”
Hamish surprised him by laughing. “I suppose we should be much more particular with the assignment then.”
“We?”
“You know you aren’t working for me, Gavin Lorren.”
There were many things about Hamish that Gavin didn’t like, and knowing his full name was just one of them, especially as he had certainly never shared it. Names made it far too easy to uncover things that needed to remain hidden. “When do you intend to tell me who I’m working for?”
“In time. Now, should we talk about the price for failure?”
“Price? I haven’t completed the job, but it’s not a failure.”
“I’m afraid your failure must be punished, but the type of punishment depends on your attitude. So says our mutual employer,” Hamish said.
“And I’m telling you that I’ll finish the job.”
“I’m afraid that isn’t going to be possible. You see, now that you have failed this time, the defenses around your target will be shifted, and anything else will be far more difficult for you to reach.”
Gavin frowned.
How much more difficult could it get?
Getting to that woman had already been incredibly challenging, and he couldn’t imagine it being harder. “I could bring others in, and all it takes is for us to—”
“No. We aren’t looking for warfare. Besides, that isn’t the point. Now that you have attacked—and failed, I must add—our target will move.” Hamish glanced up at the sky. He glowered at the rain drizzling down around them. “I don’t suppose you understand just how difficult a position you place me in.”
Gavin smiled. “And how difficult a position is that?”
“Trying to argue for the merits of keeping you employed.”
“I’ve completed every assignment you’ve asked of me.”
“Not every one,” Hamish said.
Gavin shook his head. “Fine. Not every assignment but almost every assignment. And I will complete this one.” Failure wasn’t something he was accustomed to, though there were times when he hadn’t completed tasks before. Usually that was because he chose not to; not at all like this one.
“That is why I’m here. I needed to see for myself.”
“To see what for yourself?”
“Whether or not you could be trusted.”
Gavin found himself smiling again. “Trusted with what?”
“With the opportunity to finish your task. Seeing as how you have failed us, our employer thought it best you be removed from the equation, but I have argued against that. You see, I recognize the value you offer, even if they are sometimes skeptical of you.”
“Do you really think our employer would find me easy to remove?”
“How many of your own kind do you think you could outrun?” Hamish asked.
The way that the man had said “own kind” left a chill through Gavin. There were plenty of mercenaries like himself within Yoran, and he knew it would be difficult to outrun many, but the statement could also be interpreted as something else—something that left him even more troubled.
What exactly did Hamish know about me? Could that be why they had sought me out as soon as I had arrived in the city?
Gavin hadn’t revealed his presence to that many people, and he hadn’t come openly either.
“Now, I know you are quite talented,” Hamish continued, “but if we hired five. Seven. A dozen. How many of them do you think you would be able to overpower?”
Gavin resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t know after all and really did just mean other mercenaries. “As many as they hired to come after me.”