It was dark, but Cenric glared at Hróarr all the same. “You can wait with the ship if you don’t like it.”
“And leave my cousin alone in the streets of Kyrna? My mother’s spirit would spit in my mead.” Hróarr grunted. “Besides, I never liked Ielda.”
Wet,Snapper complained, slinking along beside Cenric.Inside?
Soon,Cenric answered. They should be out of the rain in a few moments.
Kyrna was not a city when compared to Ungamot. But Kyrna was home to some thousand or so permanent residents, which made it a city by Valdari standards.
The streets were crooked, intersecting at odd angles with irregular widths. Unlike Ungamot, this was not a place used to horses and most of it had to be accessed on foot.
Cenric didn’t have his full armor with him, but he had his bracers reinforced with iron slats. He doubted he would need them, but one could never be too careful with Valdari.
They had rowed all day to reach Kyrna shortly after noon. The men were tired and Cenric was sore with fresh blisters on his hands. But after a few hours’ rest, he had dragged the others into the city.
Hopefully, Ielda would still be here.
Cenric and Hróarr led the way, their cloaks drawn over their heads against a misting rain. At their backs followed Kalen and a pair of Hróarr’s warriors.
Kyrna’s streets were dark, but light spilled out of doorways and through cracked windows. The city wasn’t large enough to have a proper red quarter the way Ungamot did, but it wasgenerally understood that raiders wouldn’t have to go far from the docks to waste their newfound riches.
“This way,” said their guide, the surviving raider. He walked stiffly ahead, his shoulders hunched against the rain. The man was jumpy and anxious, probably aware of how tenuously his life hung in the balance.
The raider led them around the street corner to a large structure that looked like a barn or warehouse of some sort. The rain washed the air of any smells that might have provided clues.
“Here.” The raider pointed to the entrance. “In there.”
Snapper inspected the dark building.Meat. Fire.
The dyrehund could smell something cooking inside. This was probably the right spot.
Cenric tossed the raider a pair of silver coins. “Don’t let me see your face again.”
The raider snatched the coins out of the air before scampering off into the dark. If word got back after tonight that he had been the one to give Ielda away, the raider’s miserable life would likely be cut short in an even more miserable manner.
“Let the fun begin.” Hróarr rubbed his hands together before pushing the door open.
Cenric worked to contain his own excitement. There was nothing quite like the thrill of the chase, of outsmarting your prey. Valdari called themselves wolves and wolves were meant for the hunt.
Inside, someone had built a large fire at the center of the room. A hole had been cut in the roof with an elevated cover to let the smoke out, but not elements in. All the same, not all the smoke escaped properly, filling the large building with smog.
It was a wonder the building hadn’t gone up in flames yet. Cenric would need to be mindful of the exits.
Over the fire hung a large kettle, filled with some sort of stew based on the smell. Figures sat around on makeshift tables,using overturned buckets and stools as chairs. Some forms lay passed out on the ground. It was getting late, but not that late.
A pair of men beside the stew pot accepted coins in exchange for bowls of steaming food. Two more guarded what appeared to be several casks of ale, most likely stolen based on their mismatched sizes and the color of their wood.
Off to the back, Cenric espied a guard at the foot of a staircase leading up to the attic. That would be where the whores could be found.
Snapper stepped into the shelter of the barn, letting off a great shake of his whole body, flinging water in all directions.Good shake,Snapper thought appreciatively.
Hróarr cursed, shielding his face from the flinging droplets. Cenric didn’t understand the point since their cloaks were already damp.
Friends?Snapper cocked his head, lowering his snout to study the smells. He headed off, circling the barn like he did with most new spaces.
Cenric stepped over the legs of a comatose man as he entered. This was not the most derelict establishment he had visited, but it was not the best, either. Though perhapsestablishmentwas the wrong word. This was probably a group of independent people who had gathered in this storehouse for the night with or without the owner’s permission.
“There’s Ielda,” Hróarr said under his breath. “The one losing his guts in the corner.”
