“Do you still have it written down?”
“No, I burned it like he told me. But he and Gil were testing me and reminding me of the places I forgot, and Akhane heard a lot, so she helps too.”
I nodded approval. “Can you tell me the safehouses and contacts here in Emberholt?”
She bit her lip. “There are three. And they can lead me to more.”
“Do you know the Inn?”
Bren nodded. “The Stonebridge Inn is in the outer limits of the city and found by crossing the stone bridge from the main Wall Road into the Coin District.”
“Very good. Have you seen a map?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember a lot, except that there’s a piemaker nearby, and the bridge of course.”
“The bridge is a landmark in the city. You can ask anyone and they’ll direct you. But the important thing to remember is that it’s an almost straight-shot from the southern gate. Now, tell me the other first contacts you can use in an emergency.”
I listened, relieved, while she correctly recounted that she could safely approach either of the tavern owners at the Crowned Stag. They were a couple, originally from Vosgaarde, though growing older now, so I didn’t know how much longer we could use them. She also remembered the apothecary, Moorleaf and Sons.
“If you’re hurt and fleeing, you go straight there. Moorleaf is a crabby bastard, but he’ll take care of you, and hide you well. He’ll just complain about it the entire time.”
Bren’s lips twisted.
“We’re going to the Inn, because I’ve known Horace the longest and am the most confident in him, but any of them would be safe, especially if you’re alone. Reaching the Inn at this hour, Horace will likely be asleep, unless he’s baking. But you watch and listen to how I ask for him. If you were to comewithout me, don’t make a fuss, but if a servant is reluctant to disturb him, you insist—use the code that you have an important message from his distant family in the south, so there’s no suspicion.”
“Yes, Gil told me about that.”
“Good.” I was glad her brothers had been preparing her well, but she’d had so little time…
The city of Emberholt was fortified, but in peacetime kept its gates open to travelers, even at night, though there were guards at every gate. I felt their eyes as we passed into the cones of light from the torches on both the outside and inside of the walls thick enough to house stables and servants. But I’d been careful not to carry visible weapons, and walking with a young woman, the men wouldn’t stop me unless I caused a scene.
I nodded to the shift-leader of the guards, but didn’t slow. He gave me a single nod back and turned back to watching the road.
Good.
It was several blocks to walk in nearly silent streets before we reached the bridge. Just before we’d cross the cobbled road, I caught Bren’s elbow and pulled her to a stop.
“That’s the bridge,” I said, tipping my head towards it, rubbing hands up and down her arms—praying if anyone was awake to look out their windows, they’d just see a soldier with his lover, escorting her to safety after a night together.
“I see it,” Bren whispered, with a small smile.
I grinned back, but it faded quickly. “The moment we step in that door and are forced to engage, it’s known that we’re here, and we are remembered by strangers. This is only the first step, but from this moment on, there are watchers on our backs, do you understand?” She nodded. I cleared my throat. “Do you have any last questions?”
She shook her head, but leaned closer to me. “I’m ready,” she said, and though there was a tiny shake in her whisper, Ialso knew it was as true as it could be under the circumstances. Unable to resist, I lifted her chin and kissed her softly, slowly, my body screaming against the restraint we’d been forced to for the past week.
My breath rushed out of me, but I broke the kiss and looked down at her proudly. “I know you can do this, and I am proud to serve with you,” I whispered. “Now, let’s go.”
48. The Stonebridge Inn
~ BREN ~
A sign hung over the pavement outside the building announcingThe Stonebridge Inn,with a quaint painting of the bridge under the words. Donavyn pushed the door open, its six small panels foggy, the thick glass twisting the view of the room beyond. It creaked as it opened directly into the dining room.
The wide, low-ceilinged room would be hot in summer, but wonderfully cozy in the cold months due to the massive fireplace on the western wall, currently standing guard over embers that barely glowed.
Thick, wooden tables with benches and chairs lay in tidy rows, offering enough seating for fifty or more men Donavyn’s size. There were four casks behind the bar at the back of the room, and the serving top gleamed in the dim light of the single lantern hung near the door. Apart from the ash of the fire, the room smelled clean.
A young boy, probably twelve or thirteen years old, sat on a stool under the lantern, his head lolling in sleep. He snapped awake when the door creaked, blinked twice at the commanding sight of Donavyn Arsen standing over him, then leaped to his feet.
