The bell clanged as new patrons entered the Ivory Spit. Mistel craned her neck, trying to see. Scattered greetings rose up near the door.
“It’s the Ox!”
“Evening, Torin.”
“The army’s returned, has it?”
“We arrived just today,” said a beardless bald man in a Tsaftown army uniform. The only hair on his face was a long black mustache. “I’ll take a pint, Darri.”
“Me too.” This from the bald man’s younger companion, also in uniform.
Mistel didn’t recognize the bald man from the journey here, though the younger one had spoken often with Derby Wenk. He had messy brown curly hair and patches of scruff on his cheeks. Either he shaved very poorly or was failing in his attempt to grow a beard.
“Do you know those men?” she asked Zanna.
The woman glanced over Mistel’s head. “Older one is Torin Oxbow. He’s with Gunnar Gedmund. Both in the Fighting Fifteen.”
“Heard there was trouble at the hall tonight, Ox,” said a white-haired man near the hearth. “Howlers are in an uproar.”
“Let them roar,” Oxbow said. “They had no business at Lord Livna’s homecoming banquet, let alone starting a brawl.”
“What were they fighting about?” asked a man with a pockmarked face.
“No idea,” Oxbow said. “But they were fighting with Kurtz Chazir, so it was likely over a woman.”
A chorus of laughter rang out.
Mistel perked up. Kurtz had been planning some diversion so Cole could steal Thusk’s keys. He must have picked a fight.
Darri carried two frothing mugs of ale to the men’s table. Oxbow swept his up and took a long drink.
“Thought Kurtz was on Ice Island for treason,” said the pockmarked man.
“The king freed him,” Darri said. “It was all lies. Kurtz and Sir Eagan both falsely accused.”
“I knew that much the day it happened,” the old man said. “Those boys would never have betrayed King Axel. Where they been?”
“Went south with the real prince and Sir Gavin and Lord Livna and the army—all of us,” Oxbow said. “We fought alongside them in Armonguard. Sir Eagan is down there still—pledged to marry Nitsa Amal, if you can believe that. But Kurtz came back with us. Hasn’t passed one night here and already locked up again, the unlucky fool.”
Mistel grabbed Zanna’s arm.
“Locked up with the Howler?” the old man asked.
“Nah.” Oxbow took another drink. “Lady Viola sent Kurtz and his friend to the dungeon for the night.” He started to laugh. “Dunn and Lysander Thane brought them down when me and Gunnar were on duty. Kurtz verbally skinned me bare, so when it was time to leave, I didn’t bother telling the next shift how long the new prisoners were meant to stay. Who knows? Lady Viola might forget about them, and they’ll be there a week. Maybe more.”
The crowd chuckled.
“Now we know where they are.” Zanna ate another bite of chicken dumplings and spoke over a full mouth. “Safe and sound in the dungeon of Lytton Hall.”
How awful. Mistel leaned over the table and whispered, “We have to get them out.”
“Just how will we do that?” Zanna snapped. “You going to reason with Lady Viola? You’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
“You don’t have to be mean,” Mistel said. “I’m sure she’ll be reasonable when we tell her…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze locked onto the keys clipped to Ox’s belt.
“No, do go on,” Zanna said. “Love to hear your plan.”
Mistel folded her arms and sank back in her chair. If she shared her idea, Zanna would surely try to stop her.
