>>6375717>>6375824"You want proof," you say. "I'll get you proof. But I need more than just directions."
Tanner's good eye narrows.
"I need your best warriors to help with the ambush. And your spies. The ones who know when the watch changes, which guards are lazy, which paths are blind. I hit that shipment, I hit it right, or I don't hit it at all."
He's quiet. You can see him weighing it, trust versus caution, hope versus survival.
"You're asking a lot," he says finally.
"I'm offering a lot."
Another long silence. Then he nods, slow.
"Wait here."
He leaves. You hear muffled voices outside, the creak of boards, footsteps moving away. For a long time, nothing happens. Then he's back, and behind him come three others.
The first is a woman, thin as a rail, with quick eyes and no brand on her face. Born in the swamp, you guess. Never been a slave. She carries a knife and nothing else.
"This is Kestrel," Tanner says. "Knows the Fourth Claw better than anyone. Knows which guards sleep on duty, which ones take bribes, which ones beat slaves for fun. She'll get you in."
The second is a mountain of a man, bald, scarred, both arms covered in old brand marks. He carries a massive axe wrapped in cloth.
"Garrick. Was a gladiator in Phoenix City before he escaped. Killed seventeen men in the pits. He'll handle the fighting."
The third is younger. Nervous. Carries a bow.
"Lark. Best shot we got. Covers the others."
Tanner looks at you.
"There's your support. Don't waste them."
Three days later.
You're in position.
Kestrel was worth ten times her weight. She knew every guard rotation, every blind spot, every moment of darkness between torchlight. The shipment was moved at dusk, under heavy escort, forty soldiers, two officers, a wagon team of six.
Garrick led the diversion. He and a dozen swampers hit a patrol a mile east, drew half the escort away with fire and screaming. Lark's arrows took out the two officers before they could give orders. Your thanes moved in from the west, silent as death.
The fight lasted three minutes.
The soldiers who didn't run died where they stood. The wagon team bolted. You lost two thanes to fire, one stepped in front of a torch, the other got doused in oil and lit up, but they'll reform eventually. Takes more than fire to kill a Skull-Eater. You make sure to retrieve their remains.
You have the shipment.
The swampers direct you deep into the marsh, past hidden channels and submerged paths, to a place you'd never find on your own. A warehouse, half-sunk into the mud, built from scavenged wood and hidden under a canopy of ancient trees. Inside, it's dry. Cramped. Lit by a single lantern.
The crate sits in the center of the floor.
Kestrel produces a crowbar. Looks at you. You nod.
She cracks it open.
