Isla shoved the inn door open, the heavy wood groaning from age. Her hand snatched the knob, returning the slab without a whining gripe.
Skimming the inn's occupants, she spotted Rydin and Squirt conversing with Callum. She joined their group, leaning against the extruded surface.
"Any luck?" she asked over the explicit chatter.
Rydin's body turned, his face a healthy color. "He's there."
Isla crossed her arms. "At least you know where he is. Let's focus on the rescue. The ship will leave late tonight. We should plan for the worst."
Rydin cocked his head. "And that would be?"
"Several dozen men or more." Her eyes flickered to Squirt for confirmation.
"Aye." Squirt raised his mug and took a lengthy swig.
She twisted her body to face the bar, tapping on the counter to draw Callum's attention. "Care to lend a hand?"
Callum was refilling a batch of chipped wooden mugs with honed precision. "What can I do for ye, lass?"
"Spread a rumor that they're moving the kidnapped children tonight. Even if the families are being secretive about the kidnappings, they'll jump at a chance to counterattack."
"Aye, makes sense. But will they act?" His eyebrows lifted in question.
"They'll want to, or risk losing their only chance. And if they don't, well, we just prepare in advance."
"My men be tied up. Can't be lendin' ye some. But I can help ye with the rumor."
Isla nodded. "That's fine. Rydin, follow me. We'll prepare a few items then head over." She straightened her posture and kneaded a dark, damp spot on her cloak with her thumb.
"Okay." Rydin hopped off the barstool and pulled his gray mantle close.
"Good luck ye two," Callum said, raising a hand at their retreating forms.
Exiting the Quiet Fox, Isla scanned both directions limited traffic. Best be wary, who knew if those earlier thugs had uncovered her wanted status or their current quandary had been exposed. For either reason, the situation required alertness.
"This way," she commented with the tilt of her head.
"What's the plan?"
"We need to pick up a few supplies at the market first. Have you inscribed before?"
Rydin scratched his chin, his response delayed. "No, but I've heard about it. Engraving magic into an object, right?"
"Yes. We'll use a spell to initiate our attack. One capable of immobilizing our foes. Then we rush in and finish them before they have time to fight. Plus, magic will put them on edge."
"Wait. You'll use magic?" Rydin's tone inflected.
"No, you will. I'll create the vessel for you."
"Hmm, okay."
She muzzled a laugh at his downhearted response. His curiosity knew no bounds. Even though his brother faced potential danger, his bright mood recovered, losing its melancholy surge.
They turned onto main street, leaving the outer district and weaving through the market crowd. The flow stiffened as they reached the city heart with travelers and residents perusing stalls. Isla moved behind a fragrant, assorted fruit stand, the remnants of last night's downpour soaked into the overhead fabric.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Rydin questioned.
"A cheap item to act as the medium. Preferably something durable but malleable."
"What?"
She sighed. "Forget it. This way." Isla strolled onwards, her direction the opposite corner of the central square.
An earthy scent glazed the market, the inbound clouds calm but the perfect two-faced cheat. Still, they reached the peculiar eye-catching stall she had spotted dry. Precious materials in their rawest form, but the perfect vessel for holding aura. She reached for one shiny and tinted hazel. "How much for this?"
The old wrinkled shopkeeper threw up his frail hand, palm open. "Five gold pieces."
A steep price for an item she would abandon. But if the spell executed her plan without unnecessary complications then who could care. She retrieved the requested amount from her spoils and handed them over.
"So, how does this work?" Rydin pestered as they left the central square.
"Let's get into position first, then we'll talk."