‘I won’t be long, Betty.’

Edmund’s wife sat cross legged on the bed in their cramped room above the inn. She frowned at him, her usual cheery disposition gone. ‘What does this Stiff want of you exactly?’

‘I’m not sure. It sounded like a small job. Stand behind him with a hand on my sword hilt. That kind of thing. I’ll be back before long.’

She caught him in her piercing blue eyes. ‘And I don’t suppose he’s paying you?’

‘No. But we’ll get work soon. He said he has plenty of missions coming, for both of us. It’ll be just like old times. Won’t be long before we get enough money to ditch this place and get one of our own. A fresh start.’

She said nothing to that.

Edmund left, worrying he had said the wrong thing.

He found his new employer waiting for him in The Rose.

‘Ah. Manslayer,’ Stiff said. ‘Thanks for coming. Edmund, this is Ashlyn.’

Edmund nodded at the girl. ‘We arrived on the same ship?’

‘Yes.’ She held out a hand, very formal for someone of her age.

They shook, and Edmund sensed a melancholy in her. It was a shame for someone so young.

‘I have a meeting with One-Eyed Boris, a merchant in the city,’ Stiff explained. ‘A meeting of reconciliation, you might call it. It’s been organised by Rosalind De Cheney, a—’ He seemed unsure how to describe Ms De Cheney. ‘A mutual acquaintance. Of course, I hope it all goes well. But there is a slim chance that it disintegrates into violence, so you two are my insurance.’ The old man patted a sword at his belt, a similar length to Ashlyn’s. ‘Not that I can’t take care of myself, you understand.’

‘Three swords are infinitely better than one,’ Edmund offered.

‘Quite. I had thought your wife might come along, Edmund?’

‘When we spoke about it, you asked me to come.’

‘Ah. No doubt you’re right. No offence intended on my part. I’ll have a proper mission coming up for you both in a couple of days. You too, Ashlyn.’

The girl nodded solemnly, and Stiff led them out into the city.

Edmund had noted The Sailor’s Knot when he had arrived in Avolo. It was a rough joint, but Stiff said it was considered neutral ground and therefore an appropriate place for a meeting of reconciliation.

The table had been prepared for the meeting. There was an empty chair waiting for Stiff. Opposite it sat a tall, older gentleman, wearing an eye patch. In between, sat a striking, raven haired woman of middle years. Both had their goons standing behind them.

Stiff took his seat, while Edmund and Ashlyn took up position behind it. They were eyed up by the other heavies, but Edmund refused to make eye contact. Just as well Betty didn’t come for this, Edmund decided. I’ve become a hired thug. He wondered if he had made a huge mistake in coming to Gal’azu.

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‘Let’s get to it,’ said Rosalind. ‘There has been a certain amount of bad blood between us. Between you two, in particular. But it’s in none of our interests to let that continue. It’s not in the interests of the city. Working together, we can amount to something. We are safer from those who would like to control every business venture in Gal’azu.’

‘Agreed,’ Stiff said. ‘I should go first.’ He looked up at Boris. ‘I admit, I betrayed your trust when I took back that reliquary from your men, after you had been nothing but welcoming. I was desperate for the coin, and desperate men make bad decisions.’ He put a hand into his coat pocket.

Everyone around the table reacted, and hands went to weapons.

Stiff pulled out a purse. ‘Here’s the money I made from that job.’ He passed it along the table to Boris. ‘I hope it goes some way to making amends.’

The tension at the table noticeably eased. Edmund was impressed. It took a big man to apologise like that in front of so many.

Boris took a peek into the purse, then pocketed it away. ‘I appreciate that, and the way in which you said it. For my part, I could have spoken to you about it, instead of escalating the dispute with that business at Frantic Jack’s.’ He turned to address De Cheney. ‘And I apologise for using you, Rosalind. You have proven to be a good friend to me, and to the city. I don’t see why the three of us can’t work together in the future, to our collective benefit.’

Hands were shaken, and all parties left the inn satisfied.

Edmund was encouraged. He had witnessed a different side to Gal’azu, one that suggested some cause for optimism. ‘Who was Rosalind referring to,’ he asked Stiff, as they returned to The Rose, ‘about controlling everything here?’

Stiff grimaced. ‘The Golden Blades. Everything truly profitable, they have their hands on. Hence I have been grubbing about for small scale work. Until now. Things are opening up out west, where the Blades have no presence. If you two can come back to The Rose tonight, I will tell you all about your first mission.’

***

Having patched things up with Boris without anyone getting stabbed, Lothar felt able to turn his full attention to the future. He could sense things were changing. Dare I even think it? I am building some momentum, at last.

He examined his mission board:

SELECT MISSION

PROTECT FROM BRIGANDS, £2

LOCATE WARG DEN, 4 shillings

STEAL GOLD AND SILVER PLATE, 4 shillings

RECOVER WEAPONS, 8 shillings

The recovery mission involved returning the very weapons he had stolen to Frantic Jack, and Lothar resolved not to get involved in such shenanigans any longer. The stealing mission was the same low level affair he had done before, and he had little interest in it. Locating a warg den sounded more than a little dangerous for four shillings payment.

No, Lothar only had eyes for the protection mission. Of course, there was the money. It was about as much as all his previous missions put together. But he was also keen to deploy his new recruits on something substantial. Seeing off brigands was the kind of job that would spread his reputation far and wide.

He invited his team to The Rose, and talked them through as much as he knew, trusting them to deal with the details when they reached their destination.

Stricken was definitely out of the picture now. Wilson and he had apparently come close to hacking at each other. He’d received a few comments about Wilson’s own attempts at providing leadership. He hoped that Manslayer might provide them with a bit more direction.

When that was done, he met Wade for a private chat. The Durnishman was still limping from the last mission.

‘Things are looking good out in the wilds,’ he told the thief. ‘That’s where most of my attention is going to be from now on.’

‘I see,’ Wade said, sounding disappointed.

‘No. This could be good for you, Wade. I need someone to run the city based missions for me—keep things ticking over. I’ll split profits with you fifty-fifty. You can recruit The Baron; Mags and Murder; and Mila, as you see fit.’

‘Alright, aye. I thot you were getting rid of me for a wee minute. I can do that. I appreciate it, Stiff.’

‘Good. I don’t want any heat, do you understand? Anything that would bring unwanted attention, leave it. Err on the side of caution—don’t try to do everything yourself.’

‘I’ve got you, pal. Nice and smooth. You won’t hear about a single problem. Just a trickle of coins coming your way.’

‘That’s music to my ears, Wade.’