Wade forced himself to keep moving.

The window opened, and the irritating head of The Baron appeared. ‘Nearly there,’ he said cheerfully.

As well he might be cheerful, since he isn’t the one about to break his neck.

A bit farther across, and The Baron was able to put a steadying arm on Wade. Once more, he hauled him to safety.

Wade wriggled through the open window and found himself in a dark room. He sensed the walls around him, telling him the room was small.

That was all he was interested in for the time being. With his feet on solid ground, he sat on the floor, while his breath steadied and his fingers went from feeling like they’d been ripped from their sockets to feeling like they’d been crushed by a hammer. A warhammer. Wielded by an ogre.

He tried clenching his left hand, but he couldn’t make a fist.

As he recovered, he took in the details of the room. It was dominated by a desk. It was solid, carved wood. Expensive. There were items on it. His thief’s curiosity pushed the pain to the background and he got to his feet to examine them.

‘Salvador Blair’s study,’ The Baron suggested.

Wade didn’t much care whose study it was. The desktop held parchment, books, writing tools, and other small items that would quite easily fit into one’s pockets. He picked up a leatherbound book. Such things were rare, especially in Gal’azu, and it would fetch a good price.

‘I’m not sure we should be stealing from the Blairs,’ The Baron commented. ‘It would raise their suspicions about a break-in.’

Wade sighed, silently annoyed that The Baron was right. He returned the book.

‘Perhaps there will be some other items of worth you can take without arousing suspicion,’ The Baron said.

‘That’s a patronising sentiment,’ Wade said. ‘You’re a thief as well, aren’t ya? Don’t act like you’re above pilfering.’

The Baron said nothing, somehow maintaining an air of moral superiority.

‘Come on,’ said Wade, ready for the job to be over. ‘Let’s find this girl.’

‘The rooms belonging to The Golden Blades are mostly on the floor below.’

‘Then lead the way.’

They left Salvador’s study. The corridor outside was only dimly lit, lanterns shedding enough light for the night watch to make their rounds. The Baron went ahead, strolling along like he was meant to be there. Wade followed, more furtively—keeping to the shadows.

The Baron reached the stairs without incident. But once there he began to loudly greet someone coming up.

Wade immediately pressed himself against the wall of the corridor. He could hear two other voices talking with The Baron. Damn it. If they come this way, I cannae evade them. He looked back down the corridor to a door he had passed. But he had no idea what might be inside. The Baron was now drawing out a long and loud farewell. I’ve no choice.

Wade flitted across to the door. He slowly turned the handle to avoid making a noise. The Baron was still speaking, but the conversation was one sided now. His stalling for time had come to an end.

The door didn’t open.

Shit. Locked.

Wade was quick to get one of the keys Mila had stolen into the lock. It didn’t work. He tried a second. A welcome click, and he was able to push the door slightly ajar. He peered into the crack he’d made. It was dark inside. He could see shelving. A store room, perhaps? That was better than a bedroom.

Footsteps. He opened the door wider and snuck inside, taking care when closing it. Turning, he found himself in an armoury. Racks and shelves of weapons, armour, and ammunition—wall to wall, and floor to ceiling.

It was only at the very last moment, with his foot hovering over a straw mat in the centre of the room, that he pulled his leg away. His thief’s instincts had kicked in just in time, while his mind slowly caught up. Unfortunately, the movement had left him unbalanced. He tried to fall softly. In doing so, he twisted the ankle of his standing leg.

Wade lay still on the floor of the armoury, listening out for the arrival of the two guards, while his ankle throbbed. He heard them approaching the door. He put a hand to the hilt of his dagger. The truth was, he was in a rather compromised position to defend himself.

The gods must have been looking out for him, because he heard them walk past the room.

Wade returned his attention to the room he had hidden in. Why place a mat on the floor of an armoury? He got to his knees to inspect it. It wasn’t attached to anything. But he caught an unpleasant whiff in his nostrils.

With care, he pulled the mat aside. Sure enough, it was covering a three foot deep hole in the middle of the floor. A nasty looking spike sat at the bottom. It had been coated in excrement, or some similarly unpleasant substance. Anyone landing on it would not only receive a horrendous injury, but a probably fatal infection.

The Golden Blades had gone to some effort to protect their weapons store, and with good reason. It was a treasure trove. Wade didn’t have free rein to grab what he wished. But some of the smaller items quickly found their way into his pockets.

He replaced the mat as he had found it, retreated to the door, and put an ear to it. The corridor was quiet. Beyond, he heard the faint sound of someone whistling cheerfully.

Wade exited the room, looking along the corridor both ways. Empty. He locked the door behind him, and followed the sound of whistling all the way to the stairs. The Baron stopped his noise, gave him a brief nod, and descended.

Wade followed at a safe distance, arriving on the third floor of the mansion, and another long corridor.

Apparently, Clara Foberoy was likely to be in one of the many rooms. Probably asleep. But they had no idea which one. Logic suggested most were empty, since the Blades were apparently all in the islands to the south, fighting pirates. But Wade was experienced enough to know missions like this rarely went to plan.

The Baron went to the far end of the corridor, and knocked on the door of the first room.

Wade turned the handle of the nearest door at his end of the corridor. Unlike the armoury, it was unlocked. He crept in, scanning the room as he did. Four beds had been crammed into the small space. None of them were occupied, and the room was bare. The mercs based here had left.

Wade quickly exited back into the corridor. The Baron had disappeared. Wade waited, in case something had gone wrong. His associate reappeared from the first room and gave him a thumbs down. He proceeded to knock on the next door.

Wade entered his second room, only to find a similar situation to the first. He returned to the corridor to find The Baron standing in the doorway of a room in conversation with its occupant. The brief hope that it was their target died when he heard a man’s voice. But the conversation sounded friendly enough, and he had little doubt The Baron would charm his way through it.

Meanwhile, it gave Wade some cover to continue his own search. The third room immediately felt different. It smelled of incense, and his senses told him it was occupied.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

There were two beds. One was empty. The other wasn’t. Its occupant faced him. Fortunately she was asleep. Long blonde hair splayed out on her pillow.

Wade exited the room in silence. His thumbs up encouraged The Baron to extricate himself from his conversation and join him.

‘I think it’s her. She’s asleep,’ Wade whispered.

‘Let me do the talking.’

Wade’s initial instinct was to take offence at the suggestion. On further reflection, he had to admit that was the better option. The Baron was disguised as a guard, and his amulet would convince her she knew him. And, for some reason, most women didn’t take to Wade on first introduction. It usually took several meetings for them to warm to his personality. Being woken in bed by an intruder probably wouldn’t have put her in the right frame of mind.

Wade nodded his acceptance and re-entered the bedroom. He knew he wasn’t the most sensitive of men. But he was aware there was something very wrong about the pair of them sneaking into a sleeping woman’s bedroom. He had to content himself with the thought that it was all for her own good.

The Baron fixed a friendly smile to his face as he woke the girl. This was slightly undermined by the hand clamped over her mouth.

Her eyes went wide and she began to struggle.

‘Shh. Don’t make a noise. It’s Clara, right? Nod if it’s you, Clara.’

She nodded, close to panic.

‘It’s alright. We’re friends. We’re here to protect you. But we can’t have you making a noise. If you do, my friend here will have to knock you unconscious. Nod if you understand.’

She nodded.

‘I’m sorry we had to burst into your room like this. I’m going to take my hand from your mouth now. But remember, we need you to be quiet.’

The Baron took his hand away. The girl didn’t scream. He backed away. She still didn’t make a sound. Wade studied her. Based on Stiff’s description of Raimy Molleker, the rake who had taken her here, he expected her to be ravishingly beautiful. She was rather plain. But she smelled nice, and had the advantages of money and time to maximise her looks.

She met his eyes and he looked away, a little ashamed.

‘We’ve been sent by your father to take you home, Clara,’ The Baron explained.

Understanding dawned on her face, and she relaxed. No doubt she had feared the worst at first. She sat up in the bed, self consciously pulling her blankets to her.

‘He doesn’t want you here any more. No doubt you already know this. He wants you back in Avolo. Obviously, it would make our lives a lot easier if you were to agree to come with us.’

The girl seemed to think about it. ‘It is rather boring here,’ she said at last.

Boredom wasn’t the emotion Wade had been expecting. But he’d take it.

‘I am known as The Baron,’ said The Baron. ‘And this is—’

‘Hey! You’re allowed to hide your identity,’ Wade hissed at him, ‘but it’s alright to go telling everyone my name?’

‘You know my name,’ Clara reminded him.

Wade made a sour face. But she was right. ‘Alright. You can call me Wade.’

‘Raimy said he would write to me every day when he was gone,’ Clara said. ‘But I haven’t got a single letter.’

Wade fought hard to stop his eyes from rolling.

‘That’s a rotten shame,’ said The Baron.

‘And there’s barely anyone else here I’m friends with.’

‘So you think you'll come back with us?’ The Baron asked.

Clara seemed to give it some more thought before making her mind up. ‘Alright. But on one condition. Bletcher has to come with us.’

Relief flooded Wade, quickly followed by suspicion. ‘Bletcher?’ Maybe it’s her pet dog.

‘He’s in the cell. Down in the cellar. I can’t leave him there.’

Wade shot The Baron a desperate look.

‘Oh dear. I’m sorry, Clara,’ The Baron said. ‘But it would be just too difficult to rescue this Bletcher chap as well. It’s really quite difficult and dangerous to get you out as it is. But I promise we’ll tell your father and our boss about Bletcher. I’m sure they’ll do their best to negotiate his release and bring him back to Avolo.’

Clara eyed them with a shrewd look. All of a sudden, she looked every inch a merchant’s daughter. ‘How about this? If you don’t go down with me to the cellar right now, I will scream bloody murder, and bring every guard and resident of the palace down on you so fast you won’t know what hit you.’

They took Clara down to the cellar.

As before, Wade followed some way behind The Baron and the girl. Being the middle of the night, there wasn’t much traffic to negotiate on the way down. The only interaction was with another couple of guards who were patrolling the ground floor of the mansion. Clara told them she was going to see Bletcher. They acted as if such a midnight visit was the most natural thing in the world, which struck Wade as rather odd.

The Blairs’ cellar was mostly full of wine. But they also had a small cell down there, made from iron bars. It was the kind of detail that made Wade compare working for the Apples with working for the Blades; and for all Stiff’s imperfections, he decided he was better off with his current outfit.

The cell had only one occupant. He was a one-armed man who stood facing them, as if expecting their arrival. His clothes were dishevelled, he stank, and he was plastered in dried mud. Pale blue eyes stared out from amongst the facial hair and dirt. Wade suspected that beneath the hair and grime was a relatively young man.

‘Bletcher,’ Clara said. ‘These men have been sent by my father to rescue me and take me back to Avolo.’

‘Rescue you? Child, don’t you see? Go with them, and you will be less free than me. And I’m locked in a cell.’

‘I insisted they take you with us.’

Suddenly, Bletcher threw his head back. ‘The gods speak to me,’ he gasped.

‘Oh,’ Wade said. ‘He’s one of those.’

Clara gave him a salty look. ‘The gods communicate with Bletcher via his arm,’ she insisted.

Wade was about to ask her which one, when she pointed at the missing one. ‘Can’t you see?’

Wade could indeed see that the arm was missing. What he couldn’t see was how that might prove the man could talk to supernatural beings. But in his experience there was little to gain in arguing with believers over such things at the best of times. And surely, this was not the best of times.

‘The gods say they want you to release me from this cell and go with you to Avolo,’ Bletcher declared.

What a fricking surprise.

Wade gave The Baron a baleful glare. ‘Do you have the slightest doubt that we’re going to regret this?’

The Baron shrugged.

‘Please,’ Clara said, adding some cajoling to her earlier threat.

With a deep sigh, Wade retrieved his set of keys once more and placed the first in the lock of the cell door. As soon as he heard the click, a sharp pain in his forearm caused him to gasp. A small needle had spiked him, causing a point of damage.

He turned to The Baron with a resentful glare as his eyes filled with tears. ‘That hurts.’

‘The cell door is trapped,’ Bletcher informed him.

The Baron ran over to the guards stationed at the front entrance of the mansion. ‘Bletcher has escaped from his cell! Come and help me track him down!’

‘We’re not meant to leave our post,’ one of them reminded him.

‘What do you think Rylan will do if he hears we let him escape?’

To a man, the guards followed The Baron in the direction of the cellar.

‘Remind me never to meet this Rylan bastard,’ Wade muttered under his breath. With the coast clear, he led Clara and Bletcher through the main gates, then into the city.

He was peculiarly short of breath, and his heart began to hammer in his chest. He shed another hit point.

He was even more pleased to find Femke and the others waiting for them than he ordinarily would have been. She gasped and put a hand to her nose as she caught Bletcher’s stink. ‘Who’s this?’

‘Bletcher. And this is Clara Foberoy.’

‘Welcome, Miss Foberoy,’ Femke said. ‘We have a boat waiting to take you to Avolo.’

‘First,’ Wade said. His legs decided to give out, and he landed on his bahootie. ‘I think I’ve been poisoned.’

Femke and Mila fetched their medical kits and crouched down next to him. Femke retrieved a medium sized ceramic jar. ‘Step one with poison,’ she told Mila. ‘Get them to drink this.’

‘Step one is prayer,’ Bletcher contradicted her. ‘It is for the gods to decide whether he will live or die.’

‘Since he was poisoned while freeing you,’ Clara said with a fretful expression, ‘will the gods not look kindly on him?’

Wade appreciated that at least someone was showing a modicum of concern. He took the offered concoction from Femke and downed it.

‘The gods are a mystery,’ Bletcher droned on, seemingly in no hurry to actually say a prayer. ‘They follow paths not comprehensible to mortals. Even I, a traveller amongst the stars, touched by the divine, cannot see what their plans are for this man.’ He looked Wade up and down. ‘But he’ll probably be fine.’

MISSION COMPLETE

SUCCESS: Clara Foberoy was retrieved

Some of your mercs improved their stats:

Wade:

Intellect +1

The Baron:

Intellect +1

Auntie:

Skill with bows: competent

Mila:

New skill: Medic

No mercs levelled up