“Stow it, Barclei,” Rogen Tallnose ordered, or tried.
“Stow it yourself, Tallnose,” the other man retorted, lifting his chin. “Your brother may be one of us, but you’re not, and I don’t take orders from you. Leftenant.”
Rexei struggled to keep her shock off her face. This man had zero fear of a leftenant of the militia? Or at least so little that he felt he could be rude to the man’s face? That was unheard-of, in her experience. Next to the priesthood, the militia was the second-biggest source of authority and power in the kingdom. Even the Consulates, which represented all the guilds, treaded lightly around their local Precinct officers. This man didn’t, and that astounded her. The only thing she allowed herself to do was blink; the rest of her face, she kept carefully straight and blank.
“Stow it anyway, and get my brother up here,” Tallnose ordered. “There are things going on that you are not authorized to know about, but I am. So get him up here. Now.”
Barclei eyed Rogen a long moment, then shifted to a small box set in the wall above the edge of the table. Pressing a toggle, he spoke, “Barclei to central, Leftenant Tallnose wishes to see his brother at the control house gate. He has a . . . guest . . . with him.”
Releasing the toggle, he straightened. The mesh grille crackled and a tinny voice spoke. “Central to control house gate, who is the guest?”
At a lift of the guard’s brows, Tallnose gestured at her. “Journeyman Rexei Longshanks. He’s already authorized for the outer levels.”
Barclei passed that along, though he eyed Rexei as he did so. A few moments passed, then a reply came back. “He’s on his way.”
The longer they waited, the warmer Rexei felt. Even the leftenant started feeling it, for he unbuckled the belt of his riding coat, unfastened the buttons, and pushed the edges aside. Eventually, he removed his helmet, once again revealing flattened, reddish brown curls with the faint start of a receding hairline. His hair reminded Rexei of her father, though her father’s hair had been as dark brown as her own. She turned away to hide her reaction, masking the movement by unbuttoning her own coat now that she, too, was finally feeling blessedly warm.
Footsteps made her turn back. A figure bounded up the steps of the second spiral stairway. He had a cap on his head and a scarf wrapped around his throat and chin, though his shirt and trews were lightweight wool at best. Green viewing lenses perched on his nose . . . and there was no doubt that this was the reason why the leftenant had warned her against making fun of the family name. His nose was long vertically like the leftenant’s, yes, but it also jutted forward in a sharp point, more nose than most men possessed naturally.
She tried not to stare. Dragging her eyes up to those green lenses, she realized the leftenant’s brother was at most only a thumbwidth taller than her, not the length of a finger. It was odd, but she could sense his presence in the aether as easily as if she had been around this newcomer for a good solid week. He felt warm, clean, and well shielded. The redhead looked back at her, looked at his browner-haired brother, and clapped his hands together, rubbing them in an eager motion. His strawberry blond brows rose in an inquiry.
“Right, then, what have you got for me, Leftenant?” the unnamed brother asked. His tone was a lot more polite when using the other man’s title than Barclei’s had been.
“Tell him what you told me,” Rogen directed her.
Licking her lips and wondering how much she dared tell when this shrouded man was not the mage she was supposed to report everything to, Rexei finally began with the truth. “I was hired by someone in the uh . . . local guild . . . to investigate Servers Guild claims of abuse by priests. As a Sub-Consul, I could represent the local Consulate in the investigation.”
That was her cover story. The cap-and-scarf swathed man nodded, rolling his wrist to get her to move on. “Yes, yes, I know all that. Go on. What do you know about the claims of the Dead God being gone?”
“There was a foreign man—not Arbran, but brought up from beyond the border with another man—and he started negotiating for his freedom,” she said. That earned her snorts of disbelief from all three men. “He said, why should they be draining . . . you know, the prisoners . . . when they could be draining demons.”
The leftenant’s brother’s eyes widened behind those green-tinted viewing lenses, but they did not move from her face. His hand moved though. He pointed at Barclei and snapped his fingers. “You, forget you ever heard that.” Pointing at his brother next, he said, “You, get back to town, and cover all his tracks; make it seem like Longshanks left town with no notice or future address. I’ll give your love to the family.” That finger jabbed at her. “You, come with me.”
“Why?” Again, Rexei surprised herself, but she stood by the word, lifting her chin a little. “I don’t know you from him.” She poked her thumb at the stairwell sentry. “Why should I go anywhere with you?”
“Because I need you to give your report in full to some very interested parties, and it needs to be done immediately.” He reached for her hand.
Rexei backed up. “My orders are to report to Master Julianna Harpshadow. Not to you. If you want to know the full-on details, you can ask her after I’ve given my report. If you’re authorized to know what she requested I learn.”
Both the leftenant and his brother stared at her, mouths open but without any sounds coming out. It was Barclei who spoke, poking his thumb at the brother. “Master Harpshadow reports to him, you stupid twit. He’s the Guild Master.”
She looked back and forth between the three men. The newcomer wasn’t wearing the symbol-stamped gold oval medallion of his guild, so she had no clue which one he headed. Rexei tried a guess. “Hydraulics?”
“The other guild,” the leftenant’s brother said flatly. “If you truly overheard what you say you did, then the priests might want to eliminate you. That means we need to know everything that you know. Give my contemporaries and I every scrap of knowledge you have, and we will give you sanctuary. Now, come.”
This time, when he held out his hand, Rexei let him clasp hers and pull her into the stairwell he had come from. A last glance over her shoulder showed the leftenant turning to head for the stairwell that led back to the hidden entrance in the motorhorse stables.
“Have you eaten?” the Guild Master asked her.
“Uh . . . somewhat. I’ve got food for a bit,” she added. The leftenant’s brother flicked his hand, dismissing her statement. It occurred to her she didn’t know his name, and it looked like this was another long stairwell spiraling down to who knew where. “So, uh . . . the Leftenant’s name is Rogen Tallnose. If you’re his brother, what’s yours?”
“Alonnen.” He didn’t tack on the family name. “And you’re Rexei. We’re a little bit crowded at the moment; we’ve taken in several of the mages that were released, but that’s all in the outer layers, where you were allowed before. Normally, you’d be quartered with them, but right now you’re in too much danger. Some of the outer layer guildmembers have been shifted to the mid-layers, so that’s overcrowded because of the shift inward . . . and of course some of the mid-levels got bumped into the upper levels.
“So, since you’re now an even bigger target than I would be if they knew about me—or maybe on par,” the Guild Master half joked, “that means you’re going to have to share quarters, since there are no empty rooms left.”