Shadow Weaver (Back on Wattpad 2020!)

Chapter 13

A wall of heat and a babble of voices hit us as we enter the tavern. It is like stepping into a now-time representation of the mind-world. Incomprehensible noise and movement. Too many smells all crushed together—pies, drinking ale, sweat, meat. Tug expertly guides me through the raucous crowd to a dark passage with a wooden stairway. Either he has an excellent sixth sense, or he has been here before.

I check back to see no one has taken an interest in us and catch the expression on Tug's face. I'm learning to read the tattoo-distorted features. He doubts anyone capable of paying one hundred Carucan gold pieces would slum it here.

"He doesn't want to be found," I say. But as I mutter the words, my insides contract with anxiety. Surely even a Prince in disguise would not live in such unimpressive quarters. Unless he has been stripped of all coin during the assassination attempt and has no intention or means of returning to his former status, in which case he is useless to me.

We stop on the first floor landing. Four doors, two on either side of the corridor. Grunting and moaning float through the nearest one. Blood rises to my cheeks. Oblivious, Tug moves along to the next and presses his ear against it.

"It is too late to withdraw your brother from the sale," he says quietly. "It is not how the Pit works. I cannot say I've changed my mind and leave with him."

"So hire someone. Pay them to put in a higher offer. You advance him the gold and once the exchange is made, he will bring Kel to an arranged meeting point out of the Hybourg."

"We are in a town of thieves and mercenaries, Mirra. If I hire a man to buy your brother, give him ten Carucan gold for the purchase, he will either vanish like the wind, or take the money and the boy and run."

Discouraged, I puff outwards. His logic is infallible. If Tug or Brin had any reliable connections in the Hybourg, they would have asked them to help escort Kel to the Pit.

"The identity and destination of Kel's buyer," Tug continues, "is the best you can hope for. Cooperate and I will find out the name of the man who has bought him and where they are headed."

This is no better than the deal I thought I could wheedle before I discovered the whereabouts of the Prince! Frustration pounds me like a kick to the stomach. I halt in the corridor, planting my feet on the wooden floor, folding my arms.

"What assurances do I have you will share the buyer's identity? You said it yourself, I cannot trust you."

"It is the best offer you'll get." He watches me serenely, knowing my decision before I've even made it. I should have stayed in the Pit. Close to Kel. The Gods are not helping me. The Prince is a distraction, a decoy.

I point to the furthest door where I sense the ravaged mind, and raise two fingers to show there are two people inside. Tug edges close, listens at the keyhole, then twists the handle.

"Who's there?" a voice calls.

"Tell him you've come for the sheets," Tug whispers.

"I have your word about Kel?"

"My word is worth nothing."

"Who's there?" the voice asks again.

If his word was worth nothing, he would not refuse to give it. "Your word," I insist.

The door swings open. Before either of us can react, the hilt of a sword hits Tug in the throat. He grips his windpipe, spluttering and staggering sideways.

Instinct makes me reach for his knife to defend myself, but I stop halfway. With the King's soldiers hunting the sword-wielding Prince, and an assassination attempt on his life, he is bound to be edgy. As I do not wish to give away my combative nature, I resist the impulse. I do not want him to watch me as militantly as Tug and Brin once I'm in his hands. But I'm heartily disappointed the Prince shows skill enough with a sword to disarm Tug. A sword, which I now find myself at one end of—the tip digging into the flesh between my collarbones just below the bloodstained rag.