Messenger’s Legacy by Peter V. Brett

been trying for years to discover who took the Offering each week. It had become something of a game between them. The Tender had put bells on the doors and windows, but had yet to realize his weekly visitor was using the horn tower at the centre of the peaked roof.
    Mudboy paused, looking out over Bogton. The many cottages of the town were dark, but it was a clear night, and in the light of the moon he could see far, all the way to Masen Bales’ farm. The old man still owed his family eight shells for Maybell, and Mudboy took it in milk once a week. It wasn’t stealing, really, and was a chance for a glimpse of Tami. She got prettier every year. Boys had already come to court, but that was all for now. He could still watch her sometimes, and dream of what could have been.
    With a sigh he slipped through the tower door and padded quietly down the steps. His shoes were mismatched, but they fitted well enough, worn and softened with use. There was not so much as a whisper as he passed through the vestry and into the nave.
    The lamp at the head of the altar was always burning at night, a guide like those in the yard to those in need of succour. The light struck the altar table and pulpit, casting long, deep shadows for Mudboy to follow to his prize. He kept his eyes on the choir loft where the Tender liked to hide, but there was no sound or sign of movement. The Tender drank ale while he waited, and was usually fast asleep this late.
    He lifted the pewter mug first, thumbing open the lid and drinking deeply, letting the bubbles tickle his throat and the alcohol soothe the pain of the night’s encounter. Then he reached for the bread tray.
    There was a ringing as he lifted the lid. The Tender had affixed a bell underneath, where it could not be seen.
    Mudboy’s eyes flicked to the choir loft. Nothing. The shadows were just a few feet away. If he was quick …
    But then the vestry door slammed open, revealing Tender Heath, a look of triumph on his round red face.
    They stood frozen for a moment, the Tender’s eyes widening from victory to shock.
    ‘Briar?’



5
A Last Run
333 AR Autumn
    R agen rapped on the side of his carriage and Robbert, the guard riding outside, leaned down in his saddle. ‘What’s the hold up?’
    Robbert sat high, looking out over the traffic clogging the streets of Miln. He shrugged. ‘Messenger day. Must be some news from the south causing a fuss.’
    Ragen hated the carriage. Time was, he would be the one out in the saddle, escorting carriages.
    Now I’m the cargo
, he mused, looking to the growing belly under his robes. He was fit for fifty-two, but he was nothing like he had once been.
    He had prospered beyond his wildest dreams in partnership with Cob, and when the cancer took his friend and mentor, he had taken over the Warder’s Guild in a landslide. Worried once about his future on retirement, now he was one of the richest and most powerful Merchants in the city.
    At last they made it back to Cob’s shop.
    Cob’s shop
. It was legally his now, and Elissa had run it for years, but it was still Cob’s shop in his mind, and he had never changed the sign out front stating as much.
    Elissa looked up at the ringing of the door’s bell, her face brightening into a smile that washed away his melancholy. A Mother now, she could have done anything with her life after she graduated the Mother’s School and had her peerage restored.
    After years of ignoring them in favour of her sisters, Elissa’s widowed mother, Countess Tresha, had begun paying calls again. She wanted Elissa to follow her into politics, and had been stunned when Elissa refused in favour of running the warding business with Ragen.
    Seeing the shop empty, Ragen flipped the sign on the door to ‘Closed’ and went to his wife. He was about to step behind the counter and take her into his arms when there was a pounding at the door. He turned just as it burst open and Derek Gold appeared, looking haggard and out of breath. He