Chapter 18
Storm in a Thimble

By the looks of it, the entire population of Lan Exeter was out at the fair. Sirendor didn't like it, but they would never get a better shot at defeating at least this branch of the Preservers. They planned to take over, to destroy the city watch and replace it, and that was simply not something Varilia and her people could allow to happen, collateral damage or not.

Despite Sirendor's addition to the infiltrators, his role would be a passive one. The three main strikes were going to be carried out by Varilia and two others, precise assassinations. There would be some fighting, of course, with the guards of the three men, but by then it would be too late. And after … after, there would be messages to the Preservers in Pont Vanis. Only the second in command in Pont Vanis, the man responsible for communication with Lan Exeter, was himself an infiltrator. The first one, actually, an old man whose name Sirendor hadn't been told.

Trying not to think of the potential harm to the population, Sirendor started to mingle. His task was to observe if any of the three targets decided not to be where they were supposed to. One would be holding a speech. At the same time, the other two were in a stall selling candles for some obscure religion and guarding the entrance to the town hall. The timeframe for the strike was short enough. It wasn't going to be a long speech, and after it, the man with the candles would close the stall and meet the other two to organise their coup. Before that, they had to be dead.

It sounded like a huge responsibility, but Sirendor was aware that he was convenient at best. In truth, Varilia didn't want him to feel left out. They had planned this for a long time, long before he had arrived. They might be grateful for another pair of eyes, but they certainly didn't need him.

Still, Sirendor humoured them. He watched how the three assassins drifted towards their targets. He watched how abruptly, chaos erupted. How the guards suddenly had their swords out. How they tried to get to the three agents and were hindered by clusters of crowd – some regular people and some of the infiltrators among them, slowing the progress. How panic started to rise.

He had to get out.

Sirendor decided to let himself be carried with the tide of nervous citizens. It was very likely the safest route. Then something was smashed on the street, and Sirendor's instincts had him inhale a large gulp of air before holding his breath and getting out the fastest way possible. Alchemy was a thing here, and what he didn't need was being poisoned. A deep, carrying voice shouted something about escaping murderers. Sirendor ignored it, as did everyone else.

Looking around, he found a stable-looking awning and darted towards it, elbowing his way past a shrieking woman. Quickly, he pulled himself up and climbed on to the roof of a building.

Below him, people were staring at him. A light mist was forming and in it, the crowd had stopped its mad flight. The booming voice came again. 'He is the one. He chose his death. He should jump.'

Sirendor swallowed. He wasn't precisely isolated on his roof, but he was certainly in a precarious situation. 'Well done,' he muttered to himself. Out loud, he yelled, 'They chased me! Chased me up here, all the way! They're after me!'

'Come down!' a shrill voice screamed. He ignored her, looked at the nearest buildings. Two were close enough to jump, but only from one of them could he continue further away and eventually back down. A man pulled himself up onto that roof, eyes wide and staring, mouth contorted with unbridled aggression. Whatever was in the concoction that had been unleashed on these people, it made them wild.

There was nothing else to do. Sirendor ran towards the edge and jumped, prepared to fight the other man the moment he landed on the other roof.

He never did. Out of mid jump, something snatched him and carried him up, claws digging painfully into his shoulders. He was too shocked to cry out or struggle. Incredibly fast, the buildings underneath raced past until they became smaller and smaller, became shacks, and were eventually replaced by fields. Whatever held him approached the ground, and for a horrible moment Sirendor thought he would be smashed against it.

He wasn't. He was put down gently, and when he turned, he faced Varilia. 'What in the name of all the Gods was that?' he managed. He was shaking, probably sheet white.

'I carried you away before the fine people of Lan Exeter decided you had to die. What were you thinking?'

'That I didn't want to be killed by whatever fumes were getting the lot of them worked up?'

'Hmm.' She looked him up and down. 'I hurt you.'

Sirendor looked down on himself. His left shoulder was bleeding, but it wasn't too worrisome. 'Varilia … how?'

'I can … transform.'

'Oh, dear Gods. Into what? A wyvern?'

'Not quite.'

He swallowed. 'Our people. Are they all right?'

Varilia sighed. 'No. The other two were killed. One by a guard, one by the crowd.' She grabbed Sirendor's upper arms. 'Go to Pont Vanis. Find our leader. He wants to see you.'

'How do I find someone whose name I don't know?'

'By the time you get there, he will have made contact with The Raven. Go, Sirendor. Be safe.'

Ϡ

When the robed man with the hood hiding his face approached them, Hirad wasn't truly surprised. He had watched them throughout their discussion; had watched Regis leave, tight-lipped and with a vulture-like posture; had watched Thaler depart soon after, looking entirely defeated, with Delia in tow. The two men had told the story of how Regis had found Shani missing, of Thaler's suspicion that hadn't quite gone away, of climbing through windows and of contacts the two men had. Thaler would, once more, try to get hold of Delia's acquaintance. And Regis would try to contact other people of the night, as he had called them in his colourful language.

Hirad wondered if their desperation was as tangible for the stranger as it was for him, and if he, too had found that The Unknown had watched Delia leave with more concern than necessary. The decision to sit down and discuss their next step in the common room was a conscious one. If they secluded themselves, they invited more spies. 'Need help? Like how to be less obvious?' Hirad asked the figure. 'Not very inconspicuous, your getup.' He gestured to his hood.

'I am not trying to be inconspicuous. I have my reasons. I would like to speak with you, but not here.' The stranger spoke very quietly, his tone hoarse as if he wasn't used to talking.

'Think you can take us if we're isolated?'

The man's voice when he answered was entirely patient. 'No. I want to help you, but I have no intention to be taken like your friend Shani.' Hirad and The Unknown both rose in one fluid motion, each grabbing one of the stranger's arms. 'There is no need for violence. I would have spoken sooner, but the three who left are dark horses to me. You understand, I believe? I don't know how well you know them. Let me go, my friends.'

'I am not your friend,' Hirad said in a quiet but dark voice. 'Sit. Talk.'

'Cut me down where I stand, if you must, but I will not talk here.'

The barbarian exchanged a glance with The Unknown Warrior, who gave a shrug. 'Let's get to the sideroom. He seems a bit feeble.'

'Try anything and you'll find me very unfriendly,' Hirad told him casually but lightened his grip on the stranger by a degree. 'Off you go.'

Once secluded in the smaller room to the side of the inn, the man pulled his hood back. Ilkar clapped his hand over his mouth and stared, wide-eyed, at the stranger. Hirad tried to catch his eye, but when the elf shook his head by a small fraction he let it go and took a good look at the newly revealed face instead. He was old, his face disfigured as if someone had held his head into a fireplace. 'What the hell happened to you?'

He answered in a low chuckle. 'A bar fight with the wrong person. A mage. It wasn't pleasant, but he was guilt-ridden enough after his … eruption to save my life. And it did serve its purpose, in the end.'

'You got your face burnt and think it served a purpose.' The Unknown stood in the door, blocking the man's exit effectively if he chose to leave abruptly, his arms folded. 'Are you one of those fire people?'

'You mean the idiots of the Eternal Fire?' The old man looked disgusted. 'No. I'm with the Preservers. You do know, by now, what they are.'

'They're our enemies.'

'Unknown,' Ilkar said quickly, his voice rough, 'he's not our enemy.'

The stranger's eyes shone. 'You know me, Ilkar?'

The elf nodded. 'I do. I just don't understand. What do you want with the Preservers? And if you work for them …' He fell silent and approached the other man, his eyes alight. 'Except you don't. You're a spy. You work against them?'

'On all the fronts I dare. I am the man Thaler is looking for out there. But I could not let Delia see my face, of course.' He started pacing. 'It's easy to do the right thing when you've got nothing left to lose. I was married on Balaia, had two beautiful kids. But they, like so many, didn't survive the demons. I made it here, thanks to you, and hoped for a long time you would follow. Only you didn't, and eventually I gave up hoping I'd ever see you again. I kept out of all the political nonsense, including the appearance of the Preservers.' He halted and looked squarely at Ilkar. 'But now I'm sick. I don't have all that much time left. I have literally nothing to lose. And when I realised that, I wanted to fight again. Not with my sword, I'm too old for that. But this head up here's still good enough.' A small smile formed on his face. 'In Lan Exeter, the local leaders of the Preservers are being assassinated as we speak, but Lan Exeter … it's not the main problem. The Preservers there will be easily routed, the real threat is here. The only reason why they need to die is to make certain no help from outside is coming to the leader.

'The good news for us is that Sirendor Larn might even be on his way here already. I do wish to see him again. I also wish to see this through. Unknown …' He took a deep breath. 'I will arrange a meeting with the leader of the Preservers. I am his second in command. I will convince him to meet with The Raven. Do not let who he is blind you. He cannot be saved.'

'And Shani?' Ilkar asked. 'Do you know who has her?'

'The Preservers. She is probably still alive, but not unharmed. Your vampire friend will find nothing.' He looked at them all in turn, his eyes shimmering as if he were close to tears. 'Meet with the leader, but don't strike yet. Wait for Sirendor. He is a part of our organisation, a full member by now. Cut Delia loose, I wouldn't trust her. I will take the leader down myself, but only with your agreement. If you hadn't come, it would have been easier. So much easier.'

The Unknown looked every bit as unconvinced as Hirad felt. 'You say not to trust Delia. Why should we trust you?'

Ilkar swallowed. 'You're all blind. Used to your kind aging so quickly, but you don't recognise each other after time has wrought a bit of change on your faces.' He shook himself, a smile forming on his face. 'We trust him. We know him. He's scarred and four decades older, but he's Talan.'

After a few seconds of heavy silence, everyone started talking at once around Hirad. He couldn't find his voice. He just stared at the old man in front of him. In his mind, the injuries and the evidence of so much time passing peeled away, leaving a face so very familiar. He hadn't approached him consciously, but he found himself right in front of Talan, clasping his shoulders and smiling despite the burning in his eyes. 'You said you're ill. What's wrong with you?'

'Cancer. I don't know how long I have, but it's enough to see this through, Hirad.'

'And you? What's your role in this? You plan to become an assassin? I don't believe you.'

Talan looked infinitely tired. The others had stopped talking and waited for his answer instead. 'The codex binds you, but not me.'

'But we do object,' Ilkar said. 'You told us if we do you'll leave it alone. I don't need to meet the man to know that this isn't the solution. We'll meet him. Talk to him. And if he doesn't back down, we'll ask you to arrange another meeting. Do you believe that he would refuse either that or that he would stand without drawing his weapons? Refuse to fight?'

'You haven't changed, and though it makes everything difficult, it's a good thing. I wish the same were true for me.' Talan shook his head. 'You need to meet with him. Before that, you can't understand why I hesitate or why I even consider such an act. Don't bring Thaler, only The Raven. Perhaps use Delia as leverage.'

'When and where?' The Unknown asked roughly.

Talan smiled at him. 'Tonight at sunset. On the barrow outside the city. You know it? Don't worry, it's too old for necrophages.' He fell silent. 'He and I will come alone. There won't be a battle tonight. Be prepared that this is going to be a painful encounter, Unknown. You will hear things that you're not going to like. The kind that warrants a stiff drink afterwards.'

'You going to join us for that bit?' The Unknown asked.

Talan gave a short laugh. 'I wouldn't miss it.'