Барб Хенди - Dog in the Dark

“By all means,” one said. “Please see Mechaela at the front desk.”

Leesil hesitated again, and then Chap huffed and started for the front door.

Én’nish had trouble controlling herself as she silently slipped along rooftops to follow her quarry. The sight of Léshil and the traitor was almost too much for her.

She took note of their number: five in total, with Magiere, Leanâlhâm, and the majay-hì. Neither Osha nor the little human sage appeared to have caught up. This was useful and preferred: the fewer, the better. The necessary targets were present, and Brot’ân’duivé was the only anmaglâhk.

Én’nish kept well behind, fearing that the greimasg’äh might sense her, but she did not let them out of her sight. Not far into the city, they approached a three-story building with worn sky blue planking and soiled white shutters. Én’nish hesitated at the sight of iron grates across all of the windows.

The guards out front mattered little compared to those. The place was large and extravagant ... and fortified.

Her team had chosen a tiny hole of an inn where they might vanish. Yet this place would not be so easily invaded, and likely not in stealth. She waited as the quintet stopped, all gazing upward. Finally the majay-hì took the lead toward the door.

Én’nish lingered until they entered and then fled through the night on her way to report to Fréthfâre.

As he passed between the two guards, Chap was somewhat hesitant, wondering what kind of place Wynn had sent them to. But Leesil moved out ahead, opened the door to Delilah’s, and pulled Wayfarer inside.

Upon stepping through the doorway, Chap found himself standing on a huge deep brown oval rug with a border pattern of white flowers. The foyer walls were a rich shade of cream, and dark amber curtains framed the grated windows from the polished wood floor to the high ceiling. Soft tones of a skillfully played flute floated from somewhere unseen, and the air smelled lightly of sandalwood.

“Oh ... oh, no!” Magiere whispered, jabbing Leesil in the back. “Do you know how much this is going to cost?”

Leesil frowned as Wayfarer glanced up at Magiere in confusion.

Chap glanced left at a solid walnut counter with gold inlay. Behind it, a young man in a white linen shirt and black satin vestment looked expectantly their way. Chap heard Wayfarer whispering to Leesil.

“He looks like ... like ...”

The young man had the look of Wynn, with an oval face of olive-toned skin and light brown eyes and hair to match.

“May I help you?” he asked. “I am Mechaela. What do you seek this evening?”

The question was oddly phrased. What would travelers seek here but lodging? Two men dressed similarly to Mechaela passed by into a wide parlor on the right. Neither was armed, and Chap stepped forward to peer after them.

Low, plushy padded couches around small tables bearing glass or crystal vases with fresh flowers filled the room. On the walls were painted seascapes of detailed clarity, and he spotted another archway opening into another room at the chamber’s far side.

Therein, four well-dressed men sat playing cards at a polished black table, while a tall, lovely woman circled them and poured wine. Her gown of layered gauze was ... a bit too revealing.

What kind of place was this?

“We would like two rooms,” Brot’an said, striding to the counter.

“Of course,” Mechaela answered, picking up a quill and opening a very large black book.

Chap was more aware of their financial situation than Leesil or Magiere realized. They had coin, but they also had to make it last. A few nights here would take a sizable stack.

After scribbling whatever names Brot’an gave, Mechaela looked all of them over.

“You will need to relinquish your weapons while inside the establishment,” he said politely. “You can retrieve and return them upon coming and going.”

Magiere stared at him. “I don’t think—”

“That is acceptable,” Brot’an cut in, and he pulled a small pouch out of his shirt.

Chap had never seen this before. So, the old assassin carried some coins. How he had acquired such was better left alone.

“I’m not turning over my sword,” Magiere stated flatly.

Though he hated it, Chap was in agreement with Brot’an, and he looked up at Magiere.

—Guards—at the door— ... —Guards—inside—and—grates—on all—windows— ... —Wynn—sent us—here—with—good reason—

Magiere made no move to hand over her falchion. “I want to talk to the owner, this ... Delilah,” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, but madam is not available,” Mechaela answered. “I assure you, the rule is without exception. I also assure you that first and foremost of all services to our guests is their safety.” He paused briefly and became firmer. “You are safe here. Now ... please?”

The young man held out his hand. It was directed toward Magiere’s falchion, and he did not retract it at her hesitation.

“Oh, just give it up already,” Leesil muttered, but, strangely, he locked eyes with Brot’an, not Magiere.

Chap neither liked the house rule nor Leesil’s duplicity. Certainly the old assassin’s own weapons were well out of sight—unless the host called the guards to search him.

Leesil broke the standoff and unstrapped his blades to drop them on the countertop. When he turned back, Magiere followed suit—but with obvious resentment. Leesil joined Wayfarer, who was now staring off into the parlor.

Mechaela cleared his throat audibly, and Magiere halted. Her unnaturally pale face darkened, but she finally reached behind her back, beneath her cloak, for a weapon the young man must have spotted. Magiere pulled out the white metal battle dagger, sheath and all, at her back and slapped it down on the counter.

Chap looked back over his shoulder and ...

With Wayfarer hanging on Leesil’s arm, they both gazed through the parlor into the room beyond it. Chap peeked around the girl’s legs as he heard Mechaela say, “Very good. I will show you to quiet rooms on the upper eastern floor.”

In the parlor, the woman gowned in gauze stood beside one gentleman and rested her hand on his shoulder. As the man dropped two more gold coins on the table and added to a startling amount already wagered, the woman glanced aside and noticed those watching her.

She smiled softly and winked at them before turning her attention back to the game.

Chap went cold inside.

Worse still, though Wayfarer straightened in bafflement and looked up at Leesil, all he did, still watching, was raise an eyebrow in response. Whether that wink had been for Leesil or Wayfarer—or both—Chap hoped that ...

A vicious exhale sent a chill down his spine to his tail.

“It’s ... it’s a domvolyné !” Magiere snarled right behind him.

Wayfarer flinched and looked back at her as Chap was trying to think of a way to head off what was coming.

“What?” Leesil exclaimed, still looking through the parlor. “No ... Wynn would never—”

Magiere’s hand smacked the back of his head.

As Leesil spun, he nearly jerked Wayfarer off her feet. “Hey! What was that for?”

Chap grabbed the girl’s other wrist in his jaws and tried to pull her toward the stairs, where their host waited and watched. At least he could get the girl out of the way and thereby perhaps draw Magiere off.

Wayfarer clung to Leesil’s arm in confusion and looked between him and Magiere.

“Majay-hì ... Chap—stop!” she said. “What is ... dom ... domvol ... ?”

Even for the girl’s good grasp of Belaskian, it was an old and obscure term.