Kerrick dismounted and examined the duct. Boot prints both coming and going marked the mud near the water. The bushes had been pruned back just enough to let a man pass without brushing against them. Someone had used this exit quite recently. Probably to go inside the city, since Kerrick didn’t sense anyone nearby.

The vegetation reached inside the duct so Kerrick led Hux away and tied him to a tree. Then he made a torch and returned. Cringing at the smell, he entered and explored the tunnel, hunching over so he didn’t hit his head.

The greenery stopped when the light from the opening faded into blackness. The pull from the forest increased with each step, but he pushed as deep as possible. He found a wagon, which confirmed his suspicions.

Smugglers were using this passage to bring in black-market goods. No surprise, considering all forms of entertainment were illegal in Chinska Mare. Kerrick imagined the smugglers earned a large profit due to the danger.

He retreated to where he’d left Hux, mulling over his discovery. The smugglers wouldn’t be happy that their secret entrance was known. The empty wagon meant no one was inside the city at the moment, or else they’d have taken the wagon to deliver the goods. Not much Kerrick could do at this point. He’d keep alert for intruders and hope the smugglers didn’t return anytime soon.

To pass the time, Kerrick trained Hux. Or rather, he tried. His father’s stable master had worked with their horses, but Kerrick hadn’t been interested in that trade. Kerrick used positive reinforcement and repetition, hoping for the best.

On the third day of his vigil, the forest pulsed with unease. Irritants had intruded, leaving the main path and heading this way. Kerrick counted five. Three men and two women. He led Hux farther away, then sought a strategic position to watch them.

Crashing through the underbrush, one of the men cursed. “I’m bringing my machete next time,” he growled.

“Good idea, Jack, and why don’t you invite a priest along, too. Save us all some time,” another man groused.

“Shut up, Sylas,” Jack said.

The smugglers each carried a barrel probably full of alcohol. Short swords hung from their belts and each had a dagger tucked on the opposite side. They aimed for the tunnel.

“Ugh. It stinks,” one of the women said. “I thought the ducts were no longer in use.”

“They ain’t, princess. This is just runoff from the streets,” Jack said.

“Smells like profit to me,” the third man said, chuckling.

Kerrick thought fast. He needed to keep the entrance clear. And, although Avry and the guys could handle five armed opponents, the smugglers might ambush them in the dark tunnels. Casualties were not an option.

He had to stop them now.

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER 13

“All? As in all 2095 of them?” I asked Melina.

“Yes.”