The Disappearance of Winter's Daughter (Riyria Chronicles #4)(94)

“Grom Galimus?” Royce said.

Griswold nodded. “That’s where Erasmus”—he looked at the widow and cringed—“was going to raise his golem. Villar was going to be somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. He wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“How long can a summoner control his golem?” Royce asked.

“It comes down to a force of wills. The summoner needs to conduct the actions of the golem. You see through its eyes and direct its movements. But it hates being used, so the whole time you have to concentrate and be mindful about the amount of time the connection is in place. Keeping control for too long is dangerous.”

“How so?”

“Hang on too long, and you lose your soul and become permanently trapped inside the golem. It becomes immortal and nearly indestructible.”

“Yeah, okay,” Royce said. “That’s worse. How long does that take?”

“Generally, we try to not hold the connection for more than a few hours, but a golem can do a lot of damage in that amount of time. Best way to stop the summoner is to force him to sever the connection.”

“And how do you do that?” Royce asked.

“Distract, threaten, or kill him.”

“So the connection is broken if the summoner dies?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” A smile grew on Royce’s lips.

“I think I would prefer stopping him before he makes another one,” Hadrian said, moving to the steps.

“What are you going to do?” Griswold asked.

Hadrian shrugged. “We have a tendency to make this stuff up as we go.”





A mir had been waiting at the top of the stairs and handed Hadrian his weapons without saying a word. After Hadrian strapped them on, he jogged to catch up to Royce.

“What’s the plan?” he asked as they walked down a roadway. He knew it was called Center Street only because the name was neatly stenciled on a wooden road sign that the birds loved more than the residents did, as evidenced by the white streaks on the placard and pole. The street, as far as Hadrian could tell, tracked due west toward the plaza. He knew this not due to any growing understanding of the city, but because he could see the spires of Grom Galimus straight ahead. The tallest building by far in the city, the cathedral could always be seen rising above the other roofs.

“Not sure. I’m thinking.”

The two were as alone as they could be that morning in a cramped city that was coming alive with the rising sun. Griswold, Seton, and Selie Nym had remained to aid Roland with quelling the rebellion.

“Happy first day of spring,” Hadrian offered along with a yawn as they walked by a shop where the owner flipped over a sign, presumably for the first time that year. It had read DRIED HERBS but now announced FRESH FLOWERS.

Royce gave him a sidelong glance. “Don’t do that again.”

“You have something against spring? When did that happen?”

“Don’t offer yourself as a hostage.”

“Oh, that.” Hadrian yawned again. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, and it was starting to drag on him.

“Don’t Oh that me,” Royce reprimanded, sounding eerily like Evelyn Hemsworth. “This is not a laughing matter. You put me in a box.”

“I put you in a box? See, I saw it as me putting myself in one.”

“You did both. In our line of business, associations are liabilities. Loyalties are points of weakness. They get you killed. If they had captured you, locked you up, that would have been fine. But you—”

“How would that have been fine?”

“I would have just killed them.” Royce said this in such a matter-of-fact tone that Hadrian failed to question the boast.

If it had been anyone else, Hadrian would have passed it off as bombastic bluster, but Royce wasn’t bragging, wasn’t exaggerating to make a point. He was serious, and to him this was a practical matter. A basic trade rule, like not shoveling manure into the wind.

“But when you volunteer to act as collateral,” Royce went on, “that puts me in a tight spot. The stakes go up, and I can’t walk away if things take a nasty turn—like this one did.”

“Is this your way of saying you care about me?”

Royce continued his Evelyn Hemsworth impersonation by displaying an I-can’t-believe-you-really-exist expression. “This is my way of saying you’re an idiot, and the next time you do something that stupid, I’ll let them kill you.”

Hadrian smiled. “You really like me, don’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“I feel bad now,” Hadrian said. “I didn’t get you anything for Spring Day.”

Royce walked faster, shaking his head as he moved forward.

The sun was barely up, but already the day displayed all the indications that it would be glorious. The sky was blue, the sunshine bright, the temperature warmer than it had been in days. Birds built nests under the eaves of shops as owners threw wide winter shutters, letting the birdsong in. How rare that the first day of spring lived up to expectations. That sentiment was on every face as people crept out of dark homes to celebrate the holiday of rebirth. Mothers dressed their children in fine clothes, delivering stern ultimatums and handing out rules against doing anything beyond standing still. Young women burst out of doorways, resembling budding flowers as they twirled their dresses of bright yellows, pinks, and greens, full of excitement that they might attract the attention of a handsome bee or two.