I could tell he was lying. The words came out quickly, and his mouth twitched. But I did not know him well enough to press. Nothing drove someone away quicker than digging into wounds that had yet to heal.
“Let me see that page of yours,” Percy asked.
Handing it to him, I watched as he leaned against a quiet wall and scribbled away. When he returned the page, a surprisingly detailed sketch of a man decorated the corner.
The older man’s portrait bore a resemblance to Percy, albeit with far more hair. This would be easy enough to replicate. Looking up, I examined his features.
“Is this your father?” I asked.
“How could you tell?”
“He looks just like you.”
“Oh, don’t say that.” Percy frowned. “Yes. He’s my father.”
Glancing down at the officer’s portrait, my mind wandered. Lords’ sons always inherited their land and titles. How had this one become a wandering bard who brawled with bartenders?
“Why not dye your hair?” I blurted out.
“We’ll have to. Pops has black hair.”
“No, not for the disguise. For yourself.”
“Why not?” He seemed surprised by the question. “I. . . I like it this way.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Pushing open the door to a small fabric shop, I scanned the shelves.
Master Ainwir had taught me how to fill a basket with everything you’d need for a job without arousing suspicion. If I ever saw him again, I’d thank him for the lessons.
And then slit his throat.
* * *
Leaning against the inn’s stone wall, I slid onto the soft grass and sifted through the contents of my bag. Everything I needed to stitch together a noble’s dress and an officer’s cloak was here. Now we just needed a live body to strip a uniform from.
Something told me that was a task Seraphim would happily take care of.
The inn door swung open, and the woman in question emerged, bottle in hand. Dirt crusted her boots, and tears riddled her coat, but her confident stride commanded authority nonetheless.
“Drink?” She held out a glass.
“Thanks.” I accepted, crossing my legs and balancing the glass on my knee.
“You agreed to help.” Seraphim sat beside me, setting the bottle on the ground. “But I never asked you to join the team.”
“I assumed they were one and the same.”
“Not necessarily. We’ll need to have each other’s backs if we’re to forge into the unknown.”
I chuckled, sipping the wine. “I’ll join.”
Seraphim grinned, pouring herself a glass.
A couple walked by, laughing. The lights were still on in the tavern across the street. Shadows passed the windows. Dancing. Drinking.
It certainly didn’t seem like the world was ending. All my life, the Empty had simply been an obstacle to avoid. Everyone else thought the same. To city folk, it might as well not exist.
Seraphim gazed wistfully at the night sky. “Can you imagine a time when there were still miles and miles of sprawling country? Where lords fought over land?”
