troubled to track down the boy the second time. So he hadn’t solved everything, since the boy was obviously destined to spend more time in Mastodon’s dungeon. But at least it wouldn’t be on Godren that he was there. Godren could not live with that. He had been kicking himself, tearing himself apart for it ever since following those cruel orders and fetching the boy back. And Seth had burned with the knowledge that it had been Ossen who set the boy free – with the ulterior motive of seeing Godren struggle with the orders to hunt him back down. Seth would not stand for that. It provoked him enough when Ossen jabbed at him , but when he started attacking Godren so fiercely…Seth had to let the blade fall, consequences or not. He felt mortally responsible for Godren, and he was not going to let Ossen contribute to locking the cage that was ever closing on his endangered friend. Ossen wasn’t worth wasting away for. He could not be given the pleasure of seeing his petty spitefulness eat Godren up.
But Godren had a lot on his plate – poisoned stuff that he was forcing himself to eat on his own. How long until he choked? Seth wondered. He was doing whatever he could to lighten the load on Godren’s shoulders. Ossen could play his scornful games, but Seth was serious. He was going to fight. He was going to topple those games like a destructive child. Unlike Godren, he did not mind deigning to that level to fight back.
10: Royal Affair
G odren felt like he was constantly squinting into the glaring sunlight. It had been too long since he’d been above ground and out of the smothering – and usually night-shadowed – alleys of the Ruins. In truth, it was the last assignment he had really expected from Mastodon, but he was so starved of daylight and cleanliness that he banished every ounce of the urge to question it. The assignment it self wasn’t so questionable, really. It was just the setting ; so open and bright and…exposed.
The assignment was to blend into the gathering that was to assemble in the town square, where the king would be addressing the people. Mastodon wanted to know if anything would be voiced in opposition to her, and Godren and Seth were there to listen in.
The blessed cleanliness came from the awkward fact that they would have quickly been matched to the memorized faces distributed to the people on their personalized Wanted posters, and so Mastodon had reluctantly dipped into a fraction of her stingy resources to clean them up and make them look presentable. More than presentable, actually, for they were both equipped with noble coats and good boots, primped and preened, and even had the good graces to smell nice.
“ Don’t get used to it,” Mastodon had warned. She saw no need to indulge them except on these rare occasions when it benefited her, and she made it very clear she would strip them of their finery and throw them back in with the pigs as soon as their assignment was complete. They would likely never catch wind of her horde of wealth again. She was all about her men earning every bit of their keep, and then they were welcome to keep themselves. Not exactly a hospitable employer, but she had to keep her men humble. It would not hurt them to keep roughing it like they always had. They had her as an ally, after all. That was plenty, the way she saw it. They were getting a fine deal.
“ I feel uncomfortable in all this nonsensical pizzazz,” Seth remarked, awkwardly shifting his light blue coat. He managed to straighten it, but didn’t manage to look any less awkward. “I never realized how comfortable our scraps of clothing actually were. Aside from being impractical in the cold, they actually agreed with me quite nicely.”
“ I never wore scraps,” Godren defended himself, eyeing the crowd around him. “Now stop fidgeting inside your clothes or that’s going to give us away right there.”
“ Then stop eyeing the crowd like you’ve