“You made these?” he asked. “I didn’t know you could sew.”

Brug blustered, and his neck went red.

“That’s not the point,” he said. “With Tarlak’s help, there’s a bit of magic in them. They won’t wear out, but the bigger deal is they’ll be quieter than…forget it, no reason I should tell you. Find out on your own.”

He stormed for the door, stopping only when Haern called out for him.

“Miss you too, Brug.”

“Whatever,” Brug grumbled, but he hesitated before leaving. Once he was gone, Haern dressed, put on his soft leather armor, and prepared to leave. Delysia was waiting for him on the bottom floor, just beside the stairs.

“Stay safe,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Is that all you’re bringing?”

Haern glanced at his single outfit, his sabers, and the cloaks he carried in his hands.

“Yes?” he said.

The priestess laughed.

“Ever the poor boy,” she said. “Good luck, and make sure you come back.”

He bowed low.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise,” he said. “Keep Tarlak in line for me while I’m gone.”

Feeling uncomfortably exposed in the daylight, Haern traveled south to where Alyssa’s caravan waited. It was only three wagons, far smaller than he expected. Alyssa had told him she wished to leave with little fanfare in hopes the thief guilds would not find out. Turned out she wasn’t kidding. He found her sitting in the first wagon, with Zusa beside her. They both tilted their heads as he approached, and he realized without his hood, and under the bright sun, they could clearly see his face.

“Watcher?” Alyssa asked, as if to confirm just in case.

“Haern,” he said, standing before them. “That’ll do for now.”

Zusa offered her hand, and he took it.