Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER TWENTY

T onight was the night.

Darwish had everything carefully planned. For example, his intention to be carried off the field after lugging rocks around all day had worked. He'd collapsed, hand on his heart, and been carried off just as he wanted. There was no infirmary at Blackchurch because once someone was out, they were on their own. Blackchurch felt no responsibility toward any recruit. Therefore, they left him in the field as he lay there and feigned unconsciousness. The Leviathan himself even walked past a couple of times and never noticed him. Dusk fell, and he was alone.

Alone and inside the perimeter of Blackchurch so he could do as he pleased.

Now, he could get to work.

He'd been paying particular attention to the Leviathan. Rumor had it that he and the de Ghent girl were lovers, which made his mission both more difficult yet strangely easier. He knew the trainers were housed in the village of Eastmoor, so he assumed Athdara would be with him. All he had to do was find out which cottage was his. That was the easy part—locating her.

The more difficult part would be doing what he needed to do and not getting himself killed by that mountain of a man who had made his life as a recruit miserable. Darwish's fear was being caught by the Leviathan. But there had to be some point when Athdara would be by herself, and that was the moment he'd strike—perhaps she went to fetch water alone. Being out of the recruit class and presumably having left Blackchurch gave him the freedom to hide out and move freely.

It meant he could hunt.

And this was his first night of freedom. Dusk was closing in when he finally picked himself up off the field and made a dash in the coming darkness toward Eastmoor. Given that it was a full-fledged village, there were nooks and crannies, roads and alleys. There were places to hide. Sheds, coops, or any number of places. Some of the village was abandoned, or so it seemed, so perhaps he'd even be able to find an abandoned cottage to hide away in while he did his reconnaissance.

Tonight, he intended to roam the village and locate the Leviathan's cottage. Once he identified it, he could watch it. Since the trainers and other personnel lived in the village, there was a real danger of his being seen, but he had been a bounty hunter for many years. He was confident he could avoid capture if he were careful enough. Moreover, he was willing to risk it if it put the de Ghent girl in his hands.

Some things were worth the reward.

The village had two rows of cottages facing one another across a fairly wide avenue. It had once been a bustling village, so it was designed for hundreds of people in town on any given day. But that had been long ago, and the town, as some said, had many ghosts. People lived there, but it was devoid of life for the most part.

Darwish hadn't gathered his things yet, possessions he'd left in the cloisters. He'd collect them once he scouted out the village, because he didn't want any encumbrances weighing him down at the moment. He needed to move swiftly and quietly.

He'd just come in through the west side of the village, where there were old barns and a couple of old corrals, when he saw figures moving in darkness. Dutiful servants had lit torches in the main part of the village to provide some light for those who lived there, so he kept low to the ground as he made his way toward what seemed to be the village center. As he slipped in between a couple of cottages, he was rewarded with some activity.

People were filtering back to their homes after a day's work. He saw men he recognized and servants moving from cottage to cottage. The air began to smell like smoke as fires in the hearths were started. Tapers were being lit because he could see the light coming through some of the windows. In the distance, someone was laughing. Someone else shouted.

Men were settling in for the night.

As a recruit, he was more familiar with the trainers. They weren't hidden from him like they had been when he was a dreg. He saw a couple of the trainers return, including the Scotsman with a booming voice. Both disappeared into different cottages. Servants began moving around the cottages near the square, carrying buckets of water. It all seemed rather normal in appearance—until another figure walking toward the square caught his attention.

It was someone familiar.

Munro was heading down the road.

Darwish knew the man on sight because he'd just spent the past several days with him. He was enormous and imposing and walked with a kind of swaggering stride. Darwish ducked in behind some foliage that had been allowed to overgrow. He could see the Leviathan across the square, heading for a cottage that was rather large, with three stories to it. He entered the front door, and Darwish heard the panel slam shut.

That was what he'd been waiting for.

Now, he knew where the man lived. Where the Leviathan was, Athdara de Ghent wasn't far behind.

He had a cottage to stalk.