Chapter 10: A Nighttime Stroll

The rustle and bustle of supper time woke Fenric from his slumber. Something of his headache still remained as a dull ache right behind his eyes, dissuading him from trying to pull a similar trick any time soon. It wasn’t anything that would hinder his plans, however. Well, not in their current form, at any rate. Plans could change. Often had to.

Supper proceeded as normal, except for the fact that Lord Anshelm and Maunhilt Housecarl weren’t present. Usually supper would begin on Lord Anshelm’s word, but in his absence, it began at Lady Gerthrud’s. She had left his chair alone, but otherwise stood in his stead. No-one at the long table took much notice of the empty chair – their Lord travelled often, so Fenric supposed the sight was a mundane one.

Fenric left the hall after supper, making sure to leave alongside a small group of young servants – men seeking dockside companionship, presumably. They were all younger than Fenric, but not so much so that his presence among them seemed remarkable. Fenric walked at the tail end of the group and answered only in single words when the youngsters tried to involve him in their conversation, leading them to make few such attempts. Once they left the Noble Quarter, Fenric took his leave of them. He explained nothing, but did bid them a good night – to disappear without a word would be more suspicious than acting as if he had nothing to hide.

“His highness has a girl in town,” he heard one boy remark to another in what must have been meant as a whisper, but was remarked with such enthusiasm that it made its way to Fenric’s ears nonetheless.

Fenric was not surprised to learn he had cultivated a reputation for arrogance – it had happened often enough before – but it dismayed him somewhat. It was a useful reputation, he told himself, as many of his oddities were safer being taken for the eccentricities of an arrogant man than mysteries to be solved. That didn’t make it pleasant to be interpreted thusly.

Still, useful. That was what mattered.

Fenric shook off the thought, pulled up his hood and surveyed his surroundings. In front of him lay the road to the midtown market, which his former companions would pass on their way to the docks. The road on his left led into an area mainly inhabited by artisans, while the one on his right led to the Silveck Temple. The biggest of the six bakeries in town was at the midtown market, while the second largest was located near the temple.

Turning left, Fenric found that the streets were not completely empty, but close to it. The sun would set within the hour and the streets would become too dark to walk without a torch. It would be best if Fenric could be back before then.

When Fenric arrived at the closed bakery, he walked past it and instead tried the door on the side of the house, which led to Inga Baker’s private room. At first there was no answer, but when Fenric knocked once more while projecting his name forcefully with his mind, the door soon slipped open a smidge.

The face that greeted him was not Inga Baker’s, but her daughters.

“Mom has gone to bed,” the girl whispered, staring at him with her big, brown eyes. “She said to ask why you’re here.”

“Is Guthrun here?” Fenric asked as his answer.

The girl shook her head.

“She left before supper.”

Fenric stopped himself from swearing. He couldn’t tell how old the Baker girl was, but he hardly wanted to make her more nervous than she already was.

“Then I suppose I must speak to your mother instead, if she would allow it?”

The girl looked around as if a spy was about to jump out of their hiding spot any minute now, then nodded and opened the door further.

“You’d better come in.”

Fenric snuck inside, relieved to be out of sight of passersby. As he closed the door behind him, the room turned dark.

“Mom, the man wants to talk to you,” the girl said and crawled into bed with her mother and a younger child.

Inga Baker rose with a sigh and threw a cloak over her shift.

"Is it Fenric?" she asked.

"It is."

“What do you want at this time?” she asked.

"The sorcerer at Cletzhem, the one they're looking for… is no longer at Cletzhem."

Inga Baker frowned.

"How do you…"

"That's what Gytha Jordis believes, at any rate. Meaning that she will be looking elsewhere for her prey."

Inga Baker tightened her cloak around her and bit her lip in thought. She was quiet for a few moments, then looked up at Fenric and said:

"Then coming here was a mistake. You've risked drawing attention both to yourself and to me. To the whole society, even."

Fenric shook his head.

"They'll be searching everywhere regardless. That's what I came to tell you: the society should cease meeting for a while."

Inga closed her eyes and breathed heavily as she took that in.

"Alright, I see your point. I don't know how to reach everyone without alerting the Gytha, but I'll bring the message to Master Guthrun…"

"Guthrun will know a way," Fenric reassured her.

"Cursed world," Inga muttered. "Why did some fool have to go rogue?"

Fenric shrugged.

"Maybe they didn't."

"How do you mean?"

"Maybe this sorcerer knows nothing of the societies… A lone wolf, so to speak."

The harsh features in Inga's face softened.

"A lonely one, rather."

Fenric nodded. It wasn't easy, being on your own with a secret like that.

“You better go,” Inga said. “I’ll let Guthrun know what you’ve told me – there’s no reason for you to take more risks, especially not now.”

Fenric frowned. He would have liked Guthrun’s advice, but he could not argue Inga’s point.

“Still… keep your ears open,” Inga said. “If you find out more, come to the bakery and buy half a rye bread. I’ll send my girl to get a written note from you afterwards.”

Fenric nodded. That would have to do.