They moved through Baght Town in a single file, under black cloaks, surcoats inside-out. They showed no sign nor sigil. They went without a word spoken. As the men neared the inn, the boy felt increasingly nervous. It wasn’t long until he felt that there might as well have been rancid water boiling in his stomach. They crept up the dark alley. Most of the soldiers stopped out of sight, but the boy went forward, along with the thegn and master-at-arms. Soon they stood together near the corner of crumbling bricks. He was able to point towards the rear of the inn and say, “Just around there. That’s where the stables are. That’s where the soldiers are keeping Cae–” He closed his mouth, then said, “…the assassins.”
The thegn turned a cool glance on him. Deep tones, dark and black and magenta flashed in his irises. He said, “What do you think, Lieutenant?”
The thin man peered around, searching the deep night’s shadows. He said, gruff, “Eyeless archers. But just the two of them? Good and ill, then.” The men with the stitched-up eyes still stood guard. A couple of the other soldiers stood nearer the door, talking quietly. There were fewer than earlier.
The boy managed to say, “There were more soldiers earlier. There were only two of the eyeless ones–but there were more men with spears and swords. Five or six standing outside? They might have gone in, I guess? And there are more soldiers in the barn. Another ten maybe?”
“Hmmm,” thrummed the lieutenant in a whispered, thoughtful drawl.
“Eyeless archers,” repeated the Thegn. “And the man in pied leathers is a war-charmer. A spellsword.” Only one of the masked black-and-white soldiers was visible.
“There were more of them earlier,” cut in the boy. “The masked ones.”
“How many?”
“I didn’t count exactly. Six? Maybe seven?”
“Eyeless men and spellswords?” said the lieutenant, shaking his head. “That’s ill for us. Young Athairdrost must be taking the threat of these southerners very seriously.”
“Evidently,” said Moliagul.
Throughout the conversation, the boy grew more afraid that the eyeless men would suddenly turn their faces towards the dark patch where the three of them lurked. But they continued to stand deathly still, facing blankly out onto the street. The thegn and his man seemed to be satisfied enough to pull back and talk to their troops. As soon as they were away from the building’s corner the boy whispered, “What are they? The men with no eyes?”
The thegn looked at him askance then, and said, “Such a knowledgeable lad hasn’t heard of Eyeless Archers?”
The boy shook his head. He experienced a lurch of feeling that he perhaps had just let too much of his ignorance slip out. The thegn’s gaze was intent.
“Well,” said the man, after a time. “They’re archers with no eyes, obviously.” A sniff. “They’re a secret order. Initiates go through a ritual, and have their eyes taken out and stitched up. In return they gain a sorcerous sight. I don’t know the details. No one outside the order does.” Moliagul frowned. “Not many a fellow would willingly do such a thing. A person would have to be desperate… or mad… or, I suppose fanatical. Either way, the Eyeless never miss a mark. They can see invisible things, and the unseen spirits of the earth and air.” His voice grew quieter. “So, maybe that does make it worthwhile?” He smiled then. It was a weak, pale sort of smile. Not so much absent of hope as filled with sad hope only. “For my part I’d rather have my own eyes so that I can one day set my sight on the beauty of the Vells in flower again. Or the stars spread like silk aglow in the sky. Or the blue-green glow-worms along the grassy embankments of my house. For my part, at least.”