below the walls,” Thren ordered. “Move in concert, and keep it quiet. Once set up, things will take time. Kill any who might return early, and wait for the main force to return. And no matter what, make sure the homes burn.”
They all scattered in various directions. Just as they were the last to arrive, James and Veliana were the last to leave.
“His men are split and he hides his own destination,” Veliana said to her guildmaster. “There is no way to betray him without betraying other guilds as well. Now we play along or make enemies of every living man and woman within Veldaren.”
“Never said he was a fool,” James said. “And you’re right. Unless Thren comes to Gemcroft’s, we’d best do as he says and hope the Trifect crumbles.”
“Then we put our faith in him,” she said. “All our plans are nothing. Thren rules this day.”
The King was in a fouler mood than normal. From the window of a castle tower he had observed the great masses traveling west out of Veldaren. Gerand was waiting for him when he returned to the throne room. Sixteen guards flanked his majesty’s every side.
“It looks like an army gathers at our doorstep,” King Vaelor said as he sat on his throne. “And where are my subjects? Shouldn’t I have petty squabbles to settle?”
“Most have decided to join the festivities that transpire every four years rather than wait in line for a ruling they may get on any day,” Gerand explained.
“But everyone?” Vaelor wondered. “Surely there’s a few level-headed men about somewhere.”
“There were a few,” Gerand said, clearing his throat. “I sent them away. From everything we know, today should be…interesting, and I felt it best to keep you safe.”
King Vaelor rolled his eyes. As if determined to show how brave he was, he dismissed half his retainer of guards, leaving only a paltry eight watching over him. Gerand did his best not to roll his eyes in return. With the sheer amount of mercenaries gathered outside the walls, the advisor had thought it best to keep the king’s day dull. Besides, with all eyes turned to the Kensgold, there was too much risk of a silent dagger striking the other way.
“Safe,” the king muttered. “Often you have promised to keep me safe, but where are the results of your promises? What has grown from your comforting words? I was promised the head of Thren Felhorn, yet where is it?”
Gerand coughed and looked at the guards. King Vaelor realized what he wanted and dismissed the remaining eight.
“Don’t get any ideas,” the king said once they were on the far sides of the throne room. He pulled back his robe to reveal his gold sword belted at his hip. Gerand was far from impressed but didn’t dare let that show.
“As you must understand,” Gerand began, “arranging Thren’s murder is no easy feat. Men have wanted him dead for a decade, yet he remains as powerful as ever.”
“I want his head,” the king said. “Not excuses.”
“I am giving you neither,” Gerand said. “Only word of what is to come. My men have crawled about the city and spent much. We gained little in return, but all it takes is one whisper, one turncoat, and the whole fortune is worth the coin. And that is what I have: a turncoat.”
King Vaelor sat erect in his seat.
“You found a member of his guild to turn against him?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement.
“I cannot say,” Gerand insisted. “Surely you understand. I will say nothing of who he or she is, other than that the price was absurdly high. I dare not risk a single whisper reaching its way to Thren. I already know of his plans for the Kensgold, and my little bird has informed me of a few deviations. If all goes well, I will deliver his head to you on a platter by tomorrow morning.”
“Excellent,” the king said, slapping his thigh with his hand. “What will I do when you’re gone, Gerand?”
The advisor smiled. He had every intention of being around long after King Vaelor was gone, not the reverse.
“A king of your majesty and skill will always find a way to reign,” he said.
King Vaelor laughed.
“So true. But what am I to do? With no squabbles, no royal visitors, and no feasts planned, I am sorely pressed for entertainment.”
“For that, I have found a solution,” Gerand said. He clapped twice, and one of the guards at the throne room’s main entrance threw