Edmon and Kidu caught a carriage to the tavern at the northern district of town. It was the middle of the afternoon, far too early for supper, but patrons still filled half the tables for a few pints of the Fatted Poult’s house brews. They took a seat by the window where they could watch the comings and goings. A grey wolfhound that had been lying in the sun through a window got up and trotted over to them, then rested by Kidu’s feet.

The freckled, older barmaid approached them, holding a plate of bread and cheese. “Muddy’s never done that before,” she said. “He likes you.”

A hand gently touched her arm from behind and took the plate of bread and cheese from her and set it down on the table. “What can I get for you gentlemen? A mug of our Minotaur Mead? Or perhaps a bit of Moon Ale? I have that aging in a new cask.”

"I need your help, Batisse," Edmon said. "I need access into Isimil."

“Oh right to it then, eh?” Batisse sat on the bench beside Edmon. He scratched Muddy’s head. “You want to actually go into Isimil. Why would you want to do that?”

“If I am to be honest, to force an issue.”

“If you were honest, you’d say you intend to sow discord, but that’s none of my business. I take it the Yghrs did not hand you their armies.”

“They’re playing with loopholes,” Edmon said. “And I’ll have the Moon Ale.”

Batisse waved at the barmaid and mouthed the request. “And for you, my friend? SanKai monks prefer fortified wine, do you not? I have five year reds from Ian’s Vale. I’m sure your friend Edmon can afford the thirty year, if you asked.”

Kidu shook his head. “I’ve never touched it.”

Batisse held up two fingers to the barmaid. “These are not the days to forgo the drink. If you spend your life brokering information, you come to yearn for days where you can just be ignorant. Still, there is something you ought to know. The news will actually arrive to Banningtown tomorrow, but I will tell you now since you’re here. The Gildemanse has fallen.”

“How do you know this before the news arrive?”Kidu asked.

“Information is often like fish,” Batisse replied. “Cast with the right net, one can ensnare enough where you don’t have to go fishing for news for awhile. The news just…ensnares itself.”

"Batisse speaks of an old net of information agents," Edmon said. "Part of a guard that served under the last Aredunian king."

“Padrig the Black?”

"I was part of that old net," Batisse nodded, breaking off a piece of cheese. "We were called the Silent Guard, but we haven't served the crown since the passing of Padrig the Black. We don't do the king's work anymore, but there are still enough of us paying attention to what's going on around us. And we have the means to swiftly communicate with each other."

"And what became of Padrig the Gold?" Edmon asked.

"Alive, for now," Batisse said. "The boy king and the queen mother were able to flee to Vilholmer. There was no one at the Gildemanse to defend it. The Winged Spears had been sent to the far west to reclaim New Hearth. I care only about the facts, but if I were to conject, I’d say this was by plan. The invaders must have come through the Cleave to arrive at the Gildemanse undetected.”

“No army has snuck through the Cleave before,” Edmon rubbed his chin. He took a piece of cheese, looked at it, then put it back down. “This news will cause turmoil in Aredun.”

“Not until tomorrow,” Batisse said. “The entire country will be in disarray. The governors will forgo all sense of duty and begin their land grab. It will be nasty.”

"The queen mother and her son should find some solace for the time being at Vilholmer," Edmon said. "Helena's birth home still has those loyal to Padrig."

The barmaid set two mugs of ale on the table. “Thanks, love,” Batisse said to her as she winked and walked away. He slid one to Edmon and took a sip of the other. “It’s a bit bitter. The key to running a tavern begins with good ale. And having staff that’s just as good. Anrietta’s the mother of one of my men. I promised him once that I’d take good care of his mother when he was about to move on to the next life. Every person in this tavern is loyal and connected to me. We’re a family,”

“Your talents could be of a great help to us," Kidu said. “Why do you masquerade as a tavern owner?”

"It's not a masquerade, it's what I am now," Batisse answered. "The Fatted Poult affords me to be in the middle of the busiest city in the country. Banningtown is the crossroads for every trade route, and it allows me to continue to gather information. I can still help Singis, when she wants it.”

"She's gone west to the Sea of Ruin,” Edmon said. “There's no telling when she'll be back. The Grey Herald willed it.”

Batisse chewed on a piece of bread before taking another sip. “I know that too. Every time she departs, there is never a telling of when she’ll come back. That’s my reality now. But if the Grey Herald willed it, that’s the voice she listens to now.”

"When we were in Rain-Mapalthas, we spoke to a Soothsayer," Kidu said. “A foreign woman, she didn’t look or sound like the others. She lived in a village at the top of the the mountain. She told Singis about someone, someone who had a mark, named Hirodias. And Menquist seemed to react in a way as if they both knew how important this person was. That’s where she went, to find this person.”

Batisse sighed. “That’s the blacksmith. He escaped with several others from the fighting pits in Isimil. They led a bloody revolt that ended with way too many dead on both sides. They hid here and worked as blacksmiths, until I found them for her. My driver Remy took them to Old Menathinion. Sounds like this person had a greater value than Singis realized, else she wouldn’t have let them go. I am curious to how this Soothsayer knows this.”

“Singis said we shouldn't trust her, that she was probably part of a group called the Brotherhood of Silver and Glass,” Kidu added. “She did seem to know things no one else would know, similar to you. What do you know about the Brotherhood?"

"I have spent many years in my profession," Batisse said. “My duty was to gain information. Singis was obsessed with the Brotherhood. I know the Brotherhood does not exist because I know more than her, and although I spent time looking for them on her behalf, they have never proven to be more than rumor. Her infatuation keeps the rumor alive.”

“She would not let infatuation rule her senses,” Edmon said. “She is one of the more logical minds I know.”

“The patterns she sees, and every thread, every outcome resolved…these are what possesses her, Lord Edmon,” Batisse said.

"You seem close to her," Kidu noted. "How did you two begin to know each other?"

Edmon's eyes darted at Batisse's, studying his reaction. Batisse's own eyes were on the table. His eyes moved side to side, as if reading invisible text.

"We are close," he said, "but there was a time when we were…closer. We worked together. She was in service to the Yghrs, and my king had just died, but I was still in command of the Silent Guard. So I went into service for myself. We benefited from each other. I spent years in the Smote living among the Yghrs. We were happy in each other's company."

"Then what happened?"

"She arrested me," Batisse said, looking at Muddy, who was fast asleep against Kidu’s feet. “When you break dogs you have to be cruel. When you train a broken dog to go against his own master, well, that requires a different kind of cruelty. A kind she did not appreciate, and saw me fit to pay for such crimes. You need to get into Isimil, yes?”

"Can you help?" Edmon asked, glad to have the subject changed.

"Normally yes," Batisse nodded. "There are unwatched passageways into the Smote, but with your walking condition it makes it difficult. With you two it will be like sneaking two pots of water into the desert."

Batisse looked out the window at the fast moving clouds. It looked like rain was coming. "Perhaps that is exactly what we will do. We will flood the Smote so the two pots will go unnoticed. When the news of the Gildemanse arrives tomorrow, there will first be great concern. I will make sure the concern turns into a panic. Many will flee the city, thinking Banningtown is next. I'll see to it that they flee into the Smote. That's how you will enter, as Aredunian refugees. But I warn you now, there will be those who will take advantage of this confusion. That will be beyond my control. Just be wary of any caravans bearing only the young and the strong. You do not want to be on those caravans."