had a deep rural Frelish accent. “I was told to say: the armies are marching on Palais in six days. They have left ruin in every city so far, and have been sending as many citizens as they can to the Kaban coast for the slave trade.” He glanced around. “Does this have anything to do with—” The man stopped as he noted the panicked expression spreading among the others, and then he remembered the rules. To get paid the handsome sum they’d been promised, they were all to report and ask no questions. Asking a single question could forfeit their reward.
“Next,” said the Red Hood. “Are we certain they will be defeated by our new forces before they march on Palais?”
“Yes,” replied the next man over. He was young and short, with long, shaggy hair. “I’m told the royal family and the King’s-Men will seize power back from the parliament once attacked, and then our forces will arrive from the northern coast to provide them assistance. We have the numbers and the equipment needed.”
“Excellent.” The Red Hood thought for a moment. “What of the south?”
The third man, sounding much like a professor, continued the report. “The southern kingdoms are squabbling as expected, and allowed us to make deeper inroads thanks to their insecurity. We’ve solidified our hold in almost all of them.”
“Almost?” said the Red Hood, tensing.
The professor swallowed hard, glancing at his unnamed colleagues. “There are some issues in Karupto. We are addressing them. There are two King’s-Men who protect Queen Sarah from our influence.”
“So kill them,” quipped the Red Hood. “I mean, I do not see the problem.” He rolled his eyes, realizing there was no point in giving such an order to the messenger, as his role was to communicate one way.
“I’m told we’ve tried. These two were apparently part of something called the Pieman’s Trust.” Despite his years of experience working for other nefarious people, his hands shook as he stood, waiting for the Red Hood’s reaction.
“I’ll need to report this,” the Red Hood said ominously. He jotted down a couple of encrypted words in his well-worn notebook.
There was a knock at the door.
“We’re almost out of time,” he said, confirming with his pocket watch. “Where are we with the Skyfallers?”
“Why don’t you take your hood off?” asked the man due to report. He was a thuggish, bald man with several small scars on his face and hands. “And why are we all new? I can see it in all of them. What’s going on?”
All of the others dropped their gazes, trying to hide from the Red Hood’s attention.
The sinister expression that spread across the Red Hood’s face immediately chilled the room. “What is your name?”
The thug glanced at the others. “Randy.”
“I’ll answer your questions in a moment, but first I ask that we close out this last piece of business. We must strictly adhere to process at meetings like this.”
Randy quickly moved his gaze to everyone and then back to the host. No one else was willing to say a thing. Straightening up, he nodded in acceptance. “They’re preparing a demonstration for the stubborn royals of Myke and some place called Bodear. I was told that the Pieman has a secret thing in Bodear.”
“My mistress will be pleased to hear that.”
The door opened and a man stared squarely at the Red Hood. He wore a red jacket with two black leather straps crisscrossing over it, and two pistols attached to it on the front and on the back. He had a long moustache and shoulder-length, dark hair that gave him a dashing, enforcer look. “Are we done? The music will end in two minutes,” he said insistently.
“Yes, Mister Jenny,” said the hooded figure, putting his notebook away under his cloak, “we have concluded.”
Randy was annoyed. “I thought you said—”
In a blinding flash, the enforcer gunned down all the men except the Red Hood. He made sure that each of the messengers were no