![]() His stride was confident, his attitude bold. His man went on to another church, a tiny chapel hugging the skirts of Torun's royal citadel. An arrow burred behind Gathrid's head and thunked into the inn wall. Gathrid raced down the alley, into a side street, then round front, where he found another arsonist at work. ![]() He grabbed a nearby keg, knocked its bung out, started splashing liquid around. He kept glancing around and muttering to himself as he stole to the cellar door. A moment later a rope dropped and the watcher clambered down. He chose the paymaster, reasoning that if another attack had been ordered it would find Rogala wakened and on guard.Ī dog with an odd bark spoke from the far side of the inn. Gathrid narrowly avoided betraying himself. He crossed the trail of a vagrant who gave himself away by moving with too much speed and suspicion. In the chapel he met an early-rising monk. "How did it go?" this make-believe monk asked. The Kimach Faulstich he deemed responsible for Gudermuth's destruction. He was Bilgoraj's King, Kimach Faulstich. "That's getting a little carried away," he whispered. The backup plan was to burn the inn with everyone inside. Some sort of combustible, Gathrid realized. Once the vagrant guaranteed his unnoted escape, he took the failure of his agents philosophically. In Torun he was as powerful as any prince. The vagrant reported to an underworld chieftain whose name, Suftko, Gathrid had heard in faraway Kacalief. He hoped to pick up the director of the team. ![]() Gathrid chased him a few hundred yards, then doubled back. The arsonist ran like all the imps of Hell were after him. ![]() He listened at the one window revealing a light. The animals fled from him without a whimper. The man led him to a small, neat house guarded by dogs. ![]()
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