The entire Order of the Redeemer consisted of people who had done something so screwed up that they were willing to risk their lives to atone for it. They were capable of terrible things, and for some of them it didn’t take much to cross that threshold a second time. Their leader was a ruthless, stone-cold killer. Hreban waved the banner, but Silveren carried the sword.
“You think Silveren was Derog’s southern buyer?”
Reynald nodded. “My son has the gift of farseeing. Any knightage would want him.”
He wasn’t wrong. In the 1970s, both the CIA and the USSR became obsessed with psychics and actively recruited people who claimed to be capable of remote viewing—perceiving distant objects and locations in real time with their minds. Matheo was the real thing. He didn’t see the past or the future, he saw the present, and his visions were brief but clear. It made him the perfect scout. He could catch glimpses of the enemy commander’s map in their tent from miles away or spy on a conversation that happened in a secure room in another end of the city. The Redeemers would hold on to him with every tooth and claw.
“The Redeemers are desperate for talented recruits,” Reynald continued. “I think Silveren approached Derog and paid him to steal Matheo. Then Derog sent my son, escorted by a couple of his less valuable lowlifes, to a prearranged spot, where the Redeemer Knights ambushed them, killed the witnesses, and ‘rescued’ Matheo. If any questions arise, the only thing the Redeemer Knights are guilty of is saving a child from some slavers.”
“If you’re right, Silveren must view Matheo as a double-edged sword. Matheo claims that he lost his memory, but there is no way to verify that. For all Silveren knows, Matheo remembers everything. If he is allowed to escape the Redeemer Tower and this matter is investigated, he might link Derog and Silveren, and Silveren wouldn’t want that.”
Reynald’s face was grim. “Yes. We must be certain that we can pry him free. If we show our hand too soon, Silveren might kill Matheo rather than let him go. I don’t want my son to suddenly suffer a fatal fall from a horse or have a ‘regrettable training accident.’”
He fell silent. We sat quietly for a while.
The books didn’t do Reynald justice. He wasn’t a stunningly handsome man like Solentine or the guy in the Garden, but there was something about him, something compelling and forceful that dragged your attention to him. If you put him in a room full of men, I’d instantly zero in on him, and I wouldn’t be the only one.
Right now, he sat completely relaxed. He was in a house he had taken away from a gang of slavers, with eleven corpses in the basement, in the middle of a very dangerous city, in the company of a woman who had mysteriously come back from the dead, and absolutely none of it bothered him.
He hadn’t looked like this back in the basement. He’d looked like a demon, and he had kept cutting grown men down like it was their first day with a sword.
Reynald could turn on me at any second, and the demon would return and cut me down. But right now, it didn’t feel like he would, so instead of being scared, I felt . . . safe. Probably for the first time since I crawled out of that muddy ditch. It was almost addicting.
Reynald stirred. “I owe you protection for your meeting.”
And had I known we would get a fortress of a house at the end of this adventure, I wouldn’t have gone to the Shears in the first place. But then I wouldn’t have contacted Reynald or saved the kids either.
“Thank you. I will need it.”
“What are you planning to do with the children?” he asked.
I picked up Lasa’s latest ledger and tossed it to him.
“The three younger girls were ‘quietly obtained,’ meaning kidnapped from the neighboring villages and towns. The locations of the ‘breeders’ are listed. We can take them home and their parents will be overjoyed to get them back.”
Reynald would be overjoyed to get his son back. I wished so badly there was something I could do to spring Matheo out of the Tower.
“I will help you with this,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“What about the other two?”
“Kaiden has nowhere to go.” I flipped through the right ledger and passed it to him.
“One puppy, twelve weeks, local breeder, breeders no longer available, sold by the trainer, requires a course in obedience.” Reynald frowned.
“A twelve-year-old orphan from Kair Toren sold by whoever he was apprenticed to.”
Reynald’s gaze darkened.
“My plan is to keep him with me until I figure out something better,” I said.
He would be a handful, but he was my handful now. I was responsible for him. I wouldn’t toss him out in the street or pawn him off on someone else.
“What about Clover?”
I sighed. “It’s on the next page.”
