By the look of him, Rellen suspected Tavyn wasn’t joking about being a philanderer and that he was very good at it. He wore a leather jerkin and pants of indigo, cut close and clean, with high, loose leather gloves of the same color. He looked young, but there was a confidence and wariness in his eyes that belied a hard-earned street sense. Rellen noted the leather grips of his weapons were well worn from frequent use.

  Tavyn’s companion was a heavily muscular woman, almost as tall as Rellen and obviously a warrior. He knew her well. She was a zokurios who could harm or heal quite effectively. She wore burgundy, brown, and tan leather that precisely followed her form. A silver saber with an intricately carved hilt and pommel stuck out of a burgundy scabbard at her hip. She had close-cropped hair of deep red, and her emerald green eyes glittered when she recognized Rellen, although she said nothing as they stepped up to the table.

  “I’m glad to see you’re up and about,” Tavyn said, “Who’s your friend?” He gave Rellen a cursory once-over.

  “This is Rellen… another bounty hunter,” Mygal replied. “He came to help me track down Dancer.” His eyes shifted to the woman, and he gave her an appreciative look. “And who are you?”

  “Miranda Torai,” Rellen said, staring into her eyes. She gave him just the hint of a smile and nodded her head to Mygal. Mygal and Tavyn turned surprised faces to Rellen. “We served in the military together a while back. It’s good to see you, old friend.”

  “It’s good to be seen,” she replied. Her voice was low, inherently sultry, but that was a fact he knew she’d mostly resented throughout her adult life.

  “I am wondering how the two of you ended up here together,” Rellen said, glancing at Tavyn and back again.

  “The duke regent put out the word that Miranda needed to be connected with Mygal here, so I went looking and found what I was after… as usual.”

  Rellen rose out of his chair and stepped over to Miranda. They wrapped each other in a great bear-hug, slapping each other on the backs a few times. “I missed you,” she whispered in his ear.

  “The feeling is mutual,” Rellen said as they moved apart. Of all the people in the world, he trusted her as much as he trusted his brother. He caught Mygal and Tavyn staring at him with wide eyes and suggestive expressions upon their faces.

  “It’s not what you think,” Rellen said to Mygal. “We served together… saved each other’s lives more than once.” She nodded. “I always felt safe when she had my back. That’s why I asked Corwyk to find her. Knowing what I know now, I’m glad I did.”

  He scratched his eyebrow, cheek, and chin with different fingers. It was a sign language they’d both learned as military scouts, much like the Crysvardish he’d used with Corwyk. The military version was much more succinct, used only to convey critical messages covertly. The message said, Explain later.

  She replied with an almost imperceptible nod.

  Rellen looked around the room. “Come, we have business to discuss.”

  He stood up, wincing with muscle aches, and grabbed his plate. He urged Xilly to climb up onto his shoulder.

  “Hey, Drumore,” Rellen called out to the innkeeper.

  “Aye?”

  “Is it alright if we take a couple of these chairs up to the room?”

  “Aye!” he replied. “Just bring ’em back down when yer done.”

  Rellen nodded his thanks.

  “Mygal, Tavyn, would you grab those chairs?”

  “Sure,” Mygal said, standing up.

  The four of them quickly made their way upstairs, with Rellen continuing to shovel food into his mouth as they did.

  Once they were in the room, they all sat around the small table in front of the fireplace and settled in, with Rellen groaning as he sat down.

  “Busy night?” Miranda asked. “You look beat.”

  “You have no idea.” He stretched out his shoulders. “Miranda, are you interested in helping out an old friend?”

  “You know you don’t need to ask,” she replied. “That was always the deal.”

  Xilly crawled down Rellen’s arm and took a few steps toward Miranda. She stretched her neck out, sniffing lightly, and immediately made a soft thrumming sound.

  “I think Xilly likes you,” Rellen said, a surprised look on his face. “She normally doesn’t take to people this quickly.”

  “Hello, Xilly,” Miranda said, holding out her hand. “I see you have excellent taste.”

  The little dragonette gave Miranda’s knuckles a sniff and a lick, then gave a sharp cooing sound.

  “So, Tavyn,” Rellen said, shifting his focus, “you should know straightaway that I’m a cautious sort. I like to let people know where I stand up front. I know her.” He nodded to Miranda. “I know him.” He pointed a thumb at Mygal. “And I know her.” He stroked Xilly. “I trust them.” He locked eyes with the informant. “I don’t know you.” He wanted to come on strong to watch Tavyn’s reaction.

  “I can tell you,” Mygal chimed in, looking at Rellen, “it was Corwyk who recommended him to me, and he did put us on the right trail.”

  “There’s no reason you should trust me,” Tavyn said easily staring straight at Rellen. Even that told Rellen something about the man. “You just met me, and to be honest, considering the sequence of events and how it ended,” he glanced at Mygal, “you have even less reason to trust me than if you knew nothing about me.”

  “Oh?” Rellen said, feigning surprise.

  “Come, now,” Tavyn said, raising an eyebrow. “We both know you’re not surprised. If you were, you never would have survived this long. I appreciate honesty as much as you do. It’s so hard to find in my line of work.” He leaned back in his chair, looking a bit more comfortable. “By now, Mygal will have told you that two days after meeting me, and just hours after I aimed him at Dancer, he ended up bleeding and unconscious in an alley.” He gave Rellen an expectant smile. “I wouldn’t trust me either. Only a fool would.”

  Rellen never took his eyes off Tavyn as he picked up a piece of bacon and popped it in his mouth. He chewed, eyeing Tavyn thoughtfully. “Fair enough,” he said evenly.

  “For what it’s worth,” Tavyn continued, “I’m no threat to you or your pursuit of Dancer. I’m assuming you’re still after him, yes? I’ve heard nothing on the streets about his apprehension or demise—not that I necessarily would have, especially if he’s dived into a Vuoda hole.”

  Rellen placed the mug back on the table. “We are.” He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Tavyn’s reply. On one hand, it was the perfect response. On the other, Rellen had to wonder if Tavyn’s answer was too perfect. Rellen suspected much, but Tavyn was probably the shortest path to Dancer. He’d have to play along for now and see what happened.

  “I can tell you, Rellen,” Miranda chimed in, “I’ve seen Tavyn around. I’ve never worked with him, but as far as I know, he’s always played fair, or at least as fair as you can in this business.”

  “That’s good to know,” Rellen said, turning to her. She gave him a faint, reassuring nod. He returned his gaze to Tavyn. “And it works in your favor.”

  “Tavyn,” Mygal said, “you helped track Dancer down before. We’d like you to do it again, and as discreetly as possible.”

  “What I’m hearing is, you want him now more than ever.” Tavyn got an almost larcenous look in his eyes.

  Rellen had seen that look on the faces of more informants than he wanted to think about. The response actually made him feel better. In that moment, he had at least a slightly better idea of who and what he was dealing with.

  “That’s right,” he said. “But don’t get greedy.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it,” Tavyn said with an easy smile, “but I do believe I may be able to help you.” He leaned forward with a very down-to-business look on his face. “I’ve brokered information for the duke more than once over the past few years, and he was never disappointed. I can do the same for you, but as Mygal knows, I don’t work for free.”

  “That goes without saying,” Rellen replied.

  “Good.” Tavyn leaned back in his chair once again, a comfortable look on his face, as if he felt like he was in the coachman’s seat. Rellen wanted him to feel that way. Comfort often breeds mistakes. “There isn’t much I miss in Svennival. It’s how I’ve earned my living since I was fifteen, and business has been pretty good. You need at least a little reassurance. To show that I’m on your side, and as a sign of good faith, I think you should track down the murdered daughter’s boyfriend.”

  Tavyn doesn’t know we figured that part out, Rellen thought. In that moment, he grew at least a bit more certain Tavyn hadn’t been involved in either Mygal’s attack or the murders. That didn’t mean he wasn’t involved in any plots of sedition though.

  “Why should we do that?” Rellen asked, testing him.

  Tavyn smiled. “The first one is free, but not the second.”

  “I suppose that’s how the world turns,” Rellen said, letting out a patient breath. “But your generosity isn’t worth anything.”

  “Oh?” Tavyn asked.

  “Dancer was the daughter’s boyfriend.”

  Tavyn looked disappointed.

  “We also know Dancer was born Ulient Sylvemar, so you don’t get to sell that one either,” Rellen said. He eyed Tavyn. “You should know that we’ve uncovered a great deal in the past day and a half, so let’s cut to the chase. What would a couple of direct answers to a couple of direct questions cost me?”

  “Generally, ten sepiks apiece,” Tavyn smiled and then leaned forward once again. “But I have a better idea. If you’re after killers in Svennival, then you could end up having to go all over the city, chasing down gods-know-who. Hire me on for fifteen sepiks a day, plus two sepiks for every useful introduction I make or lead I provide along the way.” He raised his eyebrows, encouragingly. “I think you’ll find it money well spent. Bonuses are always appreciated, by the way.”

  “Hire you?” Rellen asked, a bit dubious, although part of him thought the idea had merit. “I’ll be honest, I’m torn between cutting you loose as soon as possible or keeping a close eye on you until this is over.” He narrowed his eyes. “We still don’t know if you’re involved in all this, although I’m leaning away from that. You know we’re looking, which gives you information to sell to the person or people we’re looking for.” Rellen leaned in a little closer. “You haven’t done that already, have you?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I had,” Tavyn replied easily. “Nobody’s asked me about you nor whoever might be hunting the killers, and I haven’t gone looking to sell. I figured I’d be able to shake you down for a few more sepiks, considering Dancer is still at large.” He gave Rellen a confident smile. “And let’s be honest, bounty hunters generally have deeper pockets than the people they go after. You’re the better bet.”

  “Fair enough,” Rellen replied. “You should know that this may take a while.”

  “The longer the better. I get paid no matter what, and there are more dangerous places to be than in the company of three such as you.”

  Rellen nodded. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted Tavyn close at hand. And the truth was, even with Miranda, Tavyn’s knowledge of the underworld in Svennival would be an asset.

  “If you take the King’s Credit,” he said, “you have yourself a deal.”

  “King’s Credit?” Tavyn replied, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t look like a king’s man to me. You do, however, look like a bounty hunter.”

  “Thank you,” Rellen replied. “Looks can be deceiving, and can’t a man be both? Regardless, do we have a deal? Before you answer, you need to know that if you agree, the dance changes. The stakes go up, and the consequences for betrayal become more than severe.” Rellen made the warning as ironclad as he could.

  Tavyn’s eyes narrowed, and he took on a wary posture. “Alright…” he said slowly. “If you can prove you’re a king’s man. I generally don’t run tabs. Coin only. And the consequences for betrayal in my business are always severe.”

  “I figured as much,” Rellen replied, “but I’m about to trust you with something that not many are aware of.” Mygal gave him a curious look. “There’s something else,” Rellen said. “And if you back out now, you’ll be in a jailer’s cell before the end of the day.”

  “Hold on,” Tavyn said, holding up his hands. “I’m not about to commit to something without knowing what it is.”

  “Then let me sweeten the pot. I’ll pay you a dakkari a day, not fifteen sepiks, and for every week in this particular harness, you’ll get an additional five dakkaris. You’ll work for me until we track down those who murdered the duke’s family or I release you. Not sooner.”

  Tavyn looked stunned. “You certainly know how to negotiate.” He cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. “I’m still not comfortable making a bargain when I don’t know all the risks and commitments.”

  “You’ll understand shortly, if you agree. I can assure you that there’s no risk to you whatsoever unless you sell us out. In fact, if this works out, it’s likely there will be more such work in the future, not only with me, but with my associates.” Rellen smiled. “This would be the one secret you would always have to keep. It would be profitable for you to do so, and lethal if you didn’t.” He locked eyes with Tavyn. “What’s it going to be?”

  He watched Tavyn’s conflict—the doubt, the greed, and even the fear. Rellen was confident the young man would cave in, and if it went south, the consequences for Rellen were minimal. Svennival was not part of his regular patrol route, so it would be unlikely to affect him in the future.

  “Alright,” Tavyn finally said. “I agree, but I’m trusting you.” He gave Mygal a sidelong glance.

  “Good,” Rellen replied. “What’s your full name—and I mean your given name.”

  “Tavyn Daggerayne.”

  Rellen turned and opened one of the saddlebags sitting on the floor beside him. He took out a small roll of parchment and a fine-pointed stick of charcoal. Unrolling the parchment, he tapped into his majea and channeled a small portion of it as he drew three very specific sigils at the top of the parchment. The first was his personal sigil, known to the king and the other Guardians. The second was a binding rune that would hold the magic in place. The third was a second binding rune that would connect Tavyn to the spell Rellen was about to cast. Then he wrote out the following contract, directing more majea into the script:

  Tavyn Daggerayne is hereby conscripted into temporary service under a Guardian of Pelinon. He shall earn one dakkari a day plus two per meaningful introduction or lead during the investigation into the murder of Baron Vladysh Belvenim and his family. So long as he is conscripted, at the end of each week, he shall earn an additional five dakkaris. He may collect in part or full at any time, upon termination of this contract, or the event of my death, whichever comes first, and from any King’s Assayer’s Office.

  As he wrote, he felt Mygal stiffen beside him. Guardians were generally disinclined to reveal who they were without good cause. Rellen turned the parchment around so Tavyn could read it, and then he summoned his majea once again, focusing on the tattoo on his shoulder.

  “A Guardian,” Tavyn said, his eyes going wide. “I had no idea…” There was a wary sense of awe in his voice.

  Rellen’s eyes flicked to Miranda. She hadn’t known what he’d become after he’d abdicated the throne. To her credit, her face was immobile, but he caught a glint of… was that satisfaction in her eyes? Happiness? He could tell she had taken some delight in the discovery. It was an exceptionally short list of people who hadn’t condemned Rellen for his decision. Miranda was at the top of it.

  “That’s right,” Rellen said, returning his gaze to Tavyn.

  “But how do I know you’re really a Guardian? I won’t be able to collect until after at least the first day has passed, and I don’t plan on helping you until I’m satisfied.”

  “I’m about to show you,” Rellen said. “If you know about the Guardians, then a man in your position probably knows about their avatars.” He eyed Tavyn. “I’m trusting you now, and if you betray that trust, I’ll kill you outright.” There was a deadly sincerity in his voice. “Now shut up. I need to concentrate.”

  Tavyn’s mouth snapped closed.

  Rellen closed his eyes and whispered the incantation, holding out his left hand. Within moments, a crow stood in his hand, blinking at him.

  Rellen placed the bird on his shoulder and stared at Tavyn, an expectant look on his face. “Believe me now?” he said.

  “I’ve heard of the Guardians’ Avatars,” Tavyn said. “I never thought I’d see one.” He eyed Rellen. “I’ll want to hit the assayer’s office tomorrow, just to be sure, but as far as I’m concerned, we’ve got a bargain.”

  “I expected no less,” Rellen replied. “Let’s bind the agreement, then, shall we?”

  Tavyn nodded once, pushed the parchment to the center of the table, and held out his hand. Such contracts were common in Pelinon and considered both personally binding and enforceable by magistrates.

  Rellen drew the slim spell-dagger once again from within his bracer, its silver blade and heavily inscribed runes glinting. He gripped Tavyn’s hand and pricked the index finger. He allowed three droplets of blood to fall upon the bottom of the parchment, and then he released Tavyn’s hand.

  “Roll up your sleeve and lay your arm on the table.”

  Tavyn did.

  Rellen then held his own index finger over the parchment and pricked it. Three droplets of blood fell, landing just below Tavyn’s.

  Sliding the dagger back into his bracer, Rellen focused his majea upon the parchment and uttered a long incantation that included his name, Tavyn’s, and King Saren III.

  He released the magic into the parchment. Red filaments of light swirled up from the droplets of blood in tiny twisters that spun with increasing speed. Rellen formed his mind around the swirls of crimson and willed them onto Tavyn’s arm. They darted out, and as they touched flesh, they swirled and danced in a very specific pattern. Moments later, a tattoo appeared on Tavyn’s arm.