Free Pawn Of The Planewalker (Book 5) by Ron Collins Page A

scrutiny, Neuma and Quin Sar had entered the manor yard in the dark hours of early morning. They were simply dressed, merely two citizens come to the manor to barter with the blacksmiths, farmers, and tailors within.
    Now they stood in a gathering bidding on pigs.
    As hands raised and voices called prices, Neuma watched the guard lead Fil to the privy.
    With a sideways glance she saw Quin Sar’s eyes glitter and watched a smirk cross his face. That smirk gave Neuma an understanding of something important. Quin Sar hadn’t actually believed Fil would be able to get into position to cast his spell. He hadn’t thought the plan would work.
    Neuma’s mind spun.
    Quin Sar stood with a steely gaze. Only a few lines marked his cheeks and the corners of his eyes, and only a single brown age mark appeared on his jawline under his left ear, but he was older than his face let on. She had never considered Quin Sar’s story much. He was a given, Ettril’s second, his right hand—a man who had risen to his peak with careful application of loyalty. But this single expression brought her a new insight. If the superior’s second had considered Neuma’s plan a dog, why would he let it go forward without comment? Did Quin Sar have plans that she hadn’t taken into account?
    Her veins ran cold. Maybe she should consider alternate plans, maybe send Quin Sar in alone? No. It was too late to swap horses now. Quin Sar may have plans of his own, but Neuma would press on and play whatever angle she was given when the time came.
    This clarity calmed her nerves. She could handle anything as long as she had a plan.
    Their angle gave Neuma a good view of the stables, good enough to see the boy, Will, anyway.
    He was tall for his age, gangly. His body was mostly elbows and knees. He was assigned to the primary stable, and had gone into and out of the hay room several times with pitchforks full of straw. The boy was concerned for something, though. Neuma could tell it by the way his round-eyed gaze kept returning every few minutes to a specific window high up on the manor.
    Quin Sar noticed it, too.
    Neuma wanted to know what was in that room, but she couldn’t see into it well enough to get any ideas.
    In the distance, Fil left the privy.
    She looked immediately to the guards who had been seated just inside the stable. Both lay back, heads lolling against the wall in relaxed sleep.
    “Come on,” Neuma said, touching Quin Sar on the thigh, feeling the pressure of the wrist sheaths under the sleeves of her shirt. They stepped away from the gathering, and went to the stable.
    Now she was concerned only that Hirl-enat’s part went well.

    “Thank you,” Fil said to his escort. “I feel much better.”
    The guard proffered a plate of tuna and cheese. “I understand completely. If you would like, you can eat this as we walk.”
    “That would be excellent,” Fil replied.
    The truth was that Fil felt considerably more anxious now.
    The spell was cast. Now the rest of his role consisted of waiting and hoping he didn’t hear the excited exclamations that would mean the plan had failed, for if it failed, things would get difficult quickly.

    Daventry hated the idea of giving any Koradictine mage access to the kitchen, better yet a plate of tuna. But Ellesadil had been clear about how they were to greet these visitors. He mopped his forehead with a towel, glancing at the doorway the mage and his escorts had just disappeared through. The door still swung on its hinges. This mage was an odd one, as if any of them weren’t. But this one seemed to be particularly on edge. Understandable, he supposed. Walking into an adversary’s city had to be unnerving. But the mage’s gaze was like a water bug, never seeming to stay anywhere for long.
    He shook his head. It was not his problem.
    His problem had to do with these carrots that were laid out on the chopping table.
    “Caro!” he called, snapping out of his cloud of thought and turning to a young woman