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Rodin sighed, and fought the urge to get the hell away from the house.
Mercenaries—agents, assassins, runners—were loners by nature. They might interact with others, but only when they had to. They weren’t team players.
Pulling so many of them together was a bad idea.
There weren’t as many as they’d expected, though. Both Rodin and Vanya had come across no-shows, and when they’d compared notes they’d discussed their suspicions—that too many mercenaries were replicated, working for two masters under different aliases. The expected fifty had shrunk to only thirty. And that was before some walked.
They said this wasn’t what they’d signed up for, that they wouldn’t join groups. Most said they’d return when it was quieter, and three gave a location where they might be foun
