Who was that cloaked woman? Was she in charge? The captain seemed to defer to her in the stable...

What are they after? Falan wondered. And why the secrecy?

He dropped the hand from his jaw as the woman with the regal bearing, the younger woman in toe—A servant maybe?—stepped back in. The younger woman glanced at him. The one in charge did not so much as look in his direction. They made their way to the second floor. He could not imagine the older woman sleeping in a hay loft. He chuckled softly to himself as he lifted his mug for another slosh of ale.

“That one seems to take an interest,” Serin said, nodding to the stairs. It was a jab. The cloaked woman could not make a better show of ignoring him.

“I think,” Falan said, cutting off for another drink of ale. “I think we have just found ourselves work.”

Serin cocked an eyebrow. “Doubtful.”

Falan grinned wryly. “Why?”

“Ah, yes, you were occupied by that giant’s fists earlier. Forgive me, but I played witness to how that woman looked at you.”

“She was watching me?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “Glowering is a better word.”

“It does not matter,” Falan said. “I caught a bit of their conversation as I entered the stables.”

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Serin sat up straighter. “Go on.”

“Apparently they are traveling with the captain of some guard.”

Serin frowned.

“It seems they are traveling north, but in secrecy for some reason.”

Serin nodded thoughtfully as he went on.

“There were near twenty five men with them. Most of them looked like bodyguards, but I think they are the captain’s men-at-arms.”

Serin shrugged. “Then they have no need of us.”

“Normally I would agree with you, old friend, but the maiden—“

The other man broke in. “Her name is Leisa.”

“You spoke to her?”

“We exchanged a few words, though I was mostly preoccupied with making wagers at the time.”

“What did she say?”

“We exchanged a few idle words,” Serin said, “nothing more. She seemed somewhat guarded, I thought, which if they are traveling in secret, makes sense.”

“Yes, and I overheard the—Leisa—say something about us being the ‘kind of men they need.’”

Serin pursed his lips. “Falan we are headed south for a reason.”

Falan made a face. “Yes, yes,” he said with a dismissive hand. “But whatever they are up to, they are not going to throw us in some vanguard—they are after something, and they do not want it to be known. There could be a lot of coin in it.”

Serin stopped peering into his mug and raised his head. “That woman... She could be highborn, or connected to the highborn in some way. Perhaps there is coin to be had in this, but is it worth the risk?”

Falan smiled. “These southlanders know nothing of what happens in the north.” At least that is what he thought. What he hoped.

“They are traveling north,” Serin said flatly as if to say they could indeed know, or at least, find out who and what they were.

Ignoring the other man’s insinuation Falan said, “Which is why they need a good pair of northern swords to guide them.”

“I suppose,” Serin said. “But we should not let it out that we are Nelothan.”

“Agreed,” Falan said, faking a Solen accent quite well. “We need to keep an eye on them.”

Serin nodded, and the two men smiled as their pewter mugs clashed, ale sloshing over the rims of their cups.