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"Sir Rain, as someone who has purchased my services before, you should know there are limits to what I will share," Marcel said, his voice growing several times colder than anyone present had ever heard it before.

"Our time tonight is already limited. You have a decision to make.

You are most welcome to accompany us, and if you wish to bring your men along, I can provide a driver for their wagon. "

"After all, in my line of work, driving wagons at night is a rather essential skill," he said with a pointed look between Sir Rain and Sir Hugo as he emphasized the phrase ’in my line of work.’ "Of course, I have a few other skills that are useful in the dark of night as well," he said with a slight smile as his noble fingers pulled back his cloak to reveal a number of knives tucked into his belt.

Ever since Owain had sent his closest underlings to purchase Nightweaver Venom and hire an assassin to poison the people Owain wanted to see suffer a fate worse than death, both men had lost any right to claim that they were knightly or virtuous men.

Marcel had made it very clear to both men that, so long as they purchased his services, he expected them and their liege lord to look the other way when he conducted his business.

They could be knightly upholders of justice and the king’s law, or they could make deals with the underworld, purchasing demonic poisons and hiring assassins, but Marcel wouldn’t allow them to do both, at least as far as he was concerned.

"I’m sure that Mister Marcel is quite capable of guiding us tonight," Hugo said, quickly stepping in between Sir Rain and the man who represented the legendary ’Black Merchant.

’ "And his offer of a driver for our wagon and the soldiers is quite welcome, isn’t it Sir Rain," he said as he stepped lightly on the other man’s foot.

For a moment, it looked like the portly knight intended to keep arguing but when he looked down at the slender bastard who seemed to have suddenly grown a spine he saw a subtle shake of the man’s head and a look on his face that said he’d thought of something that Sir Rain might not have.

If Lord Owain was here, Sir Rain was certain that he would have understood the subtle hint but he had always favored being more direct. Yet, as much as he wanted to argue, doing it in front of Marcel and the Guild Masters seemed like a poor choice.

"I’ll tell my men to prepare themselves," he said, turning to leave the room before pausing at the doorway. "I assume that I have enough time to ready the men? I’m not going to come back to find that you’ve slipped away in the darkness am I?"

"Perish the thought," Marcel said with a sweet smile. "We’ll even have Sir Hugo with us, so he can cause a commotion if we try anything underhanded or sneaky. You shouldn’t worry though," Marcell added.

"After all, didn’t I come to tell you directly that we were leaving and invite you to come along? If I wanted to spirit these two away without you knowing or following, there are much better ways to come collect them than to do it while you’re all eating together," the merchant said.

"You have a point," Sir Rain acknowledged reluctantly, letting go of a portion of his paranoia when he realized that, for all of the shady business that he conducted, Marcel really was keeping everything in the open with them. "In that case, it will only be a few minutes while I gather the men."

Isabell and Tiernan shared a brief, worried look but with Hugo Hanrahan remaining with them, neither Guild Master felt free to speak.

Instead, they waited impatiently while Sir Rain gathered their escort and assembled the men outside the inn where they had ostensibly been planning to stay the night.

The tense silence that grew between them persisted, not just until they reached Marcel’s comfortable carriage that glowed with the light of several lanterns hanging from hooks at the front and rear of the carriage, but for the duration of the ride as well.

Hugo had made one, brief attempt at small talk in the carriage, but Isabell and Tiernan both became so incredibly tight lipped about their destination or the purpose of their late night excursion that he quickly gave up any hope of getting answers out of the pair of Guild Masters.

Marcel himself occupied the driver’s seat outside the carriage, leaving Isabell and Tiernan staring awkwardly at Hugo and Rain for several hours as the carriage trundled along the ancient road, followed closely by a wagon filled with soldiers and driven by one of Marcel’s men.

The ride was so monotonous that Isabell had begun to doze off as the countryside rolled by in the dark outside the windows until the sounds of horses whinnying and the carriage pulling to a sudden stop jolted her awake.

Moments later, someone pounded on the door of the carriage before throwing the latch and yanking the door open to reveal a man in a strangely patterned gambeson looking harried and breathless.

"My lords and lady, brave knights," the man panted with a look of immense relief on his face when he seemed to recognize one of the carriage’s occupants.

"You have to stop!" the strange man said, focusing all of his attention on Sir Rain.

"You’re heading into a trap and," he started to say before going suddenly stiff as his eyes rolled back in his head and his body slumped forward, revealing the disappointed looking figure of Marcel standing over the man while holding a heavy leather sap in one hand.

"Oh, Darragh," the merchant said, shaking his head while the occupants of the carriage stared at him in shock. "Of all the nights to show your true colors, you had to choose this one. And you held it in so well," he said, as though he was witnessing something deeply tragic.

"You could have become quite the asset if you’d demonstrated an ability to hold it in even longer," the merchant mused to himself, seemingly ignoring the occupants of the carriage as he addressed the fallen man that he clearly knew well enough to recognize on sight, even in the dark of night.

"But then, I suppose you would have needed to learn how to let it go before you could have been put to use. I don’t suppose you’ll get another chance," he said as he pulled a length of leather cord from a pouch at his waist and began to lash the fallen man’s wrists together.

"But then, whatever happens to you next really isn’t up to me, now is it? "