Page 96 of The Cradle of Ice

She frowned. “Why?”

He told her about Jamelsh’s attack, about how he had lured them into the ambush with that false promise of gold. Tazar finished with a worry, looking around the room. “We don’t know if Jamelsh told the imperium about our series of safe houses.”

“We have dozens,” Althea said. “It’s lucky that we both ended up in this one.”

He offered her a small smile that pained his nose. “Not so much luck. It was simply the closest.”

“True, but if you’re right about Jamelsh spilling our secrets, this would be the first place the guardsmen would look. As they haven’t crashed in here yet, we may be safe.”

He clapped Althea on the shoulder, appreciating her practical cleverness.

But she wasn’t done, adding with a shrug, “Unless they’re waiting for more of us to gather before attacking.”

He groaned. Sometimes she was clever to a fault.

A frantic knocking silenced them. It echoed from the door to the alley. The rapped code was the correct one.

But what if Jamelsh had shared that, too?

He heard the door open, followed by muffled voices. Hurried footsteps led down the hall. Tazar drew his scimitar, heeding Althea’s warning, but it sounded like a lone visitor.

An older boy, too young for even a fuzz of beard, burst into the room. He was flushed and sweating. He hurriedly circled his left eye with a thumb and forefinger in the covert salute of the Shayn’ra. He searched the faces in the room.

“Tazar hy Maar?” he asked.

Tazar leaned toward Althea. “Do you know him?” he whispered.

She shook her head.

The burned man hobbled up. “That’s Bashaar’s son. From the fifth quarter’s contingent of the Fist.”

The boy bobbed his head, confirming this, while pointing to his own chest. “Illias,” he said, offering his name.

Satisfied, Tazar stepped closer. “What do you want, Illias? Why have you come rushing in here?”

The boy held forth a capped tube that dangled a few cords. It was a skrycrow’s harness. “I was told to give this to Tazar hy Maar.”

“Instructed by whom?” Althea asked.

Illias swallowed. “I don’t know. An outlander. He paid me a silver ha’eyrie to deliver it. He claims to be a friend of the Fist. He recovered a skrycrow message, one sent to the Razen Rose. Says Tazar needs to read it.”

Suspicious, he held out a palm. “I’m Tazar.”

The boy looked dubiously at him.

The burned man growled at Illias, “He’s not lying.”

Illias refused to step any closer, maybe because Tazar was still holding his scimitar. Still, the boy reached out and tossed the harness into Tazar’s palm.

Althea held off Tazar from reading it. “Illias, how did you know to come here? To this shelter?”

The boy shrugged. “The outlander told me that Tazar would be here.”

Althea glanced at Tazar with a pinched brow, then returned her attention to the boy. “Illias, what did this man look like?”

“Like most outlanders. Pale skin. But older with an ale-reddened nose.” He brushed back a fall of curls from his brow. “His hair was the color of dry straw.”

Althea turned to Tazar. “Do you know anyone like that?”