The hero's party (3)

Tense silence was their eigth companion the whole time they escorted the girl out of the slums. She wasn't from the lower district either, so they left her at the boundary to the merchant's district. It was eerie how there were guards patrolling every where except in the slums. Perhaps the smell of a city's worth of sewage forced them away.

The blue haired girl made to start speaking immediately, but James shushed her. He gestured to the people around and pointed to his ears. He didn't wait to see if she got it before he started moving again.

"Don't speak for now. Just listen, won't you?" he addressed the woman.

She nodded after a minutes pondering. James took his time speaking again, trying as he was, to find any suspicious characters in the press of bodies their group had to navigate.

"I'm willing to help you, but it won't be for free."

She made to protest, but he shut her up with a stare. He saw what he was looking for ahead. It was nothing special. Just the type of alley with run down buildings that almost always housed a dilapidated inn.

With any luck, it'd be an abandoned wreck. This kind of thing belonged in the slums, so self respecting merchants would likely ignore it. Only crooks would use it for their own personal business.

"Hey Jason, why don't you hood up? You're the only one of us not wearing some kind of disguise."

The man had travelled with a hooded cloak as James had bid him, and so he fished it out and fastened it over his head.

"Don't know why I need it, though. I always thought I have the kind of ordinary appearance that'll let me get anywhere without issue."

James saw the most promising establishment. It wasn't a tavern or inn, but it'd have to do. There was no one there as he'd expected, except the man behind the counter.

"Bring out seven slices of pie if you will. And tea too."

They sat in another bout of oppressive quiet, waiting for the baked goods they were definitely not going to eat to arrive. James wondered how these guys got business hidden in such an out of the way alley, and with the alley looking as uninviting as it did, so he asked the man when he brought their orders.

The man shrugged. "I ain't no business man, now, am I? I just stand behind t'e coun'er sometimes."

"We are not going to eat this, of course?" the lady asked as soon as the waiter was away.

James stuck his finger into the frosting, licked it with a savoring smile.

"Sugar and fat. Nothing worse for your health. I love it."

A bug of somekind scuttled across their corner table, the girl yelped and fumbled out of her seat. The sound of it crushing replaced by her thud to the floor next to it. The sounds woke many of the bugs hiding in the floor plunks, and she would have bolted right out if three men weren't laughing their hearts out at her.

Even the young girl with the cat was staring flatly at her, as if to say, 'you are the ones who give all women bad names, aren't you?'

The small kitten was pawing at some of the bugs. No one else made a move to touch their own baked goods.

James clicked his tongue. "You guys are all cowards."

"So now I can ask what you want in return for helping me with this information?"

"Nothing much. In exchange for my help, I just need your help with a little something."

He told her, all of them really, his plans for three days hence.

"That is a big ask. I admit that I don't want to see innocents suffer, but what do I owe this kingdom. Even the information you're willing to provide won't be enough to incetivitise me into helping."

"Because you don't want any one here finding out who you really are."

Her face hardened again. James knew how many precautions she'd always taken with her secrets. No one had known. No one had suspected. They'd thought she might have been hiding out in a remote village or something, but she'd been in a totally exposed position in the capital, attending the royal academy no less.

"How the hell do you know who I am?"

"I already told you. I know lots of things, Rayne. Or should I say, Raynea—"

"No you shouldn't! I go by Rayne now. That will be enough. So, are you implying you will release my secrets if I don't help you with this quest?"

"Nah. I'm not one for black mail and all that. I was just hoping to offer muscle in your raids. Perhaps help with the planning phase and the like."

"Raids?"

"I'm almost positive they have more than one hideout. Which is why I want you to wait till tomorrow night to make your raids."

"You said you'd offer muscle? Are you thinking of being part of my team?"

James snorted. "No, of course not. I'm going to offer these two great warriors," he gestured to both Hans and Jason, "and perhaps one more if I can."

"Good. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but from what I've seen you'd be useless in a fight."

James's face changed. "Hey, now that's not fair!"

The next morning, as James and Hansworth once again tortured their muscles, he kept wondering whether he'd be able to use her. He'd done whatever he could, but she'd been one of the members of the hero's party he trusted the least. Mary, who'd introduced herself as Whisper the shadow.

She was waiting outside the small room he'd consigned as his study when he finished breakfast. He hadn't seen her since the day he'd arrived, but seeing that she was still in her maids uniform told him enough about her decision. The hero's party was coming together nicely.

He'd have the fools team up for this assignment, and hopefully they'd see how well they worked together and decide to form a party. And there would be rumours and all about them, and James's name will never be heard of. His smoke screen that he could puppeteer from the shadows.They were destined to work together anyway.

He sat behind the desk, sifting through a pile of papers. Mary stood straight and at attention, rigid like a soldier in formation.

"You never did report on the assassin?"

"She lives yet, though she is as silent as the dead. She will have words for me in time though."

James's hands fumbled with his papers, were unable to stop them from slipping, and when he tried to reorganize them, instead cluttered his writing implements and other table accoutrements. He didn't remember anything about torturing. Why was she torturing the woman?

"I don't want her alive. Or at least I don't want her saying what she knows to anyone. That is all."

Mary bowed. "Yes, my lord. I will make sure her words to me are her last."

Was she being intentionally stubborn? In any case, he had other business to discuss. He again searched through the sheets of paper on his desk.

"Here, read this."

She stared at the writing for a long minute, her brow furrowed.

"I... can't," she said with a hint of shock.

"How long would it take you to crack the code?"

"Far too long, I'm sure. I'm not even certain I could definitely do it."

James shrugged. "I guess that proves my codes are as tough as they come. Here, this is the key. We shall exchange information through codes like these from now on. I'll teach you, in the next few weeks."

She grabbed the piece of paper, pursed through it a few times, read the other one. She nodded, held out the key to James. He extended his small finger, and a candle like flame took to the paper.

"I suppose you know what to do now?"

"Yes. I will make this investigation my priority. It may be in our best interests to move fast if we want to make these villains pay." There was something about her voice, like this was personal.

He had never found out the reason she'd decided to join the hero's party in the first place.

"Good. The raid is supposed to happen tonight, so I was hoping you put your best effort forward. I take it you have no objection in helping out tonight."

"No. Though I will not go as Mary the maid."

James couldn't completely hide his shudder. A knock sounded on the door.

"What is it?" James asked.

"A guest is here for you, my lord," came the old butler's voice.

'A guest?'

"Have them wait for me in the antechamber, won't you?"

"Would that I could, my lord."

The door banged open and outside stood a woman with silky golden hair falling all the way down to her shoulders. Her smile was as false as the flat earth theory.

"Lady Gertrude, what an honour to have you in my house. I'm afraid you've caught me at a rather bad time."

"Skip the formalities, lord Halden, you must know why I'm here."

Another member of the hero's party, though one he trusted the least. Even less than he trusted Zain the fat merchant.