“You remember me, Atilya. I’m honored.” Vorik bowed. “But what a dreadful way you greet visitors.”
“We have to defend those who can no longer defend themselves.” She tilted her head toward the hides. Some elders were visible, doing crafting work with their hands while they observed.
“I’ll wager you don’t get holiday visitors bringing savik-berry pemmican,” Vorik said.
“A treat we’ve had to do without.”
“Dreadful. Here, despite you trying to take my head off, I’ll give you something.”
“Pemmican?”
“Better. I havepears.” Vorik smiled at her, hoping his charm would smooth the way for him to chisel some of that ore out from under a dragon.
“Some of the pears that you’ve stolen from the Garden Kingdom, I presume.” Atilya looked disapproving rather than charmed.
“They’redelicious. And I actually paid for my pears. Admittedly, the farmers who tended the orchard weren’t around, there having recently been an invasion, but I did leave coin.”
Watching but not showing concern for the archers pointing arrows at him, Vorik walked forward and held out a pear, somewhat bruised after being in his pack for two days. It wasn’t one of the ones he’d picked at the farm on Castle Island—he’d consumed those long ago—but a couple he’d packed back at their headquarters cave.
Atilya looked at the amphora instead of the pear, her gaze flinty. The archers shifted their weight, ready to loose those arrows.
Though Vorik didn’tthinkhe’d ever given the leaders of the Freeborn Faction a reason to want him dead, he couldn’t be certain he hadn’t wronged someone, however inadvertently, along the way. It was also possible their ideology alone might lead them to believe he should be shot.
“What is in that vase,” Atilya asked, “and why did you come here?”
“It’s an amphora, I’m told.”
The flinty gaze did not change.
“I’ve orders to acquire a few items for General Jhiton.”
Atilya looked toward the back of the cavern, at the ore deposits glowing cheerfully, some beneath dragon butts. Was its magical energy pleasant to sit upon?
“Why does General Jhiton want anamphoraand teal ore?” Atilya had to be guessing about the ore, but she sounded certain, maybe because there was nothing else here, except the faction itself, that might have drawn a rider on a quest. “His hobbies are slaying people and ensuring the Kingdom will never trust our kind enough to allow us on their shores, not gathering collectibles.”
“It’s possible he’s changed since you knew him.”
“He has not.”
Vorik spread his arms. He had no intention of revealing Jhiton’s plans to these people, not when they had a history ofgiving stormer information to the Kingdom. As far as he knew, the Kingdom had never come to trust them, but they’d doubtless enjoyed the tidbits they’d received.
“I’m just a lowly captain,” he said. “I’m not privy to Jhiton’s plans.”
“He’s your brother.”
“And yet, he plots and schemes without me. It’s rude, isn’t it?” Vorik tried his smile again, though he doubted he would make headway with Atilya.
One of the archers, a woman in her twenties, giggled. Too bad she didn’t look like she was in charge of anything except perforating intruders with arrows. Atilya turned a cool gaze on her, and the girl wiped the amusement from her face.
Vorik waved the pear at Atilya again. “Try it, Captain. There are no strings attached.”
“It’s Chieftess. We’ve formed a tribe of our own.”
“And you’re in charge?” Vorik looked around, hoping a few others might share equally in the leadership responsibilities, others who might be more inclined to negotiate with him.
“I’ve been elected by my fellow tribe mates.”
“Elected? Goodness, that’s quite democratic.”
