Flamecaster (Shattered Realms, #1)(44)

Destin had the lithe strength of an acrobat or dancer. He reminded Lila of the clan runners who could cover miles without stopping. Put him in students’ robes, and he would look bookish. Dress him in finery, and he would break hearts at court. In peasant garb, he would blend into any crowd.

You have no idea who he is, Lila thought. He’s a role-player, just like you. Never forget that. With some effort, Lila forced herself to focus on the Karn in front of her, Marin.

That Karn had been taking his own long look at Lila, and it seemed he was not impressed. “This is your smuggler, Botetort?” Lila noticed that he directed his skepticism to the thane rather than to his king.

“I’ve been working with Lila for three years,” Botetort said, “and she’s never disappointed me.”

“Really?” Karn said, snorting. “Women disappoint me all the time.”

“Perhaps the fault isn’t in the women, but in you, General,” Lila thought. But somehow it came out of her mouth.

They all froze, staring at her. Several of the blackbirds put their hands on the hilts of their swords, their eyes sliding to Karn to see what he would do.

Karn moved fast, for a large man. Erupting from his chair, he gripped the front of Lila’s blues and yanked her close, so they were nose to nose. “What did you say?”

Well, that’s a good start, Lila thought. The only thing more frightening than Marin Karn at a distance was Karn up close.

Don’t show fear don’t show fear don’t show fear. She looked into Karn’s tobacco eyes and said, “Forgive me, General, if I’ve offended. I only meant that it would be a rare woman who could hope to be a suitable match for you.” She snapped her mouth shut, unsure whether she’d made things better or worse. Stop spilling scummer, Lila, or you’re the one will be knee-deep in it.

After what seemed like a lifetime of silence, the king of Arden began to laugh. Once started, he laughed so hard that tears leaked from his eyes. Just like that, the cord of tension snapped.

“You have to admit, Karn, she has a point,” he said, swiping his eyes with his sleeves.

But Karn wasn’t admitting anything. “The bitch has a mouth on her that’s going to cost her if she isn’t careful.” He’d gotten the message, though. Releasing his grip on Lila, he stalked back to the table and dropped into his chair.

“Botetort.” Montaigne nodded toward the door. “Leave us. We’ll talk later.”

Botetort wanted to stay, Lila could tell. But he seemed to know better than to object. He bowed out of the room.

They must have decided that Lila posed no threat, because Karn sent the blackbirds out, too.

There was an empty chair now, but nobody invited Lila to sit. She was tempted to sit down, anyway, but wasn’t sure how far she could push these two. So she stood behind it, resting her hands on the back. Anyway, she thought better on her feet.

With no further ceremony, the king nodded to Karn to proceed.

“Where are you from, girl?” Karn studied her through heavy-lidded eyes.

“I grew up in the Southern Islands, General.”

“And yet, I believe you’re of mixed blood.”

“Aye. My father was a soldier. He wasn’t around much.”

“Ah,” Karn said, nodding as if he understood, which he didn’t. “A sell-sword, then. Who did he fight for?”

Lila met his gaze. “The Fells. That is one reason I am fluent in that language. But I work for myself. You could call me a sell-sword, although I believe my talents would be wasted on a battlefield.”

Montaigne and Karn looked at each other. “Well, then,” the king said. “Did you bring the collar that you mentioned?”

“Aye, Your Majesty. As you know, I’ve been able to source magical tools from time to time in the past, but it’s very hard to get. The clans are wary of letting go of flashcraft these days, since they worry that it might make its way to Arden. But I do have a piece to show you. With your permission?” Lila patted her carry bag.

“Please.”

Unfastening the flap, Lila reached inside and pulled out a collar made of beaten silver, its dull finish inscribed with blackened runes. She extended it toward the king, but he yanked his hands back and shook his head. “Have a look, Karn.”

He’s a cautious bastard, Lila thought, for about the hundredth time.

Karn took the collar and turned it in his hands, examining it on all sides. It took on a glow as he sent power into it, testing it. “It is flashcraft, Your Majesty. Copperhead made. But it looks old—like a vintage piece.”

“It is,” Lila said. “It dates from the Wizard Wars. It’s more than a thousand years old.”

Karn looked up sharply. “Is it, now? Where did you get this?”

Lila shifted her eyes away. “I have a contact who can supply flashcraft now and then. Not just collars. Talismans, magical armor, and amulets.”

Karn unfastened the catch and opened the collar, snapped it shut again, tried the connection. “Who is this contact and where does he get the merchandise?”

“I don’t know,” Lila said. “But he is trustworthy.”

“Trustworthy?” Montaigne said, raising an eyebrow. “Is there really such a person?”

“What I mean is, he knows better than to cross me.”