Page 29 of The Flame and the Forsaken

He cast one last glance at the blacksmith shop and headed for the inn. Fortunately, Samuel was alone, and after listening to the situation, he simply grabbed his waistcoat and followed Erran.

“I don’t wish to alert her or frighten her, aye? I just want to keep her out of trouble,” he said as they rounded the corner. He spotted the boy dipping out of the shop and jogging across the road to where Vesper was tethered. They headed toward him.

“You really think she’ll try to bond him?” Samuel asked.

“There’s no bond for him until someone speaks on his behalf or he goes to trial, so all she’ll do is cause a stir.” He dug the remaining coin from his pocket and regarded the boy. “What did you find for me?”

“Donnae ken anything they were talking about, truth be told.” The boy scratched his head with a frown.

“They?”

“Saw ’em through the crack in the door of the apartment upstairs. Man and two women. One was the woman you asked about, I ken.” He held out his hand. “Dark hair and the lot.”

“And?” Erran pressed, sharing a glance with Samuel. He closed the coin in his fist, the boy’s eyes following the movement.

“Told ye, I donnae ken. Something about Sandymount and a man they need to see. Makes flags or some such. Was all nonsense to me. One of ’em said it was too dangerous.” He flashed his hand again. “That’s all I heard. Swear.”

Erran reluctantly paid the boy and watched him retrieve his apple crate and scamper off.

“What business does she have in Sandymount?” Samuel asked.

“Couldn’t say,” Erran muttered, but a startling thought crept into the back of his mind, followed by a recollection of what he’d seen the night before, when he’d intercepted Mariel on the road at what had clearly been the crime scene for the stolen golden egg. “But I intend to find?—”

He froze when three individuals emerged from the blacksmith shop: Mariel, followed by the same man who had visited her in Mistgrave, and... his mother’s seamstress?

“I’ve seen that woman before.” Samuel squinted.

“Go get your horse.” Erran tucked back into the alley, following the movements of Mariel and her cohorts.

Samuel shook his head. “We’re going to Sandymount, aren’t we?”

Erran swung onto his saddle. “Aye, and you might just need to catch up to me because I’m not letting them out of my sight.”

Mariel knewthe way to Sandymount because the nearest village, Devon, was where her ship was anchored. It was close enough to Whitecliffe that she could reach it if she needed to but far enough away that the Rutlands never had to know their daughter-in-law evenhada ship, let alone that she’d won it off a grizzled buccaneer one sweltering night in a game of billiards.

Even had she needed direction, the line of decorated caravans, transport for the wealthy, would have been easy enough to discern. Her belly turned at the thought of them all lining up to bid on land they had no right to. Mariel wasn’t naïve enough to believe stopping the auction would stanch the gluttony, but Obsidian Sky had always been about slowing the bleed. Even if they were successful in stealing and redistributing all that wealth, the men in those positions would never relinquish their power.

“How will we even find this man, Banner?” Augustine asked as they passed under the village gates, riding between two caravans.

“Leave it to me,” Remy said. They’d ridden the two hours mostly in silence. “He’s a broker, so he’ll have banking connections.”

Mariel snorted, annoyed but not with him. A banker wouldn’t even speak to a woman unless she had her own private account, and there was a sub-zero chance a banker would ever reveal information about the whereabouts of a colleague to one. “Auggie and I can ask around in the taverns. Sandymount is mostly a dry village, but there are two pubs here, so that makes it simple enough.”

“Do that, and we’ll meet up in an hour just there,” he said, pointing at a giant tree in the middle of a square that served as the intersection of the four main roads. “I don’t have to tell you both to choose your words carefully. The stewards are already spooked, and the last thing we need is word getting to any of them that people are asking around.”

“Well, I don’t even have to lie when I say I have a husband in need of a property broker,” Mariel said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure Auggie and I can smile and look pretty long enough to quell suspicion.”

“You’re both beautiful,” Remy said, his tone earnest. “I’d be properly cross if the next time I saw either of you was in a jail cell I had no power or authority to spring you from.”

“Who are you talking to?” Mariel laughed and leaned across her horse to nudge him. Her mirth faded. “It wasn’t personal before, Remy, but it is now, aye? I don’t trust the steward to do a damn thing to help my brother, so it’s on us. This is for Destin.”

“For Destin,” the Perevil siblings replied in concert.

“They’ve split up,”Samuel said.

“Aye.” Erran squinted as Mariel took the seamstress’s hand in hers and stepped into a tavern near the crossroads. What Mariel was even doing with the girl was confounding, but it was only one piece in the convoluted puzzle his wife had crafted behind his back.

They’d given the group enough of a lead to blend in with the other travelers coming to Sandymount for the auction, which should have had two more weeks of planning. Playing into fear was not a good strategy. Unlike his father, Erran didn’t think the event was at risk. Obsidian Sky was a thorn in the side of all Rutlands—and all barons who answered to them—but it was full of amateur outlaws. Petty theft was one thing; pirating a hoard of gold that had to be more protected than the king himself was another.

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