6
While Kiera rested and healed, Rhys secured a room at the inn. Because Rhys wasn’t part of the private army being built by the ‘wealthy mercenary to the north’, he had to pay double. As the clerk handed him a key in exchange for the coin, he shifted his focus to stare directly into the older man’s pale eyes.
“How long has the mercenary been building his army?” Rhys asked.
“Over five summers. Only some soldiers stay here. The rest are in his camp.”
“How would I join them, if I chose to?”
The wispy strands of white hair on the clerk’s scalp trembled as the man’s nerves were plucked. Rhys needed to discover if that was due to being questioned by an outsider, or a spell that Baltura had cast over the townsfolk.
“There’s a tournament. Not a fight to the death, but where prospects intere
