I took a swallow of my tea for courage. “Gort, you are not supposed to be here.”
He glanced at me. “Where am I supposed to be?”
“Getting ready to march on Falcon Point.”
Gort’s mouth dropped. He caught himself, but it was too late. I had finally managed to shock Gort Magnar.
Shana pivoted to her husband. “Falcon Point?”
Her voice was soft and mild. Across the table, the two brothers went perfectly still.
Gort reached out and patted Shana’s fingers with his huge hand. “A small fort in the north Middle Fields. Quick job, easy money.”
Shana turned to her sons. “Did you know about this?”
They shook their heads.
“I didn’t tell them,” Gort said gently. “I didn’t tell anyone. I hadn’t even signed yet. We were just talking.”
Shana took a long, slow breath. “Who is the recruiter?”
“Filderon,” Gort said. “You remember him. We worked with him before.”
“You promised me that you were done.”
Gort cleared his throat. “We needed the coin.”
Shana didn’t say anything.
“It was going to be the last one,” Gort said.
“That’s what you said the last time. And the time before that.”
“This time, it would be,” I said.
The table went quiet.
Shana met my eyes, and suddenly I had the urge to back up with my hands in the air.
“What will happen at Falcon Point?” she asked.
I drank a bit more of my tea. My throat had gone dry. “Filderon is recruiting people for a short campaign to settle a land dispute between two nobles. He is offering generous rates with a third of the money up front on signing.”
“Strange,” Will said. “Last time getting money out of him was like pulling teeth.”
“What’s with this sudden generosity?” Lute said.
“It was last-minute, and the client who hired him was desperate,” Gort said.
“Filderon is lying,” I told them. “The client who hired him doesn’t want any of this to come back to them, which is why Filderon is requiring everyone to bring their own gear. The company can’t look like an organized fighting force. They must resemble bandits.”
The more I talked, the scarier Shana looked.
“The company will leave for Falcon Point in two days. Gort will suspect that something is off when Filderon refuses to fly any banners. By that point it will be too late. On paper, Falcon Point is owned by a minor noble. In reality, that minor noble is Dreantia Yolenta.”
Gort stopped patting his wife’s hand. Lute swallowed. Will’s face turned grim.
Dreantia was the head of the Yolenta Family. It was her barrel sitting on the tarp.
