Benedict’s visit with Stab lasted until a faint hint of light colored the horizon. Amalyn waved him inside as he strode up to her. His only response to her was a yawn. Inside, Shiyo lay on a bed of hay, in a level of sleep Benedict felt an undue amount of jealousy for. Dawn approached, meaning any attempt at sleep was going to be worthless, but he still found a pile of hay to lay in.

  Less than a half hour passed before the local roosters started screaming. Benedict sat up with the most annoyed groan he could muster while drawing a stamina potion from his coffer. A poor substitute for sleep, but it would have to do for the moment. Godwik woke at the same time and walked over to their fire carrying a box of food.

  “There’s something dark in this city,” Shiyo said as she stood next to Benedict.

  “There is,” Benedict agreed.

  “Kirion isn’t back yet?” Ordra asked.

  Amalyn sat next to the newly lit fire. “Not yet.”

  “If he’s in trouble now, this won’t do any of us good,” Binner said.

  “He’s more resourceful than that.” Amalyn didn’t sound fully convinced.

  “We’ll discuss next steps after breakfast,” Godwik said. “We all need it after the night we’ve had.”

  “No kidding.” Benedict felt the effects of the stamina potion not quite compensate for his lack of sleep.

  A breakfast of lukewarm meat and raw fruit did enough, despite the bland taste. Halfway through that bland meal, Kirion arrived, downing a stamina potion as he strode into the barn. He said nothing as he grabbed a fork and shoved multiple servings into his mouth like he hadn’t had a meal in weeks. Amalyn handed him a canteen, and he greedily downed all of it.

  “Bad night?” Amalyn asked.

  “That was the worst scouting mission I’ve ever been on,” Kirion complained.

  “Sit and tell us about it,” Ordra said.

  “We were about to discuss our findings, anyway,” Benedict said.

  Kirion sat on the floor and took more food. “I don’t think you can match what I found but go ahead. I need food.”

  “There’s a man named Stab in the residential area near the farms,” Benedict began, “and he has been trying to solve a particular mystery that’s been plaguing parts of this city. Apparently, women are going missing, including Stab’s very daughter.” He spread a map onto the ground. Red ink surrounded the areas where the kidnappings happened. “You’ll notice the market Celica disappeared from is marked here.”

  “Did this Stab tell you who is committing these kidnappings?” Godwik asked.

  “I’m afraid he doesn’t know, as of yet. All he has are names of the victims. Shiyo, what did you find?”

  Shiyo took a deep breath. “This makes more sense now. I infiltrated the guard barracks and found a parchment listing certain places that investigations would not happen. I found one of these and discovered a brothel. I couldn’t get inside, but I saw a wagon come, and two men stepped out, escorting a small person hidden in a cloak.”

  “How did you get into the barracks?” Kirion asked.

  “I have my secrets, just like you. What did you find?”

  “I found our primary culprit: the Ashen Choir.”

  Ordra and Amalyn both gasped, and the porters started shaking. Benedict stayed quiet.

  “I presume our new friends don’t know of the Ashen Choir,” Ordra said. “Not surprising, honestly.”

  “Then tell us,” Shiyo said.

  Kirion grimaced as he spoke. “They’re almost inhuman. What began as a loose coalition of thieves, slavers, and assassins turned into a massive underground group that only serves the darkest impulses of human nature. Worse is that it’s so widespread and secretive that only the highest ranked members know how many cells they have.”

  “You know a lot about them,” Godwik said.

  Kirion removed the glove from his left arm, then the wrapping underneath, revealing a tattoo of a person in black robes holding a dagger. A scar ran through it.

  “I was once part of them, to my shame. It’s how I do so well at finding secrets. The scar was done before they attempted to execute me for my betrayal. The Choir’s rule is that we never kill one of our own, so scarring the tattoo absolves them of that rule. Had Ordra and Amalyn not been there, I would have died.”

  Binner looked at the party. “You trusted him being a part of something like that?”

  “I took a chance on his redemption,” Ordra said. “Given how good a man Kirion is, I made the right choice. So did Amalyn.”

  “How do you know it’s the Ashen Choir?” Benedict asked.

  “I saw two of them greet each other,” Kirion replied. “Standard practice is to show your tattoos to each other. It’s simple confirmation that you’re part of the Choir and loyal.”

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  “While this information is interesting, it doesn’t tell us where Celica might be, if she even was kidnapped,” Godwik complained.

  “Yet that brothel might be a key,” Benedict said.

  “Thinking we could follow a wagon?” Ordra asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “The Choir has taken many women for unsavory brothels,” Kirion said. “Shiyo, could you tell me where that brothel is?”

  “I’m not sure you’d make it there yourself,” Shiyo replied. “Trust me on this.”

  “You underestimate me, ma’am.”

  They continued going over new strategies. Benedict started planning a new route through the city through the areas where the women had gone missing. Someone around there must be willing to talk to him as long as it would get a daughter or a wife back.

  A bird call caught everyone’s attention. Godwik ran out of the barn for a moment, then came back holding a messenger bird. It was as big as a hawk, with a long, thin beak like a raven’s. Around its body, attached via a harness, was a small pack with a pair of messenger coffers. A hood lay across its head with a small device on top.

  “How did you get it to come here?” Shiyo asked.

  “We’ve got a system,” Binner said. “Our birds home in on specific frequencies.”

  Godwik explained the rest as he removed the small coffers. “We have a machine on the wagon that puts out the correct frequency. The hood is the aid that helps him navigate when the signal is weak. We’re hesitant about giving the system out at this point.”

  “Understandable,” Benedict said.

  “This one is for you.” Godwik handed Benedict a coffer.

  While the one Benedict wore on his hip was the size of a large wallet, the ones built for messenger birds were much smaller. Benedict would liken it to an extended pistol magazine in size and general shape. He drew the items out one by one.

  The first item he drew out was something Benedict didn’t think he would have in Phynel. His fingers slid into the grooves of a carved pistol grip. The wooden foregrip contained more grooves along the sides, in addition to a small vertical grip exactly where it was most comfortable. He nestled the buttstock into his shoulder, where it was instantly comfortable. Three other coffers the size of small boxes, themselves slightly smaller than the coffer they came out of, came next, followed by the wand Celica had used to make the bullets.

  A single page of parchment within read: “This is your weapon. If you need it to rescue our Celica, do so without hesitation. We have tested its sights out to fifty paces. The coffers each hold a hundred projectiles. Feel free to make more if you need to.”

  “Thanks, Baden,” Benedict said.

  He brought the sights up to his eyeline and aimed at the barn’s broken ceiling. It was a simple arrangement, as he and Celica had discussed, and easy to tell where his shots were going to land. His heart fluttered with excitement to try it. There must be some rocks nearby he could blast apart.

  “What is that?” Godwik asked.

  “A weapon I designed with Celica. It uses fire and wind magic combined to accelerate a metal projectile much farther and faster than any arrow or bolt. It’ll be good to have when I head back out.”

  “Which isn’t going to be today,” Ordra said as he stood.

  “You three need rest,” Amalyn said. “Get it while Ordra and I do our own investigation. I’m sure Godwik and Binner can keep an eye out.”

  “We are plenty rested,” Benedict protested through a yawn.

  “Very convincing,” Shiyo said.

  Binner brought everyone blankets. “Stamina potions don’t replace sleep.”

  “Fine, just don’t get hurt out there,” Kirion said.

  As Amalyn walked past Kirion, she patted him on the head like a puppy. Shiyo released a watchdog and told it to patrol the area around the barn. Benedict simply placed everything into the coffer on his hip. Whether it was the stamina potion or the excitement of trying his new rifle, Benedict had trouble finding comfort until he just crashed into sleep.

  Whether it was hours later or minutes when the watchdog’s howl woke him, Benedict couldn’t have said. He felt rested enough, though he was sure he could have used more. The second howl prompted him to bolt to his feet and draw his rifle and ready it. Again, it naturally fit into his shoulder, and the magazine slipped easily into its slot just in front of the trigger.

  Shiyo’s watchdog howled a third time, followed by the horse outside whinnying and stomping its feet. Godwik and Binner stood in front of their makeshift fireplace with Shiyo. Everyone held a weapon, with the porters holding improvised spears. Benedict stood by Kirion.

  Outside stood a man dressed all in black. A hood hid his hair, and a mask the bottom half of his face. In one hand, he held a long knife, then a spell rod in the other. Behind him, in similar dress, two others stood with larger bows. Dirt fell from the roof, revealing three others standing on the barn’s roof, daggers ready as they stared at the group through the large hole. The were probably more outside, Benedict would guess.

  “The Ashen Choir, I presume?” Benedict whispered to Kirion.

  “Like as not,” Kirion murmured.

  The leader twirled flourished his blade and locked eyes with Benedict. “The big guy and the blonde aren’t here.”

  “What is it you want?” Shiyo shouted.

  “You—all your party and the porters—will leave Rahma by tomorrow morning.”

  “You think two of us are gone, but there are three,” Kirion said.

  Benedict tried to put all the intimidation into his voice he could. “We came to get the sixth in our party. We aren’t leaving without her.”

  Despite the mask, Benedict saw the man smirk. “How unfortunate.”

  “We could talk about this.”

  “The only talk I’ll hear is your acceptance of our offer.”

  The Choir members on the roof continued staring down at them, weapons twitching. If Benedict could fire quickly enough, he might hit one of them.

  “It’s about to get loud in here,” he warned.

  “What do you mean?” Godwik asked.

  The leader snapped his fingers, and all three on the roof dove through the hole. Everyone dodged away as they landed. Blades flashed and fists flew as they went for the porters first. Benedict blocked a blade with the barrel of his rifle while Shiyo and Kirion blocked others.

  Benedict kicked his opponent in the stomach. The assassin stumbled back just far enough for Benedict to level hie rifle. At such short range, he shouldn’t need to aim. A single squeeze of the trigger—with a lighter pull than any other double action trigger he had ever tried—brought the hammer back, then slammed it down. Fire and wind converged to force the bullet through and out of the barrel, its exit making a mighty crack that echoed through the barn. Fire, wind, and metal blasted out of the barrel twice more, and the assassin fell backward. Everyone turned briefly toward Benedict.

  Benedict swung his rifle toward another assassin, still staring at him like he had set off a storm inside the barn. Kirion held him up by his neck with one hand while the other held the dagger at bay. Benedict fired thrice again, and the assassin relaxed in Kirion’s grip. Shiyo finished off the last one in the room. Before he could pivot back to the Choir outside, an arrow whistled past Benedict’s head and thunked harmlessly into the ground beyond him. Kirion loosed an arrow while Benedict fired his rifle, and the archers scattered.

  “Go home and we can pretend this never happened!” Benedict shouted.

  The Choir’s leader grimaced and raised his spell rod. “That will never happen!”

  An arrow streaked through the air and speared the rod. It flew out of the assassin’s hand while Benedict fired a single bullet into his shoulder. He whistled a specific tune, and smoke swirled around him. Benedict held his fire while Kirion loosed arrow after arrow into the smoke. When it cleared, the Choir had disappeared.