The tavern's narrow staircase creaked under their hurried steps.
"They won't touch him. He's a lord," Anastas snapped, not looking back.
Revealing their true standing to the first person they met was foolish. This suspicious rogue, who knew the city well, could easily sell that information. But right now, Anastas couldn't think straight. Those words were meant less for Eist and more for himself, in an attempt to find calm.
"A lord?" Eist chuckled softly. "In this city, a title without an entourage is worth no more than a dead rat in the Thames. Besides..." The mercenary swept an appraising gaze over his figure. "I didn't exactly notice any family signet rings with coats of arms on your fingers. Not on yours, and not on our missing boy's. You look more like runaways."
"It's around his neck," Anastas gritted out.
Eist's eyebrows shot up, and a slow, enigmatic smile appeared on his lips.
"Well, well..." he drawled in a velvet tone. "More and more secrets with you two, I see. Lords hiding in plain sight as simple travelers."
Anastas answered him with a dark, heavy stare.
Eist was definitely enjoying his new company.
The streets grew wider, and the roar of the crowd grew louder. The stench of sweaty bodies and cheap ale, mingled with the smell of food, hit their nostrils. The silhouettes of the Covent Garden market stalls began to emerge.
Anastas stopped at the edge of the square, breathing heavily. His eyes darted feverishly through the crowd, searching for a familiar fair head or cloak.
They began to push their way through the throng. Anastas went straight through, shoving passersby aside. Every step took an immense effort. Someone was bound to jostle his wounded shoulder.
They stopped near a stall selling dried meat. A heavy-set merchant was arguing with a customer. Anastas stepped right up to him.
"A fair-haired youth in a blue cloak. He was here less than an hour ago. Which way did he go?"
"T-there was such a lad!" the merchant stammered, looking up at the men and instantly realizing it was best not to toy with them. "He took some ham and cheese! And then... then I saw him run!"
Anastas grabbed the fabric of his shirt.
"Where?!"
"There, into the alley!"
The merchant pointed toward a crooked gap between the tall stone buildings.
Anastas released the butcher and bolted in that direction. Eist slipped in right behind him.
They burst into the narrow street. It was dark, damp, and filthy here. Foul sludge squelched beneath their boots, and the air smelled of rot.
Anastas breathed heavily, looking around. A dead end. Nothing but a couple of broken barrels and garbage.
"Thomas!" he called out hoarsely.
Eist took a few steps deeper into the alley, and suddenly, something scraped faintly beneath the sole of his boot.
He froze and slowly moved his foot away. In the mud, among the scraps of refuse, something gleamed dully, catching a meager ray of light breaking through from above. The man squatted down, pinching the object with two fingers. At first, it looked like a mere smooth stone, but when he wiped away the caked mud with his thumb, the find flashed with gold. It was a massive signet ring attached to a fragment of a torn chain.
Eist stood up. He turned the ring over in his hands, examining the fine engraving, and then turned a serious gaze upon Anastas.
"This one?" he asked curtly, holding it out on an open palm.
Anastas turned sharply. His gaze fell upon the piece of gold.
"Damn it..." Anastas hissed in despair.
For a fraction of a second, the faces of the dead Athit and Jihua flashed before his eyes.
Not again. Gods, please, not again.
"They wouldn't cut him down here. They need him alive."
In the next instant, the thrill of a predator catching a scent of blood ignited in Eist's eyes.
"Follow me!" he barked, already tearing down the street.
Anastas lunged after the mercenary.