After a moment’s pause, the boy remembered his urgency and upped his pace again. He went up one narrow lane after another, across a horse-yard, and down a zig-zag slope of alleyways. The crowds were thinner here, though at one point he got tangled up with some fire worshippers performing a ceremony outside their brightly painted temple. He couldn’t get around and had to go by a different way. But, eventually, he slowed to a stop just beside the corner of a great crumbling brick building that stood across the road from their inn. He could see the entrance of the Crowning Glory. He was about to hurry across the road, when a small nagging thought stopped him.
The inn-keep was standing outside, scowling and wringing his hands. The thin man paced back and forth. He looked genuinely distraught.
It looked as if there might be a few shadowy figures standing about the inn too, but the boy’s eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the glare of its brightly lit windows. He looked up and down. No one else was on the street. Notably, when a young couple with a child appeared at one end of the road, they seemed to see something that the boy couldn’t, stopped, turned and went back the way they’d come.
What was going on?
He was answered, a moment later when a small crowd of soldiers spilled out of the inn and started milling about outside. They were laughing and joking. More than one lit a pipe to suck on. The innkeep went over to them. He started arguing in a harsh, sibilant language that the boy didn’t know. They didn’t seem to like that at all. One of the soldiers raised a mailed hand and gave the innkeep a heavy swipe across his face. The man fell backwards and hit the ground with a hard scuff of noise. He was dazed, but managed to get to his feet, then with one last angry look, he slunk away and vanished from view.
Something was definitely wrong. Why was the innkeep angry with the soldiers?
It did occur to the boy, that it was a rather nice inn. Not the sort of place a fight would be welcome.
Or the arresting of guests.
He should have come back sooner.
He peered closer. His eyes were now getting used to the back-light coming from the inn’s bottle-glass windows. Up on the timber landing, just to the side of the doorway, stood three more men. They weren’t dressed like ordinary soldiers. They wore flowing leathers that were painted in chalky black and white. They had leather masks too, with holes like skull-eyes cut into them. On the street, where the shadows were thickest and almost out of sight, lurked two archers. Or so the boy guessed they must be. They were dressed in light armour–made mostly out of stitched, painted hides, and they had great steel warbows in their hands. But how they could spy an enemy, the boy couldn’t guess: their eyes were sewn shut with thickly cross-hatched threads of thick scarlet. Just looking at them gave the boy a shiver deep in his gut. He couldn’t articulate the sensation, but he knew immediately that he did not want those archers to turn his way. He did not want them to ‘look’ at him. There was a deep wrongness to them. Blind though they must be, he was sure they could see.
As he watched, a jowly faced stranger with lank hair and a belly came ambling out of the inn. He talked to the soldiers, then accepted and pocketed a full purse. Then full of obsequiousness, he backed away whilst prattling a lot of ‘Thank you, thank you,’ and ‘Your lordships’ and ‘For the glory of Our Queen in Elder Night’.
They’d been found out.
One of the guests must have been a spy.
But where was Caewen? Where as Dapplegrim and Fleat? They wouldn’t have surrendered without a fight, yet they were nowhere to be seen. One of the soldiers wandered up the stairs and nonchalantly strolled back into the inn. He was clearly without any thought of caution.
The boy didn’t want to imagine what might have already happened. What might be about to happen.
He backed away from the corner and pushed his shoulders hard into the crumbling brickwork, shutting his eyes tight, as if somehow that might protect him from the men with the stitched-up eyes. Opening one eye to check, he looked across the alleyway he was standing in. If he could make it across the gap, there were barrels and empty crates on the other side to hide behind. Then, he might be able to quietly move down the road, get across to the other side, and double back to the inn. This was his vague plan, at least. So, not wanting to wait a moment longer, he gritted his teeth and dashed. Though he made only a slight noise, it was enough to stir the guards. Several looked his way. The archers stepped into the light, and turned their heads as if they were searching the street.