Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(88)

“Karn. You can’t have been gone from Delphi that long.” She fanned herself. “Do you really need a fire?”

“Did I ask you for your opinion?” With the fire going to his satisfaction, he sat on the edge of the hearth. “How can I help you, Lila? Surely you aren’t hurting for business, with a civil war in the offing and the ongoing war with the Fells—”

“And an invasion from the empress in the east.” She eyed him, her head cocked. “But you already knew about that.” There was a trace of a question mark at the end of that statement. It struck him that she was watching him in the same way he’d watched Queen Marina, trying to ferret out whether he’d been involved.

“Actually, I just heard,” Destin said. “What can you tell me about this empress? Did a northern princeling refuse her hand in marriage or what?”

“Not all wars are about unrequited love,” Lila said.

Destin couldn’t help laughing. He’d missed Lila, he had to admit.

“What have you heard?” he said.

Lila gave him a look that said, You first. Then relented. “What I know I heard from my relatives on the coast.”

“The smugglers?”

“We prefer ‘merchants and traders,’” Lila said. “Anyway, they said all the ports on the east coast are in an uproar, trying to fortify against possible attacks by sea, people wondering what the empress’s intentions are. They’re used to pirates—they know there’s always a risk when they put to sea. But this is the first time pirates have come inland, acting like they mean to stay.”

“Have they advanced beyond Chalk Cliffs?”

“I don’t know,” Lila said. “I’ve been on the road.”

“Are you selling magecraft to them?”

She shook her head. “My understanding is that they don’t use magecraft. Their soldiers are magelike, but they don’t use amulets and they cannot be controlled with collars or defended against with talismans.”

“Too bad,” Destin said, rubbing his chin. “You think you have a whole new market, and it comes to nothing.”

“Exactly. So. How are you getting on with King Jarat?”

“Why?” Destin asked warily.

“This empress is bad for business,” Lila said. “I wondered if he would be amenable to helping the northerners boot her out.”

Destin stared at her, then burst out laughing.

Now it was Lila’s turn to glare at him.

Destin blotted tears from his eyes. It had been so long since he’d had anything to laugh about.

“What’s so funny, Karn?”

“I—I’m sure if you explained the damage to your business, King Jarat will get right on it. Maybe you could offer him a split of the profits.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it exactly that way, but—”

“I’m serious. He could use the cash. He can use it to buy more ordnance from you.” Destin raised his hands, palms up. “Perfect.”

“Shut up, Karn,” Lila growled.

“Maybe there’s something else you can sell the empress,” Destin said. “I understand that she forces prisoners to drink her blood and turns them into slaves.” He lifted Lila’s cup and waggled it under her nose. “How about . . . cups? Or maybe a product to get bloodstains out?”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Lila grabbed her cup back and drained it.

“Actually,” Karn admitted, “I’m not. I know enough about the empress to predict disaster if we’re not able to drive her away.”

“Then work with me,” Lila said.

Spending time with Lila Barrowhill always proved worthwhile, even if it had its price in aggravation. Somehow it was a pleasure to work with a person who never hid behind a fa?ade of respectability.

He rose, opened a secret cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of bingo and two glasses. “Shall we?”





35


THE EMPRESS’S NEW CLOTHES


Lyss and Breon were housed in a luxurious suite of rooms in one of the finished wings of the marble palace. They each had their own bedroom, with a connecting living area. The suite opened onto a terrace overlooking the ocean, but the only way out of the wing was through a locked wrought-iron gate and past a guard post that was staffed with blood mages around the clock.

Servants came and went with food trays and linens, their sandals whispering over the stones. Breon tried to strike up a conversation with some of them, but got nowhere. Lyss finally realized that it was because they were deaf—which is probably the best protection against a spellsinger.

A young woman came in one day with an armload of nightgowns and silk robes that she then hung in a tall wardrobe. She measured Lyss from top to toe, murmuring her surprise over the battleground of Lyss’s body—a maze of old scars and fading bruises.

Lyss tried speaking with her, using the four languages she knew. Clearly the young woman heard, but she didn’t understand. Finally, Lyss pointed her thumb into her chest and said, “Lyss.” Then she pointed at the girl, who smiled and said, “Lara.”

Two days later, Lara brought several bundles of new clothes. There were two sets of garments similar to those that the blood mages had worn—the ones who’d attacked the keep at Chalk Cliffs. Loose-fitting breeches that narrowed just below the knee; a linen overshirt; a long vest, decorated with embroidery and braid; a thick leather belt and leather gauntlets; and a head wrap.