Iron and Magic

“We have to try,” she said. “They killed the children, Hugh.”

“Fine,” he said, his face still dark. “But one at a time.”

That was all she would get. She could argue more, but he was putting the welfare of their people first. Elara couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. “Thank you,” she made herself say.

“You’re welcome.”

Silence fell. She relaxed a little. The rest of the items on the agenda were routine.

Dugas cleared his throat. “As I started to say, Rufus Fortner is coming here this Friday.”

“The head of the Lexington Red Guard,” Elara said.

“I remember,” Hugh said. “He was at our wedding.”

“He’s looking for a supplier of RMD. The remedy,” Savannah said.

The remedy was an all-purpose anti-magic contamination salve the same way Neosporin was an all-purpose antibiotic ointment. It was particularly useful in sterilizing wounds inflicted by vampires. The Vampirus Immortuus pathogen was weak at the start of infection and could be killed with rubbing alcohol, if it came to it, but the remedy was the established and proven sterilizing agent.

“How big is the order?” Hugh asked.

“We stand to make over a hundred grand in the first year,” Dugas said. “Likely two, three times more, if they like the product and place additional orders.”

“What do we know about this guy?” Hugh asked.

“He’s a good old boy,” Lamar said. “Neo-Viking. ‘Work hard, play hard, beer me wench, if it breathes I can kill it’ type.”

“He’s coming to hang out with you,” Elara told him. “He was terribly impressed with the fight at the reception and he’s starstruck, because you have a reputation. He wants to get drunk with the Preceptor of the Iron Dogs and swap war stories.”

Hugh shrugged. “Okay, we’ll ham it up for him. We’ll need a feast and a barrel of beer.”

She blinked. “A barrel? We don’t really brew beer in barrels. We do it in big drums.”

“That’s fine, we’ll pour it in a big wooden barrel. I saw it in an old movie once,” Hugh said. “Trust me, it never fails.”

She waved at him. “However you want to do it. We need this guy. We’ve been wooing him and the Mercenary Guild in Lexington and Louisville for over a year and they wouldn’t give us the time of day until you showed up. It’s not just his order.”

Hugh nodded. “He’s a foot in the door. If we can get him, we’ll get the rest.”

She smiled. That was one thing she never had to worry about. Hugh was a massive pain, but when he saw an opportunity, he grabbed it.

Dugas checked his notes. “Last thing. The first escort from the Pack arrives tomorrow to pick up the two shapeshifter families. We don’t anticipate any problems, but just in case…”

The knife stopped in Hugh’s hand. “What pack?”

“The Pack,” she said. “Atlanta’s Pack. The Free People of the Code.”

His people sat up straighter. Stoyan’s face turned unreadable like a wall.

“Run that by me again,” Hugh said, his voice deceptively calm.

What the hell was wrong with him? “Kentucky passed a law banning the formation of packs in its municipalities,” Elara said. “We have a standing agreement with the Atlanta Pack. Any shapeshifter who wants to relocate to Pack territory can come here. We house them and feed them, until the Pack sends an escort to pick them up. They reimburse us for expenses and pay a nice fee on top of it.”

“No,” he said.

“Why not? It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. Is it because they are shapeshifters? Because you have shapeshifters in your ranks.”

“I don’t have a problem with shapeshifters. I have a problem with that particular Pack. I know Lennart. I know how he operates. We’re not doing this.”

“Curran Lennart is no longer in charge of the Atlanta Pack,” Savannah said.

Hugh looked at her, then turned to Lamar. “You didn’t think to mention it?”

“It didn’t come up,” Lamar said apologetically. “He retired to start a family.”

Hugh stared at him for a second longer, then laughed, a bitter cold sound. “The moron left it all for her. You can’t make this shit up. Who’s in charge now?”

“James Shrapshire,” Lamar said.

Elara had to grab this opening. “See? It’s no longer Lennart’s pack.”

“Is Lennart dead?” Hugh asked.

“No,” Dugas said.

“Then it’s still his Pack.” Hugh leaned forward. “Lennart is a First. His ancestors made a deal for their power with animal gods that roamed the planet when humans ran around in animal skins and hid from lightning in caves. It doesn’t matter who’s in charge of the Pack. When he roars, every shapeshifter will follow him, and we won’t be doing business with him. This matter is closed.”

That was just about enough. “No, it’s not. The Pack is one of our biggest clients. They are churning panacea out, which—“

“I know what the damn panacea does,” he snarled.

“—significantly reduces occurrences of spontaneous loupism in shapeshifter newborns and teenagers,” she kept going. “It doesn’t stay potent for long and they need large quantities of herbs, some of which only grow in the woods here. They pay excellent rates.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should care, because Pack money is feeding and housing your Dogs.”

“Do you not understand me? I won’t work with Lennart. Elara, are you stupid or hard of hearing?”

“I must be stupid, because I married an idiot who stomps around and throws tantrums like a spoiled child! What the hell did this Curran do to you? Killed your master, stole your girl, burned down your castle? What?”

Hugh leaned back, his eyes blazing. Oooh, she touched a nerve. Direct hit.

She turned to Stoyan. “Let me guess, it was the girl.”

“And the castle,” Felix said quietly.

“Is this why you want the moat, Hugh? So Curran won’t burn this castle down?” She knew the moment she said it that she’d pushed him too far.

Hugh leaned back in the chair, a long-suffering look on his face. “You know what your problem is?” he asked, his voice bored.

“Please tell me.”

“You should get laid.”

Elara stared at him.

“It will keep you docile and reasonable. For the sake of all of us, find someone to fuck you, so you can resolve things like an adult, because I’m sick and tired of your hysterics.”

Oh. Oh, wow.

Nobody moved. Nobody even breathed.

“Cute. This agreement predates our marriage,” Elara said into the sudden silence, pronouncing each word clearly. “According to the contract you signed, it is exempt from your input. I don’t need your permission. This exchange will go forward. And you will remember that you are a married adult responsible for the welfare of four thousand people. You’ll reach deep down, find a pair of big-boy pants, and put them on. If I can pretend not to cringe every time you touch me in public, you can pretend to be civil. Bury that hatchet, and if you can’t, hide in your room while they’re here.”

The rage in his eyes was almost too much.

“You signed on the dotted line,” Elara told him. “Are you a man of your word or are you not, Preceptor?”

Hugh rose from his chair, turned, and left. His people filed out behind him.

She slumped against the table. “Well, that went well.”

“We should poison him,” Savannah said.

“Why do you always want to poison people?” Dugas asked her.

“I don’t want to poison people. I want to poison d’Ambray.”

“He’ll come around,” Elara said. “He’s under a lot of pressure, because of that palisade. He’s trying to figure out how to keep us safe from an enemy he doesn’t understand and it’s eating at him.”

All three of them looked at her.