Cold Steel

I took a step back, a shade too abruptly, because Caith’s head slewed around like that of a predator spotting the furtive skittering of its hapless prey. A vivid memory of the troll ripping out the belly of the horse, guts spilling, steam rising from the hot innards, blinded me for a blink of an eye.



A blink was all it took for them to take the leap and make the kill.



“The feathered people need not pose as my servants,” said Vai, startling me back to myself. He crossed to shake Chartji’s hand. “Chartji is my solicitor, after all. A pleasant coincidence that we stumbled across each other here in Sala. We have a great deal to discuss.”



“I have not neglected your case, Magister. However, my case file is in Havery.”



“All the more reason I would be pleased to offer you and Caith conveyance in a comfortably sprung carriage and lodging in respectable inns for as long as you choose to accompany me.”



Chartji bared her teeth to mimic a human smile as she approached me to shake hands. “Catherine Bell Barahal. I am pleased to flock with you again. Our clutch-cousin, Keer, has written of your doings in Expedition.”



I hesitated, bruised by the memory of the dead horse. “Truly, I am glad to be reunited with you all. I was just so… stunned by the fight at the livestock market.”



“It is not to be wondered at,” agreed Chartji. “Trolls from the north country in Amerike have little understanding of human behavior and custom. They are brutish and abrupt. They don’t properly know how to behave around you rats. Why, they don’t even take rats as clutch-cousins or allow them to buy stakes in their consortiums, as we Expeditioners do.”



As I grasped her hand I was overtaken by a distinctive scent of summer sun, hot stone, and dry grass touched by the gentle spray of falling water. Keer had felt the same to me. I liked it. The other trolls hadn’t smelled this way.



She bared her teeth again, sharing a smile as if she could smell my settling nerves and wanted me to feel reassured. “Regardless, Cat, you have certain rights and privileges now, for you have given up your weaknesses to the clutch and not been consumed.”



“Does that mean you and I are clutch-cousins also, Chartji? And me and Caith, too?”



“Ooo!” said Caith, who had been circling in with his bright gaze on my cold steel. “If we are clutch-cousins, then can I hold that shiny blade?”



Chartji whistled, and Caith bobbed apologetically and retreated to the table, where he tapped his talons so fretfully on the wood that he cut shallow gouges.



“That might just work,” said Brennan to Vai with a nod of appreciation that melted Vai’s frosty manner a trifle. “How are you going to explain how you suddenly picked up your three servants after being here two weeks with none?”



“What makes you think I have to explain anything to anyone?” Vai tugged on his sleeves.



Rory tugged on his with exactly the same movement. “The sleeves were too short,” he said, “but the clever tailor put lace on to lengthen them. Don’t they look nice?”



Vai gave me a stern look to remind me not to criticize.



I said, quite truthfully, “The color looks well on you, Rory. The fit is good, too, although you might need to have it let out a little at the shoulders. I’m delighted”—if astounded!—“that Vai has seen fit to make sure you are properly clothed.”



“By the way, Magister,” said Chartji, “several letters came to you from Expedition.”



“Have they?” Vai grinned with such unfeigned delight that Bee looked as startled as if he had turned into a different man. “Kofi said he would write! I don’t suppose there is any chance you have the letters with you?”



“No—” Chartji broke off as I raised a hand for silence.



Footfalls sounded from the passage. The woman with the baby entered, carrying a tray.



“Cook will be having the soup hot soon now, Maester,” she said to Brennan, “meaning no disrespect to the magister.” She glanced at Vai and then took a second look up and down in an admiring way before she began unloading the dishes.



Bee cast me a look, rolling her eyes. Fortunately Vai was speaking to Chartji in a low voice about sending letters back to Expedition, and did not notice. Youths brought the food, a hearty fare of mutton stew and cabbage mashed up with turnips, and we sat. I half expected Bee to be casting sly glances and arch looks at the man she had confessed was her lover, but she treated him no differently from the rest of us.



“We radicals are not working for General Camjiata,” Brennan explained to Vai. “We are working with him to achieve those goals we share in common. He will soon march his army north over the Pyrene Mountains into the Gallic Territories. We need to discover the plans of the Alliance of princes and mages, where and when and with what numbers they mean to fight him, because they will fight him. The general simply cannot have raised as large an army as his enemies will. He will need our help to defeat them.”