"You're leaving already?" the normally jovial barkeep asked with a frown.
Bren nodded, placing the key to their room in Salud's hand. "Sadly, yes."
Kieran looked over his shoulder, scanning the empty tavern as if he expected the guard to burst through the doors. The pair had fallen asleep after their talk and Salud and his wife had let them rest until nearly noon, much to the assassin's annoyance. "We already wasted too much time," he muttered under his breath.
"But thank you for everything," the half-elf said quickly, ignoring his companion's grumpy remark. "We owe you a great debt."
"I'm not sure why you're in a such a rush to leave," the barkeep remarked, "but wouldn't it be dangerous to travel in your condition? You're welcome to stay here until you're healed. Any friend of Whisper's is a friend of mine."
"Thanks," Bren laughed awkwardly, "but we've really got to get going. Gotta hurry to Brosa while the weather's still nice."
Salud stepped forward, grabbing the skinny thief in a massive bear hug. "You just take care of yourself, you hear?"
He released the half-elf and stepped towards Kieran, his arms wide to grab the reluctant assassin in a hug. Kieran stepped back quickly, offering his hand to the innkeeper instead.
"And tell your wife 'thanks for breakfast!'" Bren yelled over his shoulder as the grumpy assassin dragged him outside.
It was sunny and bright, the light hurting the assassin's eyes. Although the tavern would be closed for another hour or so the roads were not, horses and people hurrying past on their way to or from wherever. The smell of fish wafted down the street from the market near the docks, and even the air itself seemed to taste of salt.
"We probably should have waited to say goodbye to his wife," Bren complained as they walked, but Kieran scoffed.
"She could be gone for hours," he explained, "and we need to leave before they search for Whisper’s killers."
Bren stretched his aching muscles. "You're so paranoid. Didn't you tell me the guards here couldn't care less about us?"
The assassin stopped dead in his tracks, holding out his arm to stop the young thief from taking another step ahead of him. Not even a block away from the pair, separated from the by nothing more than a few passerbys, were three guards wearing Northern uniforms. One of the guards wore a hat and spoke to a thin, dark-skinned man, showing him a worn sheet of paper.
Kieran grabbed the confused half-elf's elbow and dragged him backwards, walking briskly away from the guards. "Some guards cannot be bought off," he warned.
Bren's eyes widened as he looked over his shoulder. The thin man pointed and the guards began moving, headed for the inn the man had indicated.
"Kieran, they're coming this way," he warned, but the assassin was already ushering him back inside Salud's tavern.
"I'm sorry, we're closed for another hour yet," the innkeep began, but his eyes lit up excitedly to see Bren again. "Oh! Did you change your mind?"
"Not exactly..." the young thief began as Kieran locked the door behind him.
Kieran drew one of his spare daggers, offering the hilt to the half-elf. "Just in case."
The portly bartender stopped wiping down tables and looked the duo up and down. "What's going on?"
The assassin put his hand on Salud's shoulder, his other hand casually flipping his prized dagger. "We have a bit of a situation, and we need your discretion."
"Wha-"
"There's going to be Northern guards knocking on that door any second," Kieran continued, pointing with his dagger towards the wooden door. "and they'll have questions for you about us."
"Guards?" Salud looked confused at the half-elf for an explanation, but Bren was busy looking around for places to hide.
"You are going to tell them we left this morning for Hammerfjord." The murderer's grip on the innkeeper's shoulder tightened, digging into him like a bird's talon. "We got what we came here for."
A knock on the door made the poor barkeep jump, and he looked to the assassin pleadingly. "What did you do?"
But Kieran had nothing to say. Weapon in hand, he moved to join the already hidden half-elf tucked under the counter of the bar.
Another knock on the door came just as the assassin painfully curled himself under the counter, hoping the guards would buy Salud's lie. He hated having to rely on another person for this kind of thing, but having to fight their way through highly-trained guards while he was so badly hurt would not be smart. The criminals' best chance at survival was to throw the guards off their trail; Kieran knew that.
Still, he kept his dagger gripped tightly in his hand.
Someone tried jiggling the door handle and then knocked again. "Hello? It's the Northern Guard. Open up!"
"One moment!" Salud shouted back, trying to calm his shaking hands. With a brief glance back to the counter his unlikely friends were crouched behind, he wiped his hands on his apron and forced a smile onto his face as he opened the door a crack. "Can I help you?"
"Sorry to bother you, sir," the guard with the hat said politely, "but we heard someone of interest might be staying here."
The innkeeper opened the door fully, allowing the uniformed - and heavily armed, Kieran noted as he peered around the edge of the counter - men to enter. "You're welcome to look around," Salud told the guard with the hat, "but the inn is quiet this time of day. Most people are off finding work at the docks."
The guards spread out, surveying the seemingly empty room. Kieran ducked back out of sight, putting a finger to his lips to warn the half-elf of their approach.
The hatted guard shoved a piece of paper towards the flustered innkeep. "Do you recognise either of these men?"
Salud narrowed his eyes and looked at the sketches on the makeshift wanted poster closely. The pictures were slightly disproportionate - the half-elf didn't have such angular features, and the assassin's beard had grown out - but it was unmistakable.
"Yes," he admitted, putting his hands in his pockets to quell their shaking. "They were staying here."
"Where are they?" The guard took on an aggressive stance, and the other two guards stopped their moseying about and watched the exchange intently.
Salud put his hands up in surrender. "I said they were. They left a short while ago."
The impatient guard glared at the portly innkeeper, one hand wrapped around the mace at his belt. "Where were they headed?"
The portly man resisted the urge to glance at their hiding spot, knowing that doing so would reveal their whereabouts. "How am I supposed to know? I'm just an innkeeper. Am I expected to keep tabs on every person who stays here?"
"I thought you might know something, considering their meeting with a close personal friend of yours."
Kieran's grip tightened around his dagger's hilt and he peered around the corner of the counter to watch the exchange. He did not like where this conversation was heading. Behind him, Bren shifted and put his hand on Kieran's shoulder as if to stop him from leaping out and revealing himself.
Salud shook his head. "Their business is with Whisper, not with me."
The hatted guard looked at him as if the barkeep had grown another head. "You don't know what they did, do you?"
Kieran moved, intending on jumping out and confronting the threat, but the half-elf's hand gripped him, digging in his fingers and preventing him from moving. "Wait," the thief whispered.
"It's really not my business-" Salud began.
"They killed him," the guard stated, crossing his arms casually. "They killed Whisper."
The innkeeper felt his stomach sink. "Wha-What?" His mouth felt dry all of a sudden and he found himself choking on words past a sudden lump in his throat. "He's..."
"Dead."
Salud stumbled back as if he'd been hit by the guard's heavy mace, falling back against a table and leaning on it for support. He stuttered, trying to ask why, but his lip was shaking too much.
"We have a witness that puts them at the scene," the guard continued as the other two guard moved to flank him, apparently done with their casual search. The hatted guard moved forward, following the distraught man and moving close to his face. "I'm going to assume you think they should face justice, so I'm going to ask again," he pressed. "Do you know where his murderers’ are headed?"
The hidden assassin tried to shrug the half-elf's bony fingers off him, but Bren held on tight. "Have faith," the thief whispered, and Kieran begrudgingly obliged.
Salud shook his head quickly. "I didn't ask."
The guard leaned in closer, his face inches away from the pressured innkeeper. "Helping them is a major crime," he threatened. "Are you just going to let them get away with what they've done?"
"They... They were..." Salud stammered, leaning away from the guard's smiling visage and wiping the sweat from his brow.
Every muscle in Kieran's body felt taut like a loaded spring waiting to pounce. his hand was starting to hurt from being clenched around the hilt so tightly, but he was too focused on the exchange to let go.
“North,” the barkeep breathed. “They were headed North, to Hammerfjord.”
Kieran allowed his muscles to relax slightly, but the guards all looked at each other in disbelief.
“North?” one of the guards questioned, “Why are they headed there?”
Salud shrugged as the hatted guard turned away. “He said he got what he came here for.”
“Which one?” The hatted guard asked.
“Kieran.”
The two flanking guards looked at each other excitedly as the one with the hat shoved the paper with the criminal’s image into the fat innkeeper’s face. “You know their names?”
“Of course-”
This one?” the guard asked, pointing to the assassin’s poorly drawn visage.
Cautiously, Salud nodded. “That’s Kieran.”
“Kieran…?”
Salud swallowed hard, but the hatted guard pressed. “If you don’t tell us, it’ll be obstruction of justice.” he threatened, narrowing his eyes.
“That’s some pretty big jail time,” another one chimed in.
Salud wiped the sweat from his brow with the dirty cloth he forgot he was still holding. He couldn’t help but glance over to the counter where the assassin and thief crouched.
It took all of Kieran’s willpower not to punch the counter behind him in fury and reveal his position. His entire body felt hot. Bren touched his shoulder again but he shrugged it off, running a shaking hand through his hair. Salud had moved out of sight, so the assassin leaned his back against the counter, examining his dagger’s edge closely.
The guard who had stayed silent noticed the innkeeper’s not-so-subtle glance and stepped out to investigate what had caught Salud’s attention.
“Walsh, I think!” Salud blurted out, his sudden exclamation stopping the guard in his tracks. “And the half-elf is named Brennan. Not sure about his family name.”
“Kieran... Walsh…” the second guard repeated, committing the name to memory.
Salud jumped a little as the hatted guard patted him on the back. “You’ve done well, thank you. We’ll do our best to bring these lowlifes to justice.”
Salud smiled weakly. “Just doing what I can.” His shoulder drooped as if crushed under the weight of his guilt.
“We need to contact the Captain right away,” the quiet guard finally spoke up. “We might be able to track them now that we have a name.”
“If you remember anything else,” the hatted guard shouted to the innkeeper as they left, “I expect you’ll report it?”
Salud nodded and waved weakly, his throat too dry to find words.
No sooner than the door slammed shut behind the guards, Kieran was on his feet. He dashed towards the barkeep with fire in his eyes.
"Salud!" Bren warned as he ran after him, and the portly man threw up his hands in defence.
The assassin flipped his dagger along his arm, punching out and slamming the pommel into Salud's solarplexius. He followed through the attack before the poor innkeeper could even react, delivering a painful uppercut solidly onto Salud's chin. The barkeep reeled back, crashing into a chair and falling to the ground.
"Kieran, stop it!" the half-elf pleaded, grabbing at his companion's cloak to try and stop him.
“You betrayed us!” Kieran accused, pointing his dagger at the wheezing man.
Bren skirted around him, rushing to the fallen man’s aid. “He didn’t betray us,” he argued as he helped the breathless man into a chair.
“You gave him our names,” Kieran snapped. “You sentenced us to death!”
“We’re lucky they didn’t have them before, honestly,” the thief tried to reason. “but it wasn’t Salud’s fault!”
“Is it true?” the barkeep spoke up, finally catching his breath. “Did you really kill Whisper?”
“In self-defense,” the assassin snapped back, narrowing his eyes. “You’re next.”
“Whoa, hang on!” Bren jumped in front of the assassin, ready to push him away from the vulnerable tavern master. “We don’t need to kill everyone.”
“He betrayed us,” Kieran stated. “He has to die.”
Salud whimpered, and the half-elf shuddered when he realized how serious the murderer was.
“Look,” Bren tried to reason, pushing back the approaching assailant as if trying to ward off death itself, “we don’t need to kill everybody who betrayed us. The whole world is our enemy, right? Isn’t that what you told me?”
Kieran stopped, eyeing the younger man critically.
“There’s only one person we need to kill,” Bren continued, nodding his head, “and if we waste time here we’ll never make it.”
The assassin let out a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, trying anything he could to calm the adrenaline. He looked at the fat man cowering behind a table, whimpering like a whipped dog, and the sight of him disgusted the assassin.
He flipped his dagger over in his hand again and again, weighing his options. He wanted to kill this snivelling idiot so badly, to cut him into a thousand pieces and throw his body into the water for some poor fisherman to find in his net. But he couldn’t deny the half-elf’s logic. It wasn’t worth throwing away a chance at avenging his old life for one satisfying kill.
“Fine,” he said finally, “but if you tell them anything else, I will hunt you down.”
“I won’t, I swear!”
Satisfied, Kieran resheathed his dagger and walked to the door.
Bren let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you for everything,” he said, trying to catch up to the assassin, “and tell your wife ‘thanks’ too!”
Kieran ushered the half-elf outside and slammed the door shut behind them, glaring at the half-elf.
“What’s your problem? He did give us a room and food, not to mention they stitched you up.”
Kieran shook his head and rolled his eyes, walking away.
“A single bad thing isn’t enough to wash away all the good someone did before,” Bren explained, walking backwards in front of him.
Kieran’s shoulders slumped and his eyes seemed to stare right through the thief. “Yes, it is.”
Hearing the almost lamenting tone in the assassin’s voice, Bren dropped the issue and fell back into place behind Kieran once more. He focused his attention instead on trying to find where the guards had gone, scanning the streets in search of the characteristic hat. The sun was blinding his sensitive eyes, however, making it difficult to see.
“So,” he dared ask after a few moments of walking in unbearable silence, “how are we going to get to Brosa?”
But the assassin seemed lost in his own world, far removed from the half-elf and the busy, stinking city they were trapped in.
ns 15.158.61.48da2
