Chapter 23: Shadows in the Rafters

Two days after his return from the Iron Spine, a discreet second message arrived from the Salty Kraken, slipped under the safehouse gate by a runner and retrieved by Reniah. Zevryn unrolled the parchment by the light of a single candle.

The innkeeper’s intel was precise. A group of five individuals had been meeting in a low-end tavern near the dock district. Among them, the innkeeper had spotted a familiar face: the female scholar from the recent expedition, meeting in close quarters with one of the veteran guards who had accompanied them. Their professional facade concealed a much closer, intimate arrangement.

Zev did not wait for daylight. Shedding his heavy cloaks and leaving his primary gear locked in the safehouse, he melted into the city’s nocturnal labyrinth.

Moving through the dark alleys, he shifted into an advanced shadow-weaving stealth technique, specifically a subterranean stalking art that allowed his obsidian frame to blend seamlessly into absolute darkness while leaving no sound, no draft, and no footprint. He tracked the pair from a distance, keeping well beyond the reach of torchlight until they slipped into a discreet, second-floor safehouse tucked behind a quiet merchant square.

Zev scaled the outer masonry with effortless grace, perching soundlessly on the steep slate roof overlooking their window. For a long while, the only sounds drifting up through the cracked glass were the muffled, frantic sounds of their physical intimacy. Zev waited with cold, statuesque patience, his breathing dropping to an imperceptible rhythm.

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Once the noises subsided and the room grew still, he dropped down from the roofline, clinging to the shadowed overhang directly beside the window.

"...and you're certain he won't talk?" a male voice muttered from inside, carrying the distinct, hardened cadence of the expedition guard.

"He's a mercenary. He took his coin and stayed silent," the female scholar replied, her voice soft. "But our superiors want to know more. Our intelligence only tracks him back two months, as he just appeared in the city and rented a room at the Salty Kraken. Even our network won't dare provoke that one-eared innkeeper to dig deeper."

"And the latest update?"

"He bought a modest house in the outer ward. Keeps a single mute servant girl. Sells beast cores, keeps to himself." There was a pause, accompanied by the rustling of parchment in the dim room. "The question is: are we going to recruit him?"

A low, scheming chuckle answered. "He noticed the hidden decoy rune in the tomb before anyone else did. He's sharp, far too sharp to be a simple sword-for-hire. We'll approach him with a high-paying contract. If he agrees, we use him to spring and disarm the lethal wards in the true sanctum. His kind is best buried in the dark anyway."

"And if he refuses?"

"Then we eliminate him before he uncovers the real vault."

Another rustle of cloth. "When do we move?"

"End of the month. Two weeks from now, we head back up the mountain. Make sure the package is ready."

Outside the window, hanging silently in the cold night air, a thin, razor-sharp smile touched the corners of Zevryn’s lips.

They wanted to hire him as expendable bait to clear the traps of the true Iron Spine tomb. They wanted him buried. Little did they know, he had already planned to return to those exact mountain vaults alone.

He stepped back into the shadows, vanishing into the night without a trace.