Kihrin found himself wishing he could carve away Pretty Boy’s smug expression with a shiv.
General Milligreest narrowed his eyes. “This young man, Kihrin, was attacked by the demon prince Xaltorath earlier today. I lost a good man before the Emperor could arrive to banish it. We’re still trying to locate the summoner.”
“What? Why would a demon prince go after a boy?” Darzin looked at Kihrin with undisguised confusion.
Kihrin was startled: Darzin D’Mon’s bemusement seemed genuine, and not some faux emotion worn only for the General’s benefit.
Darzin hadn’t sent the demon to attack him?
“We’re still investigating. Xaltorath may have acted on a whim. He can be capricious in his cruelties. We’re still trying to locate the party responsible for summoning the demon.”
“I imagine the summoner was eaten. Isn’t that kind of summoning terribly hard to control?”
“I wouldn’t know.” General Milligreest threw the nobleman a look of ill-concealed disgust.
Kihrin edged toward the door. If he could leave quietly, maybe they’d forget about him. He hadn’t expected this. He wanted to tell the General that he’d witnessed Darzin D’Mon and Dead Man kill that vané and summon a demon, but the General knew Darzin. He knew him well enough to invite him over to dinner. Milligreest wasn’t going to believe Kihrin’s accusations.
There was no help for it. Kihrin would leave. Kihrin could go back and buy a harp, any harp, claim it was a present and give it to Surdyeh. Ola was right. He’d slip a note to Jarith, tell the Captain what had happened once Kihrin was long gone. Silently he started his chant: No sight, no sound, no presence. I am not here …
“What good fortune the Emperor showed up, or it would have been a real mess, wouldn’t it?”
“It is Sandus’s duty to protect the Empire, Darzin. He would never ignore the threat of an unbound demon prince.”
“I’ll have to remember that. My son will be so relieved.”
The General looked around the room in obvious disgust. “Argas’s forge! It’s like an oven in here.”
Darzin shrugged. “I like it that way. So why bring the boy back here? Jarith finally proved a disappointment, so you’ve decided to adopt?”
“Of course not! He—?” The General looked around, and then stepped out in the hall. “Kihrin? Where are you going?”
Kihrin stopped his casual stroll and turned around, hiding his sigh. “Oh, I’m sorry, Your Lordship. I thought you might wish to speak with the prince in private.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Get back here. The faster we do this, the faster we can send you on your way.”
“Yes, sir.” Kihrin shuffled back to the General.
“That was amazing,” Pretty Boy said. “I didn’t even notice you leave.”
Kihrin kept his eyes on the floor. “Yes, my lord.”
“A boy like you could make quite a career with such skills of stealth.”
“I have no idea what you mean, my lord.”
“Yes … of course you don’t. Kihrin, you said your name is?”
“Yes, my lord.” He contemplated lying, but the High General already knew his name.
“Darzin, leave off shopping for people with a talent for law-breaking until you’re outside these walls. Young man, follow me and I’ll give you that reward.” Qoran walked down the hall with the attitude of someone who expected to be obeyed without question.
Kihrin hesitated before following, realizing Darzin was doing so as well. Every step was like walking on fire, as Kihrin forced himself forward against his body’s overwhelming desire to bolt and run. He would collect the harp and go. Darzin didn’t know Kihrin was the thief who had witnessed Xaltorath’s summoning.
Kihrin reminded himself everything was fine. He reminded himself several times.
Darzin whistled a jaunty tune as they walked, until the General gave him an annoyed look.
At last Milligreest arrived at a set of carved doors, which he unlocked with a heavy brass key. The General swung open the doors.
Against the far wall of the room rested several harps, some floor-length and others of smaller size. Kihrin frowned as he saw that the General kept them uncovered, but at least the room had no window to let in the sunlight, which might have warped the wood of a harp and soured the tone.
Milligreest nodded in the direction of the harps. “Pick one out you like, then I want you to play something for me.”
Kihrin turned back to him. “Excuse me, sir?”
Milligreest frowned. “What didn’t you understand? I want to hear you play something. That demon broke your harp and you deserve a replacement, but I’m not giving up one of my harps to someone who can’t use one, understand?”
Darzin snickered.
Kihrin started to protest the harp had been his father’s, not his. Then it occurred to him that the General was his only protection against Pretty Boy, or “Darzin,” or whatever his name was. He couldn’t afford to upset him. The young man nodded and crossed the room. He would pick something quickly. He would pick something that the High General wouldn’t care if he lost—the least valuable harp in the collection—and he would run back to Surdyeh as fast as he could.
Each musical instrument was a work of art, lovely in form, but most of them were too fancy, inlaid with rare woods and metals, set with precious gems. They were harps as art objects, not as musical instruments. If he sold one of these, he’d be arrested as its thief.
One harp looked like it might cost less than the yearly total income of the Shattered Veil: a small double-strung lap harp tucked into a corner. He turned to Qoran Milligreest for permission.
The High General nodded to him.
Kihrin sat down on a stool and pulled the harp onto his lap. The style of the harp was old-fashioned; he groaned as he realized the strings were silver instead of silk. He wasn’t sure he could play this: he wore his nails clipped short, since silk-strung harps were played with the fingertips, not the nails. He plucked a single string to test if he needed to ask for picks. To his surprise, a pure clean note rang.
He plucked an arpeggio, and couldn’t help but smile at the harp’s laughter. The notes were so clear, so perfect! Who wouldn’t sound like a master using a harp like this?
“Play it, don’t sit there and drool on it,” the General admonished, not unkindly. “Figures you’d find the prize of my collection.”
Kihrin looked up, shocked. “This?”
“She’s an antique. I more than half-suspect this is what Sandus had in mind.”
“The Emperor?” Lord Heir Darzin asked. “The Emperor ordered you to give that boy one of your harps?”
“The Emperor was impressed. Kihrin was very brave.”
Kihrin’s fingers paused on the strings, his look one of confusion.
“Yes, young man?”
“General, I don’t remember meeting the Emperor.” He frowned. He had smacked his head hard when the demon had thrown him. Just because he didn’t remember meeting the Emperor did not mean it hadn’t happened.
The General’s smile was kind. “Remember the man in the patchwork sallí?”
“That was Emperor Sandus?”