Gorgoroth (Haladras #2)

TWENTY-FOUR

"You rescued Kendyl and you didn't tell me?" Skylar fought to keep the anger he felt from rising into his voice.

"What?" replied Endrick. "Did you think I would save you before her? I would have rescued Grüny before you if I knew where to find him. That Witless fellow didn't seem to know."

"How is she?"

Endrick's face grew somber, and he turned to stare at the dying glow of the cook fire. His face looked more lined and careworn than Skylar remembered. Perhaps it was just the shadows accentuating what had always been there.

"There's nothing physically wrong with her. Aside from that...well, it's difficult to know. She's quiet."

Skylar clenched his fists. If only he had not been such a fool and let Tanks escape...If only he hadn't trusted the smugglers in the first place...If only he had never come...

"How did you rescue her?"

"I'd rather not talk about it. It's not important. What's important is trying to figure out how to save Grüny."

"I think I know where he is."

Then he told him about General Karíknof and the feast to take place the following night. And his fear of what would happen to Grüny if they didn't rescue him in time.

"Do you think Wenna might know where to find this General Karíknof?" asked Skylar.

"There's only one way to find out. Go to bed and ask her in the morning."

* * *

As it turned out, Wenna knew where to find General Karíknof's estate. The General was well known to the people. His estate lay outside the city walls scarcely more than a league. One of Wenna's friends worked in a washhouse, which often handled the laundry from the General's estate. The washhouse women loved to gossip. As they took in everyone's dirty linens, they also took into everyone's dirty secrets. The General's estate was no exception to this rule.

That morning, Wenna took Skylar and Endrick to visit her friend at the washhouse. They had left Kendyl alone in Wenna's apartment. As much as it pained him to let her out of his sight, Skylar felt marginally better knowing she was off the streets. And Wenna would return to the apartment soon. Despite the fact that he knew practically nothing about who the old woman was-only that she was a Tor-he felt he could trust her. If Witum and this woman were proof, not all the Tors were as bloodthirsty and depraved as he believed. At least, he hoped his intuition about the woman was correct. He'd been painfully wrong too many times since their quest began. This old woman had voluntarily helped Endrick and Kendyl. Was that not sufficient evidence of her trustworthiness?

Kendyl. She was safe. It was yet to be seen if she was damaged. That morning, she had not spoken to him. For his part, he hadn't known what to say to her-if he should say anything to her. He wanted to say so much. Instead, he had just looked at her, trying to convey his multiplicity of feelings with his eyes. All her eyes had portrayed was sorrow. In some ways is had pained him tenfold more to see her than when she was still lost to him.

At the washhouse, Wenna's friend confirmed Skylar's intelligence about the General holding a feast that night. She knew nothing of Grüny, but suspected that if he was on the menu, the cook would ensure the meat was a fresh as possible.

"How fresh?" asked Skylar.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe an hour or two before." The rotund woman let out a deranged laugh. "Don't have much experience with it, myself."

"Do you know a good way to sneak into the General's house? Is it well guarded?"

The woman lifted the garment she was washing from her wash basin and inspected it. Her face, pot marked and reddened by the heat of the washhouse, wrinkled up in concentration. She turned the garment around before plunging it into the basin for further scrubbing.