Secret Seller: Prequel to The Famine Cycle, an epic fantasy thief saga

8: The Guildmasters

When Xaron finally arrived back at the alley where Nomusa and I waited, I drew him into an embrace, grime and sweat and all. "You damned fool," I muttered into his shoulder.

"Let him breathe a moment." Nomusa gently pried me off, while Xaron had an embarrassed but pleased grin plastered on his face.

I poked him in the chest. "I pretended to be an acolyte for you. Had to play the demure, chaste girl to that she-devil Feiyan's face."

His grin widened. "I figured it was you. Thanks again, though to be honest, I was practically escaping by then anyway."

I rolled my eyes. "You could have stopped with thanks."

"Perhaps you had best tell us what you learned," Nomusa interjected.

Xaron took a deep breath, then launched into his tale. He recounted how he'd scaled the cliff in a single leap, crossed the courtyard under the guard's nose without being detected once, then how he'd traveled the rooms without light and didn't bump into a single thing.

Nomusa and exchanged glances. We knew better than to believe a word of it.

Finally, he arrived at the important points: how the silver-haired woman's name was Iela, and that she was a feral warden who could do things with channeling — like creating ice sculptures — that Xaron could not. And he told of how this feral frightened Feiyan enough that she didn't think her power was anything compared to the power Iela's master wielded. Apprehension prickled my skin. I understood how she felt that way from just Xaron's description. If this mysterious man had a feral warden working for him, who knew what other resources he might have at his disposal.

After Xaron had finished his telling, Nomusa said in an awed voice, "Another feral warden." She shook her head. "I do not like the idea of crossing her."

I remained silent. I didn't like it any better than she, but I also knew we couldn't abandon this hunt now. Too many lives could be at stake. Not to mention the opportunity this represented for us.

"But what do you think they are really administering the pyrkin potions for?" Xaron wondered aloud. "It doesn't make any sense. If it's not meant to kill these people, what is it meant to do?"

I shrugged. "I suppose Eazal would be able tell us if we could convince him. But beyond that, I don't know of any other leads." I screwed up my eyes in concentration. "I feel like we almost know enough of the picture for this to be something substantial, something of value to someone. But we still need evidence, tangible evidence."

"Or allies who only require rumors," a voice said from further down the alley.

We whirled, looking for the speaker. His voice seemed familiar. When the man stepped from the shadows a moment later, I instantly recognized who it was. "Talan the Guilder," I greeted him grimly. "Still lurking about?" I wondered how much he had overheard.

He bowed slightly. "It's what I'm paid to do. You, however, seem to lack some skill in what you're paid to do. Or did none of you observe me listening to your conversation?"

"Perhaps not," Nomusa said, sidling a step closer and falling into a balanced stance. I recognized it as one from her homeland's martial art of Ixolo, which allowed for immediate offensive action. "But that's not our only skill."

Next to me, Xaron had his fists clenched like he might try striking at the Guilder as well. I knew I had to handle the situation quickly, or things could get out of hand. Guilders were not a defenseless sort of people, and I didn't want either of my friends to be in danger.

"What do you want?" I said. "You must want something if you're announcing yourself."

Talan inclined his head towards me, a half-sneer plastered over his face. He seemed to take little note of Nomusa and Xaron's aggression. "How very astute of you. Yes, I want something. What you've learned through your—" His lips twitched. "—brave endeavors promise to be precisely the information I could use."