Her eyes widened slightly at the weight of it, but she nodded gratefully. Then in a low voice, for him only, she murmured, “Keep a guarded eye. Her unique coloring may mark her in the eyes of evil men.”
Venn’s skin heated, but he managed a slight nod. “Thank you for all you’ve done.”
“It was my pleasure.” She lifted the heavy pouch with a wink. “And good business.”
While Jaadah made her way to the door, Venn crossed to the bed and sat beside Vera. He heard the physician leave the room, and that’s when he spoke. “Bennick’s here.”
Her eyes widened. “Is he . . .?”
“He can stand, but he’s clearly still suffering from his injury.” Venn wasn’t foolish enough to think he’d be able to stop him from looking for Clare, though.
“Did you tell him everything? About Clare?”
“Yes.” He glanced over his shoulder and spotted Bennick and Wilf through the open door, standing in the hall. Bennick was looking at him and Vera, seated side by side.
His gaze was haunted.
Venn angled back toward Vera. “Do you need anything?”
“No.” She shot a quick look at Bennick, offering him a thin smile. “Go to him,” she murmured. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll check on you later,” he promised.
She nodded, and he left her on the bed. As he strode for the door, he had to remind himself that she hadn’t ordered him to leave. She may be distant, but this wasn’t like in Wexon. She was tired; worried about Clare. That was all.
His shoulders were still too tight as he joined Bennick and Wilf in the hall.
He tugged the door closed, letting it click shut. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I need to speak to Zilas,” Bennick said. He nodded to Wilf. “I told him about the Rose’s link to me.”
Venn wasn’t really surprised that Bennick had told Wilf about the Rose being his half-brother, but he didn’t like the idea of his friend talking to the assassin. The Rose was a taunting, arrogant, evil man who would prey on every exposed weakness Bennick had.
Venn glanced at Wilf, but the bodyguard’s pox-scarred face was implacable. He focused back on Bennick. “What more can the Rose tell us? He’s already given us the three taverns.”
“I have a plan to get Clare away from Salim—hopefully without a fight,” Bennick said. “But I’ll need Zilas’s help.”
Curiosity rose, though he still worried about Bennick interacting with the assassin. Still, he didn’t argue or even ask for details as he wordlessly led the way to the Rose’s room. After all, if there was a chance this could help Clare, there would be no dissuading Bennick.
But he didn’t have to face that demon alone.
Bennick’s plan to use the Rose just might work.
If they were lucky enough to spot Clare tonight, the Rose would approach Salim as he’d done in the past, looking to hire him. He would offer to buy Clare, if possible, since that would be safest for her. But if Salim refused, the Rose would at least be able to get close enough to get past their guard. He could pull a knife on Salim, and barter for Clare’s life that way.
Fates, Venn hoped they found Clare tonight. Waiting at the Black Scorpion for news was a unique torture.
Vera waited with him in the common room. The space was otherwise deserted, since it was past the dinner hour and the Black Scorpion’s other tenants had either retired to their rented beds, or gone out.
Venn paced, unable to sit still. Vera sat at one of the tables near the door. A mug of ale rested in front of her, but she hadn’t touched it for the last half hour. Her gaze kept returning to the door, as did his.
“They’ve been gone a long time,” she whispered. “Do you think that’s because they haven’t found her?”
“I don’t know. Possibly.”
Vera bit her lip. “What if the Rose is lying about those inns? What if Salim goes somewhere else?”
Venn scrubbed the back of his neck. “The Rose wants his freedom. We have to trust in that.”
