Reba led Byron up the back stairs to the old minstrels’ gallery, now a dusty, dark balcony overlooking the dining hall of the inn they’d tailed the two men to. It also happened to be Reba’s preferred accommodation in this town. Probably not a coincidence.
Their quarry had settled at a table with a clear view of the door. Reba’s contact, Jaxon, sat in the light, a grin on his face that radiated more tension than good humour. His companion, a weedy-looking man with sharp features and an awkward, darting manner, was trying to fade into the shadows that were sadly lacking around their table.
Byron crouched behind the gallery railing, scanning the whole room. “There’s more than just them waiting.”
He was right. At least half the room seemed to be eyeing the door, waiting for someone…
A quiet thump at the back of the gallery startled both of them sending hands to hilts, until Misty prowled out of the darkness to cuddle up to Byron and glare at the crowd below.
It was time to leave. The inn, and the town. They needed to head somewhere unexpected, wherever that may be. Something nagged at Reba though. This was undoubtedly about Byron and yet, it somehow felt … other.
They ghosted back down the stairs and out to the back entrance. Voices in the alley had them ducking behind the open door. Two of the inn’s workers, availing themselves of a quiet moment and the gutter from the sounds of things.
A man spoke. “Interesting bunch in tonight.”
A snort, then a different voice. “Idiot chancers, looking for an easy pay day.”
“Ain’t nowt easy about Reba Weaponsmaster.”
That was reassuring to hear. The other man replied. “Nor her ‘prentice either, from what I’ve heard. But fools don’t listen when gold’s a-jingling.”
“What’s so special about some damn cat anyway?”
Misty? Reba and Byron exchanged startled glances.
“Word is, the boy picked up a ghoul-cat, straight from the fae realms.”
The first man choked. “And they think to take it away from the one it’s chosen to bond with?”
“Like I said, fools.”
Heavy steps moved towards their hiding place and two large figures lumbered through the door. Reba thought they were a little too careful in not looking towards their hiding place, but wasn’t about to question their luck.
They slipped into the alley – it smelt like a place to leave quickly.
Byron tweaked Reba’s cloak once they were safely away and walking down a busy street, just two more late night shoppers. “What did they mean? What’s a ghoul-cat?”
Reba took the turn they needed to collect new horses, good thing she’d already sold the ones they rode in on. “I’ll explain as we ride, we have a new destination.”
“Where?”
“The fae realms.”
The DNA of Stories 