Prince Nera Mossveil's Arc

Chapter 5 of 23

Nera reached the southern market by dusk of the next day. He landed the dragonfly in a grove a mile north of the walls and walked the rest on foot. From a low ridge he studied the gates. Two men in plain coats watched the road. Their eyes lifted every time a rider passed. He knew that shape of watching. They were waiting for a short fairy on a green-winged mount. His ears alone would give him away at ten paces. The robe and hat trick would not work twice; the buyer's men had heard about the ferry house by now. He sat in the grove until dark and counted what he had. A blessed dagger. A dragonfly hidden in the trees. A face that no crowd in a human market would forget. He needed a second pair of hands, and he needed someone whose face did not sing fairy at first glance. He knew one man within a day's flight. He flew north through the night and found Gareth Thornfield at the edge of the castle grounds, feeding the gryphon strips of meat off a board. The half-elf, half-ogre looked up once and kept working. Nera told him the buyer's name, the market, and the watchers at the gate. He asked for help. Gareth set the board down. "Fawn's healing," Gareth said. "Stable boy has her. I can ride tonight." "They know my face. Not yours." "Good." They flew south together at first light, Gareth on a borrowed horse below, Nera high on the dragonfly and out of sight of the road. By afternoon they lay again on the ridge above the market. Nera pointed out the two men at the gate and a third he had spotted at the well. Gareth counted them under his breath and nodded once. He would walk in alone. A retired huntsman looking for wine and a bed drew no second glance in a border town. He would find the buyer's rooms, mark the doors, mark the guards, and come back before sundown to tell Nera the shape of the inside. Gareth pulled off his sword belt and left it with Nera. He took a small purse and a walking stick. He crossed the last stretch of open ground at an easy pace and passed the two watchers without a look. One of them glanced at his ears, saw the ogre in his jaw, and turned back to the road. Nera lay in the grass with the blessed dagger across his knee and watched the gate swallow his friend. The market road was closed to him. It was open to Gareth. That was enough for tonight. Tomorrow he would know which door the buyer slept behind, and which window he would come through.