The people walking about were few and far between. Nearly half of them were city guard patrols, casting suspicious looks at everyone they passed. The rest of the people kept to tightly-knit groups, never walking alone, but never approaching strangers. When two groups needed to pass each other, they would go out of their way to give each other a wide berth.
This made it hard for Calvin to get any good looks at people, but he did get the sense that they were a paranoid, mistrustful lot.
“Looks like the locals won’t be much help,” Calvin commented.
“Then maybe we don’t look for locals, sir,” Bob said. Like Edwin had before him, Bob wore a cloak to hide the patches of black scales on his face and arms. It earned him some extra scrutiny from the townspeople but prevented them from seeing why they should fear him.
“I see a tavern yonder,” Pelias said, pointing.
Calvin nodded. “Always a good spot to find travelers.”
The atmosphere in the tavern was the most awkward Calvin had ever found. To be sure, the people inside were mostly travelers: they had none of the same paranoia the locals displayed. Instead, many of them threw frequent glances about, as if they were trying to figure out how to behave. Four city guards circled the room, and most of the glances were directed at them.
“You two wait outside,” Calvin said.
“Yes, sir!” Bob went directly back outside, but Pelias waited a moment to point a table out to Calvin. Four familiar faces sat there: Julius, Arg, Shale, and the cleric they’d saved from Waska.
Calvin grinned. Then a thought occurred to him. “Are you sure—” he turned to Pelias, but the elf had already retreated outside. Calvin shrugged. If Pelias pointed them out, he must have no objection to recruiting them. Calvin approached the table.
Shale spotted him and elbowed Julius, who’d been recounting a recent adventure. He stopped to follow Shale’s gesture, then smiled. “Well, if it isn’t the Snake Man himself.”
Calvin paused. “Excuse me?”
“The Snake Man. You took us to kill snakes.”
“I don’t see how that makes me a snake man. You just admitted I went to kill snakes. That doesn’t make me a snake.”
Julius waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, snakes kill each other all the time.”
Shale elbowed him again. “Ignore him. You want to sit?”
“Yes, thanks.” He took a seat at their table. “I see you’ve made a friend.”
“We’ve met,” the cleric said.
“I remember,” Calvin said. “I never got your name.”
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“It’s Dorothy.”
“Beautiful name, Dorothy. I’m Calvin.”
She nodded.
“You want something,” Shale said. “What is it?”
Calvin grinned. “You’re right. I’ve got another job if you’re willing.”
“Infiltrating another cult?”
“Not an infiltration,” Calvin said, “not after what happened last time.” He allowed himself a few moments before continuing. “This time, we’re going to lure them out to us.”
“How do you expect to do that?” Shale asked.
Calvin pulled out a sheet of paper and pushed it on the table. “That’s a copy of the letter we’ll send to the leader of Rikchay. It’s from Bob, asking them if he can join up. The excuse is he’s trying to flee Hark’akuy’s chaotic collapse.”
The four mercenaries poured over the letter. It read:
Great Shaman Pintor,
I have been driven from my home by the chaos of civil war. Waska, Warden of Hark’akuy, and two of his Binders have fallen. Two of the remaining Binders compete for the title of Warden. They rally for favor among my peers, but each has wronged me on multiple occasions, and I could not abide my tribe if either of them prevailed.
I therefore ask you, Great Shaman Pintor, to accept my petition to join Rikchay as your humble servant. I have long admired the skills of Rikchay and the fear they strike in those of their territory.
If it pleases you, name the place, the day, and the hour that I might undergo the conversion ritual and become yours. I will bring the necessary materials as a gift to show my willingness to serve you.
But I dare not show my face in Rikchay before the ritual is complete. I suspect the others will think me cowardly if they see I come from Hark’akuy in its time of turmoil. Please only bring your most trusted associates to the ritual.
Yours sincerely, et cetera.
Shale eyed the letter. “It says here he’s bringing a gift of materials for the conversion ritual. I’m guessing it’s not a cake?”
“Nope.” Calvin smiled. “That’ll be me, Pelias, and anyone else willing to help us take down Rikchay.”
“Oh,” Dorothy said. “That’s what you did when I saw you.”
“Exactly. We’ll pretend to be captives, then strike when they least expect it.”
Shale leaned back. “And what makes you think this will lure out the leader and not some underling? Or if he’ll even accept the request?”
“Oh, he’ll accept it. These cults don’t accept just anybody, so their numbers are limited. Someone from a rival cult is the best kind of recruit: he already has most of the training he needs, and he’s usually skilled enough to be valuable. But he’ll start as a sort of slave to the person who performs the conversion ritual on him. That’s why the leader has an interest in doing it himself. If he let someone else do it, he’d be giving them a pawn that they could use to undermine or even overthrow him.”
Dorothy, who’d been biting her lip, said, “You seem to know a lot about these cults.”
“I hope I do. I’ve devoted a lot of time studying them. You can’t eradicate something if you don’t understand it.”
Arg frowned at the letter. “You’re asking the leader to come with none but a few trusted associates. Assuming he complies with that request, we won’t have many opponents in this fight.”
“The numbers may be few, but they’ll be the most important few. The most powerful few.”
Arg grunted. “I suppose there’s something to that.”
“That’s where the glory is,” Julius said, grinning.
“What about the commission?” Shale asked. “Will it be the same as last time, or will it be less because it’s ‘less deadly’?”
“The same.”
“Then I’m in.”
“Fantastic.”
“Me, too,” Dorothy said.
Calvin paused. “I think you’d better sit this one out. You’ve been in a similar situation before, and it might revive some of that trauma.”
“You’re going—” she took a breath. “You’re going to fight some powerful cultists. You’ll need some support.”
“I need fighters.”
“Fighters get injured. I’m coming. You don’t have to pay me. I’m coming.”
Calvin sighed. “If you insist.”