Grog IV (The Ebon Blades Book 4) by RW Krpoun

of an encounter in a shoe shop. “Trouble,” she announced unnecessarily, and flipped off my shoulders. Burk hurried up as Provine Sael dropped back from her customary lead position. “We continue,” she announced. “Wouldn’t Torl be warning us to halt?” Pieter asked, nervously unslinging his shield. “Wrong tone,” the Dellian noted, and seeing the engineer’s look, clarified. “He has different signaling arrows. Each’s tone indicates a different warning.” “Dellian ears,” Hatcher muttered, earning her a look. “I’ll lead, mistress,” I picked up the pace. “You should stay back.” She frowned, but nodded. Hunter fell in beside me as we moved on. “I’ll do the talking, if talking is needed,” he advised, taking a swig from his flask. “Not to denigrate your skills as a conversationalist, but lying is a skill I’ve honed for a long time.” I grunted . A hundred yards further along the road curved south to avoid a big rock outcropping, and as it straightened we could see people up ahead clustered around a wagon that was loaded to over-flowing and brightly painted. As we approached I could see that the people up ahead were in two distinct groups: a dozen well-armed toughs, the sort of street scum that did unlawful things in the worse parts of a city, and were a bane to escorts. They looked a bit out of place, probably driven out into the countryside by Legion pressgangs. The other group went with the gaudy wagon: an old Man in loose robes gripping a quarterstaff, a lean young Man with dark hair a