The crowd cheered as soon as they saw the heroes, but they parted when Kreya and the others stalked forward. Kreya didn’t know what kind of expression was on her face, but she didn’t question it. Nor did she stop the crowd from trailing after them.
“Is an audience wise?” Marso asked nervously.
“The more people who see us go, the more who will know if we don’t return,” Jentt said, low enough that the crowd couldn’t hear.
Amurra was close enough to hear. “Is that truly a fear?”
“You can still stay behind,” Stran said. “It’s not too late.”
Kreya didn’t hear Amurra’s response, but she noticed that Amurra was still with them when they stepped onto the white stones and rode up toward the guild master’s palace, and was proud of the diminutive woman, who may have been even braver than her massive husband. She then focused back on what was ahead of her. Kreya hated not knowing what to expect. At least when they’d gone to battle, they’d known who the enemy was and what he wanted. Here, they still knew who the enemy was. But after that... it was up in the air.
When they reached the guild master’s residence, a crowd had already assembled: bone masters in embroidered coats that marked them as members of the guild’s ruling council, additional non-council bone workers in masters’ coats who must have gotten special permission to access the fifth tier, several members of the city’s parliament, and the grand masters of a few other prominent guilds—she recognized the mantle of the grand master of trade, the grand master of agriculture, and the grand master of artisans.
She shivered as she surveyed the assembly. This was a gathering of a lot of important people. If Eklor somehow managed to get his army within Cerre, the devastation it would cause just from the perspective of leadership would be incalculable—a power vacuum that could only mean chaos. She wished she’d been able to finish her little scouts faster. They could have been searching all this time and been able to give them advance warning.
“Be ready to supply us,” she whispered to Zera.
“I’m always ready,” Zera whispered back.
“You think this is it?” Stran asked.
“It could be. The conditions seem right if I were setting up an ambush.”
To Amurra, he said, “You should have stayed where you’d be safe.”
“Kreya already said there’s no place truly safe,” she said. “And I’d rather be with you.”
“There’s safer.”
Kreya shot them a glare. “Stop arguing, and be alert.”
The luminaries whispered to one another as the five heroes arrived. Even among such exalted company, the five were impressive. The men and women parted for them, and Kreya led her group toward the vast brass doors.
“I hate this,” Jentt muttered.
Kreya reached out and took his hand, as much to assure him as to bolster herself.
Zera stepped up beside them. “So, do we knock?”
Before Kreya could decide on an answer, the doors swung open. She tensed, ready for soldiers to spill out, but instead Grand Master Lorn emerged from the shadows with a hooded man beside him. Kreya knew instantly it was Eklor, though his face was hidden, but what she hadn’t expected was that Lorn carried a small body, wrapped in linens.
Wordlessly, his face stiff, Lorn carried the body past the five heroes. The crowd shifted, also silent, and Kreya saw that up a small set of stairs was a pyre built on a marble pedestal.
She felt Zera’s hand grip her wrist. Jentt already squeezed her other hand.
All of them had guessed who the small body was: Lorn’s son.
Lorn laid the body gently on the pyre, as if laying him downto sleep in his own bed. Tenderly, he unwrapped the linens. Amurra gave a soft gasp-sob. Others behind them whispered. From the bits she gleaned, a few had guessed they’d been summoned to a funeral.
The tension leached out of the crowd, replaced by sympathy. Everyone respected Grand Master Lorn. Even if they didn’t agree with all his policies, even if they didn’t know him personally, they all respected the office, and all Vosians mourned the loss of a child.
But Kreya did not relax. Nor, from the grips of Zera and Jentt, did her friends. She watched Eklor. His head was bowed, hidden within the shadows of his hood, and his hands were clasped piously in front of him. The crowd hadn’t yet guessed who he was. He stood a respectful distance behind Lorn as the grand master bent over his son’s body and kissed his forehead.Any second now,she thought,he could signal his army. This funeral could turn into a massacre without any warning at all. It was a brilliant plan: promising to save Lorn’s son would get him a front-row seat to a funeral guaranteed to be witnessed by dozens of Eklor’s prime targets. Given the solemnity of the event, none of the attendees would be prepared to defend themselves. He could slaughter the leadership of the city, as well as decimate the ranks of the Bone Workers Guild, before anyone properly understood what was happening.
“Who will confirm my son’s death?” Grand Master Lorn’s voice was soft, but still it carried, sweeping across the crowd that had gathered.
The grand master of the trade guild, one of the most influential guilds in Vos, climbed the steps to the pyre. “I will confirm.” She bent over the body; touched his forehead, neck, and wrist; and then stepped back.
Second, the grand master of agriculture presented himself. “I will confirm.” He completed the ritual and then returned to the crowd.
