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“You really think Sigil of the Temurijon is camped out in the marsh waiting for the likes of you? You have a very high opinion of yourself, Charlie.” The assassin laughed coldly, a sharp sound. “She’s the finest bounty hunter in the realm. Last I heard she’s rounding up bandits for the Crown Prince of Kasa, terrorizing the Forest of Rainbows. A world away.”
Some tension was released from Charlon’s shoulders.
He’sright,Corayne thought with the shadow of triumph.Sorasa is very good at lying.
“I know someone who is waiting for you, though,” she added, lowering her voice. Her eyes wavered, moving from Charlon’s face to his hands. They clenched on the table, knuckles standing out white.
“Don’t, Sarn,” he growled. Again he reminded Corayne of a bull. This time, one who saw a red flag waving in front of his face. “Don’t talk about him.”
Sorasa was undeterred.
“If the Ward burns, so does he.”
A cord wound behind Charlon’s eyes. His bared his teeth. “Don’t talk to me about Garion,” he growled, suddenly as dangerous as any other criminal in Adira.
Sorasa was undeterred, a predator on the hunt, smelling a kill. “I saw him, you know. In Byllskos.”
Charlon went white, his already pale cheeks turning to alabaster. “Is he well?” he murmured, leaning into the assassin without regard. Corayne saw the desperation in him plain as the rain pouring down outside. Whoever Garion was, he was very important to the forger.
“As well as usual,” Sorasa said with a dismissing wave. “Preening, overly proud. Pissed with me for stealing his contract.”
The cord broke, unfurling, and he nodded. His lethal edge disappeared, receding like a curtain drawn away. “Good,” he said in a small voice, running a finger over his lips. “I don’t suppose you can... entice him to join your endeavor too?”
It was Sorasa’s turn to harden. “That’s not something I can do anymore.”
“Fine,” Charlon said, his eyes on the table. “Fine.” Then he glared at Corayne, his voice forceful again. “What do you think, Cor girl?”
Corayne blinked, taken off guard.
“About all this,” he clarified. “Your quest to save the realm, and my place in it?” He gestured to the sword on her back.
She felt it down her spine, cold steel and leather. Most of the time it was a deadweight, an anchor. Now it reassured her, and she leaned into it, hoping to bring some of its steel into her bones.
Corayne raised her head, tossing back her braid of black hair.
“I think we’re being hunted by a kingdom and a devil. The devil, there’s not much you can do about that.”So far to climb, but I cannot look up, or look back.“But the kingdom, an army... it will be good to have someone like you to smooth the way.”
That seemed to agree with Charlon. He leaned back, clapping his hands together. “I can get you passage papers by the end of the day. Diplomatic envoy seals. Marks of travel. No city gate will be barred, no palace closed; no patrol would dare stop you. Only the Queen herself could demand your arrest. All at a price, of course,” he added, cutting a glance at Dom.
The Elder scowled. “I’ll have sold Iona before all is said and done.”
“But what good is that to a Spindle burning in the wild?TwoSpindles?” Charlon added, asking the question they all had. “What good will I be?”
Sorasa didn’t seem to share his sentiment. “We’ll certainly find out.”
“But I’m not going,” Charlon added sharply. “And you don’t even know where you’re headed!”
“Leave that to us,” Corayne heard herself say.
Leave that to me.
Already the threads were pulling together, inch by inch. She needed only weave them into something that made sense, a simple direction.
She felt Sorasa’s copper-flame eyes. The assassin did not smile, but there was victory in her all the same. She reached across the tea table, taking Charlon by the shoulder.
“Would I be here if this weren’t real?” she murmured, leaning so she was all he could see. Her voice dropped an octave, stern. “Would I risk my life for anything less than the end of the world?”
The forger’s jaw tightened. “No, you wouldn’t,” he said thickly, then fell silent. Sorasa let him think, giving him a long moment to make his decision. “What of Garion? He must be warned.”
