“Ren, Trystan. Take the horses.”

  At Yshnim’s order, Ren dismounted, Trystan followed soon after. By the time Ren walked around her mount, Yshnim was already pacing forward on her own two feet, walking towards Igbol.

  Ren took the reins of both her and Yshnim’s horse, clucking her lips to get them moving. She gnced behind her shoulders to see that Trystan was having a harder time pulling the other two along. He had strapped his spear through a hook in his mount’s carrying bag, but kept the round shield on his back.

  Mentally, she clicked her tongue, then reminded herself that it wasn’t his fault, at least not this time. There was nothing Trystan could do about the horse’s temper, and it occurred to Ren that Yshnim had intentionally put him to deal with the two troublesome geldings.

  They left the trail, weaving between the woods looking for a spot to tie the mounts to.

  When Ren slowed down, Trystan spoke.

  “This is too close,” his voice was a sweet whisper, barely audible. “Ren,” he added a moment ter.

  She stared at the way they had come. It was an easy trek off the road, but—

  “The terrain here is too ft. If anyone else comes up the trail, our prints are easy to see and… they’ll barely have to be fifty paces into the woods to see—”

  “I get it,” she said. “You’re right.”

  They found a better spot soon enough, where the trees huddled together at the base of a small hill. Ren tied her horses to different trunks, close enough but not too close.

  She had to wait for Trystan to finish with his part. Always a little slower, the farm boy was. His hair was an unruly nest of brown, his face so unassuming around the brown eyes that Ren was sure there had to be a couple hundred people in Odanas who could pass for him. A couple hundred twin brothers, she thought.

  “What?” Trystan asked.

  Ren got rid of her smirk. Turned without saying a thing. Trystan followed.

  They found Yshnim a little ways north, her posture the same as always, arms crossed, still as a statue.

  Twenty paces ahead of her, Igbol was hunched down, his long blonde braided hair falling over the white cloak, one hand on his spear. Though the view was blocked by his back, Ren knew that their Acolyte friend was touching the stones in front of him with his free hand, eyes closed, tapping into his god’s power.

  Earlier, Yshnim had sent Igbol ahead to scout, leaving Trystan to care for his horse. If he had come back, that meant he had found something.

  “We’re not fighting yet,” Yshnim said, her voice low so as to not distract Igbol.

  Ren moved her hand away from the rondel’s grip. A bad habit of hers, one that had saved her life on multiple occasions, but which Yshnim had been attempting — and failing — to get rid of. When Ren had her white cloak fully wrapped around herself, she could move her arm stealthily, but there were plenty of situations where keeping the cloak out of the way was mandatory. The cloak could get in the way during a fight, so it was better to release it and retrieve the dirty-white thing from the ground ter. When presenting themselves to someone, hiding her body under the cloak would invite suspicion depending on the situation.

  “I have something to ask,” Trystan said, stopping by Yshnim’s other side.

  “Ask, then.”

  “The rider who brought the message, how fast could he have reached Geshin? I guess… what I mean to say is—”

  “Don’t guess, Trystan. You’re smart, and it’s about time you start trusting that. The time you take pre-ambling could cost someone’s life one day.”

  Ren had understood. “He—”

  Yshnim’s hand snapped up without her even turning, interrupting Ren. She couldn’t help but clench her jaw in frustration.

  “Did Lord Caron not send his men after these bandits? Instead of waiting for his rider to reach us, he could have sent his own men to fight. Instead, he… the lord is risking letting them escape.”

  “He is, all for the sake of building a retionship with the Armsmasters. It happens often enough. He must have been waiting for some trouble to happen, and to him the potential loss of two vilge children he doesn’t even know the name of doesn’t outweigh the benefits of keeping us around.” Yshnim smiled to herself. “Which is why we will be leaving after this job.”

  “It just doesn’t sit well with me,” Trystan said. “Knowing that the Armsmasters are used this way.”

  “Good. What about you, Ren? What do you think?” Yshnim turned to her.

  “The lord is a coward and all of his men too.”

  “He is, just don’t say that where anyone else might hear. As for his men, we can’t really know.”

  “We would have taken the job if the rider from the vilge came to us, wouldn’t we? Even if they couldn’t pay for it?” Trystan asked.

  “We would,” Yshnim answered, fast and assertive, her voice accompanied by a slight snting of her eyes, as if the suggestion that it was even something to be discussed irritated her. “Don’t fault the vilgers for that, if we ever meet them. They probably didn’t even know we were in the city.”

  Igbol looked over his shoulder. At the signal the three approached.

  “Did you find them?” Yshnim asked.

  Still hunched down, Igbol closed his eyes once again, but he wasn’t touching the stones anymore.

  “Can’t be sure if it is them, but it’s a group of around twenty people. Maybe fifteen, maybe twenty-five. They’re too close to be sure, and it’s hard to see around here, enough that I can’t tell children apart from adults, or they’re all adults.”

  “How far?”

  “Almost two-thousand paces. They seem to be in a gde. The trail we were on gets close, but I can’t tell if it’s close enough. If it is, they’ll see us before we see them. I suggest we follow the trail halfway there, then I can feel again. Now that I know what to look for it’ll be easier and faster. Even if they can see us, it’s hard to tell if they’ll want trouble. Maybe we should just send the assassin in,” Igbol gestured towards Ren.

  Ren noticed that she was reaching for the bde again. Moved the hand away. Igbol knew she couldn’t deal with that many men alone, much less so out in the open.

  “If they’re bandits, won’t they approach us if they can see from the gde?”

  “Kidnappers?” Igbol asked.

  “That can’t be their source of income,” Yshnim said. “Go on, Trystan.”

  “Yes. I don’t think this is something they can do much of. If only the kids would be enough, then wouldn’t they have left the region already? They might not approach Armsmasters, but we can hide our cloaks, look like mercenaries.”

  “Four against twenty. They’ll take it,” Ren said.

  “Still risky. What if they trail us with bows?”

  “I can confirm what weapons they have when we’re closer. The rest,” Igbol pointed a thumb Ren’s way.

  She felt as if she was being teased. Somehow.

  Yshnim gestured for Igbol to stand up, then started issuing her orders.

  “I’ll be forward on the trail. Igbol behind me to the left and Trystan to the right — you have the shield. Be ready to unmount at any moment. Ren. You find this gde and stay out of sight until someone comes our way. Leave your cloak behind. We’ll have to leave your mount as well, otherwise they might suspect something. You’ll be separated from us, so think for yourself and act — you’re good at that.”

  Igbol was the first to stretch out a hand for her cloak, so Ren handed it to him. She got rid of the chainmail as well, as it would announce her arrival to anyone that wasn’t half-deaf. Beneath the white cloak and gray chainmail, her gambeson, trousers and boots were all hues of dark brown. Her orange hair was easy to spot, so she set about rubbing it with dirt and mud.

  The other three turned the way they had come, Trystan as the guide.

  You’re good at that. Her chest heaved with pride at Yshnim’s approval. If things continued this way, it wouldn’t take long for her to graduate from an Armed Sister to an Armsmaster.

  Posture low, making as little sound as she could, Ren moved east, keeping Igbol’s estimate of two-thousand paces in mind.

  She was no hunter and keeping out of sight in a city was entirely different from doing so in the woods, but she was improving in the past few months with the Armsmasters. Even if Igbol’s estimate was off, she had complete trust that there was no scout on the bandit’s side, which meant there was nothing to worry about as long as she did her part.

  When they came into view, it was obvious that they were bandits, though confirming if they were the ones they were looking for was harder.

  She counted eighteen men in the gde, but the direction Ren was staring from was thick with trees and there could be more out of sight. Their clothing was crude and dirty, no armor save for a few gambesons. In their belts the men carried knives and axes, nothing as fshy as a sword or a spear nor, thankfully, any bow. They could all pass for common workers if they weren’t gathered in the same pce.

  Not professionals, but they’re used to this.

  She couldn’t see the children, however, unless they were hidden somewhere. Trystan had been right in saying that it was hard to imagine selling two children would be enough to pay for that many men’s work. Although it sickened her to think about that, Ren knew this wasn’t anything special. A little power in the wrong person’s hands and it didn’t take long for them to buy others or sell them. Ren was more than used to slums.

  Some men in the opposite side of the camp started moving. A few voices called for others, though they were competent enough to not shout. Soon some men were moving away, exiting the gde from the opposite side that Ren approached by.

  Think for yourself. Ren barely had to consider her options before deciding to wait a little longer. She didn’t know how far away the trail was, and if she moved too fast they could all turn her way, the others by the trail having no way of finding out and coming to her rescue.

  Some time passed. The men who stayed behind in the camp didn’t seem worried. It wasn’t until sounds of fighting — steel and screams — reached the gde that they moved their asses, standing up and reaching for weapons. Half the stragglers went in the direction the others had headed earlier.

  She saw the kids as one of the men came into view, pulling them by a rope that tied them together, left arm with right arm, the same for the legs. He was a burly fellow, grunting with every step, the kids were more being dragged than walking on their own.

  Ren dashed, not caring about keeping cover anymore. By the time the others would notice, she’d be done with him.

  He turned at the sound way faster than she expected, but Ren didn’t stop. The man threw the kids out of the way. They fell into a heap of supplies and tarps, disappearing beneath.

  Reaching for his axe and bringing it down ahead of him, the man attacked.

  Ren drew to a halt. The axe cut the air in front of her harmlessly. Before he could recover, Ren leaped inside his range, rondel fshing through his arm.

  He had enough strength to bring the axe around, but Ren kicked him in the guts before the ssh could catch too much momentum. As he tattered for bance, she cut through his throat, turning before he finished falling on his back.

  Two other men were coming her way, each with a nasty knife in hand.

  Parrying dagger in one hand, rondel in the other, Ren surprised them by being the one to approach.

  The closest man sshed and she caught it with her parrying dagger, diverting the attack. Ren tried to use his momentum to throw him in front of the other man, but the first stomped on the ground to keep himself in pce, backhand sshing at her.

  She dodged it by a hair’s breadth. The second man closed in, but Ren wasn’t in the correct stance, her left arm too far back. Ren blocked with the rondel, feeling the blow shaking up her arm, the bde biting into her side.

  She twisted with all her strength the moment the cold iron penetrated her flesh, bringing her rondel back from the opposite direction to stab at the man’s side. He moaned in pain as she teared through organs.

  A crouch and a roll to the side kept her alive. As one fell to the ground, clutching the bde that had sshed his midriff open, the other approached, a hint of madness in his eyes now that she was unarmed.

  He kicked at the ground to start his dash towards Ren.

  The throwing dagger went inside his mouth. In surprise and pain the man stumbled, the angle of his dash diverting.

  Weaving around him was easy then. She kicked his side with all the strength in her body, using his own weight to drive him to the ground. A sm on his wrist and the dagger was free for her to bury it into his chest.

  Ren moved as fast as she possibly could, one hand reaching for the parrying dagger and another for the rondel — How the fuck did I let it go? — but something stopped her.

  Her fingers had reached the rondel’s grip when some force pulled her back. Two arms had hooked from under her armpits, pulling her up. There was a gurgling sound as she was shaken.

  Somehow, the burly man bleeding from his throat had enough strength in him for a desperate attack in his st moments, and from the way he was trying to lift her it seemed he was going to sm her at something.

  She tensed her entire body, a leg snapping out to kick against the ground and push herself up, driving her head into the man’s jaw, teeth cttering together in a loud, painful snap.

  That brought the fight out of him. The impossibly tenacious man fell to the ground, hands reaching for the ruin of his throat.

  A few men seemed to have been lost between helping in the trail below and against her. Ren knew her face was spttered with blood and her hair must be wild, so she smiled at them before retrieving her weapons. How the fuck, Ren?

  “We surrender,” one of them said, eyes so wide it seemed they were about to pop out.

  There was a reason why they had staggered, unsure of which way to go. Those two men were cowards.

  “Drop your weapons,” Ren ordered.

  They stared at each other, one in fear, the other in judgment. There were no more sounds of fighting behind them. All dead, then.

  “I only need one of you to talk,” she said, taking a step forward.

  Both let go of their knives.

  “Kneel.”

  “We surrender!” the man repeated.

  “Did I say I’m going to kill you?”

  They did as she ordered.

  Ren approached and brought her leg around in a savage kick against the side of the quieter one’s head. The one who spoke was crawling away, staring up at her with a face that she assumed was supposed to be pleading, but which only managed to look like pathetic terror. This one she kicked in the balls.

  As Ren proceeded to reach for their weapons, sending them skidding on the ground, the others were approaching. She spared a look to be sure that all three were alive.

  “You did it again,” Yshnim said, her voice sharp.

  Instead of turning to regard her, Ren walked back towards where she had seen the children. She could worry about Yshnim’s scolding ter.

  She reached for the tarps and pulled them up in one fell swoop. By the time it registered to Ren that that had been a stupid idea, the two children were already trying to crawl away from her, grunting against the ropes that kept them from talking.

  Ren dropped her daggers.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” she said, hands up. “We’re here to help. Your parents sent us. We killed the bad men.” Ren reached for a random piece of cloth from the heap and used it to clean the worst of the blood from her face. “We’re Armsmasters. You know the Armsmasters? We deal with bad people. Come, let me take you out of those ropes. We’re bringing you back to your parents.”

  They still needed more convincing, but eventually the two boys let her approach. Ren released them from the ropes and, to her surprise, they embraced her.