Page 40 of The Second Death of Locke
And by her calculations, by the place Kier had pointed to on the map, they were many days’ walk from Luthar. Perhaps they were merchants, but this was a sleepy inn with no village, and there was no reason for them to be here… unless.
Unless someone else had evaluated all paths from Mecketer to Grislar and sent packs out to hunt.
Unless they had noticed that Pista was the last large market village before one reached the easiest of the mountain passes, and decided that a retinue moving quickly would aim for it, too.
One of the men was looking at her, taking in the tension of her jaw, the grip of her hands on the counter. She knew what they were seeing immediately: her age, her bearing, her scars. Her hand went to her hip unconsciously—and she realized she wore her sword there, like a soldier, instead of across her back like a merchant or traveler. Muscle memory.
So much for being undercover.
The tavern keeper returned with two glasses of ale and took the men’s Scaelan money—Grey didn’t miss how one of them shuffled out all the Luthrite, stuffing it in his pockets.
“Your husband left a tab open,” the woman said cheerfully, turning to Grey. “Can I get you anything?”
One of the men said something to the other. They made their way to a third and fourth, sitting at the back table.
“Just water,” Grey said, her voice small and awkward. “If you please.”
The innkeeper nodded, turning back to get glasses. “Busy day we’re having,” she said to Grey, maybe to no one. “Not often so manytravelers rolling through at this time of year. Where did your husband say you were going? Coastal, right?”
Grey’s fingers dug into the counter. The men were clearly listening. She itched, above all, to run. “No,” she said, smiling as the woman offered her the pitcher and glasses.
The innkeeper grabbed her wrist. “Ah, well these folks said they’re heading to Grislar. They were asking around if there was anyone here heading to the coast, looking to share resources. Wasn’t sure if you were going that way, too.”
There was something in her voice. She’d noticed Grey’s sword, and probably Kier’s. Perhaps she’d even heard Sela call KierCaptain. Whatever she’d observed, she did not trust the men in the corner, and neither did Grey.
Behind her, she felt a shift, a fizzle, a change as one of the mages tethered to their well.
“Thanks,” she said. She turned on her heel and headed back through the doors that led to the rooms. There was no time to warn Ola, let alone retrieve her. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Grey dashed up the stairs.
Lesson one of protecting your mage: you have no natural advantages. Train to fight as if there is no difference between you and a typic. In a battle situation, even with your mage’s abilities, you have only your own blade, your own body’s strength, your own combat skills. Do not shirk this training.
Wielding Power, Volume 1: Third Edition, revisedPD
eleven
“LUTHRITE TRACKERS DOWNSTAIRS,” SHEsaid as she burst through the door, spilling water all down her shirt. Brit looked up from their blade, brow furrowed.
“What?”
“Move fast,” Grey said. She locked the door, then started to drag the flimsy wardrobe over in front of it. She wished it was heavier, sturdier—there was no chance it would hold. “If we can’t get out, we’ll have to fight them.”
Brit jumped to help her. “How do you know?” they asked.
“How they spoke. Coin. Innkeeper tipped me off,” she said through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t matter if I’m being paranoid—I’m not taking any fucking chances.” She examined the window, the drop below, but the garden was fenced all along, and there was no sign of a gate. Plus, if they ran, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to lead them back to Kier.
It was better to fight. Leave no survivors.
“Are they here for us?” Sela asked. She stood uselessly on the other side of the room, her hands fluttering like she didn’t know what to do with them.
She’s a kid, Grey chided herself. For all her annoyance, that factstill hung heavy in her stomach. Whoever Sela was,whatever Sela was, she was just a kid.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll deal with it. Now get down. Away from the window. In that corner, under the desk.”
Sela nodded, but Grey could see the panic in her face. Grey flipped the desk so the top protected Sela’s body, so she could curl up in the middle of it and be safe on all sides. She dumped the weapons they wouldn’t use with the girl. Those cool blue eyes peered up at her, devoid of any of the arrogance she’d had in camp. This time, Sela was scared.
It was only because she was listening very carefully that she heard the boots on the stairs.
“Captain?” Brit murmured.
