“That would depend on why they are here,” Kithvaryn said with a sigh as his eyes turned to Jala once more. The smile faded from his face and his brown eyes locked on her with such intensity that she almost backstepped. “Why are you here, Lady Merrodin?” he asked in a voice as demanding as his gaze.
“I’ve come to negotiate a contract with you,” Jala replied bluntly with as much confidence and strength as she could muster.
Kithvaryn’s laughter echoed softly through the quiet room as he glanced back at Vaze who simply shrugged. “It would seem I am in very high demand this year. You are the fourth person to speak with me about a contract, Lady Merrodin, and by principle alone you are the last I’m inclined to accept a contract with.” Leaning forward in his chair he let his eyes trail slowly across her, his gaze lingering on her torn and stained dress. “You don’t have the resources to hire me, little girl,” he said softly in a tone as cold as ice.
“I have resources that no one else can offer, General,” Jala corrected in a calm voice. “I have your son’s soul and what I want in return should be simple for a company as skilled as yours.”
Kithvaryn’s mouth hardened into a line with her words and she wondered if she had completely misjudged the man. “You wish to barter my son’s soul to me?” he asked in a cool voice.
“I wish to gift you with the return of your son to show my gratitude for the contract we have. If we do not have a contract I see little reason for a gift. Especially if you plan to attempt to sell me,” Jala corrected.
“Well, she has my interest peaked,” Vaze said with a smile.
“You cannot possibly offer me enough money to face the Avanti for you, child. The losses would be heavy and I know you don’t have the resources for it.” Kithvaryn fairly growled, his expression darkening.
“I don’t want you to fight the Avanti, General Kithvaryn. I want you to protect Goswin and currently I don’t think they have any enemies even looking at them. I want you to fortify the country I returned from the dead and ensure that it survives the war. I will fight my own battles,” Jala explained, her expression still calm despite the general’s obvious displeasure.
Kithvaryn laughed once more a cold bitter sound. “You will face the Avanti alone girl? You won’t survive the first turning of the moon once they march. Their armies will burn your sad little kingdom to the ground without hired protection.”
“Don’t underestimate her, Kith. She is Dashara reborn, I swear it,” Vaze said in an amused voice as he leaned back in his chair once more a wide smile on his face.
“Dashara barely lived past twenty and every child that has been termed Dasharan since then has died young as well,” Kithvaryn replied dryly.
“I have no idea who Dashara is or what a Dasharan is, but I have no intention of dying young. I hate to repeat myself, but I will say once again that I will fight my own battles, General. I do not need your protection. Goswin, however, does,” Jala broke in. Frustration edged her voice and she knew it, but it couldn’t be helped. Her nerves were already on edge and that was the second time she had been called Dasharan. The word had never been explained to her and she didn’t even know if she was being insulted.
“Dashara Avanti was one of the first rebels of Sanctuary,” Valor said in a soft voice, his gaze on the carpet. She rose up against her own family. She opposed slavery and tyranny and her family was famous for both. It was said that she was so charismatic that those that followed her would have fallen on their own swords had she asked them to. In the three years of her rebellion she managed to bring the entire land of Avanti to its knees and freed nearly every slave in the country. The stories about her say that had she survived another month her rebellion would have been a complete success and Avanti would be an entirely different country from what it is now.”
“The term Dasharan has been coined for those who seek dramatic change and have the potential to accomplish it, Jala,” Vaze added with a smile. You were never being insulted by the use of the word. Fiona Veirasha was called Dasharan while she lived and you know how well the stories speak of her.”
“And I promise you will not suffer the same fate as Dashara herself, nor will you die young,” Valor said in a louder voice, his words etched with sincerity.
Jala looked between the two of them and then back to Vaze. “How did she die?” she asked softly, not at all sure that she wanted the answer.
“Hemlock,” Vaze replied simply without a hint of emotion to his voice. His dark eyes were watching Valor carefully, his expression neutral. As always, it was impossible for Jala to gauge what he was thinking.
Jala shook her head slowly and looked back to Kithvaryn. “I don’t want change, General. I want survival. Change could come later perhaps, but for now, survival is the only goal. I can protect my own lands, but I cannot protect Goswin. Will you at least consider my offer?”
Kithvaryn studied her thoughtfully and then turned slowly to Valor. “Would you fall on your sword for her boy?” he asked in a mocking tone.
“Without hesitation if she asked it of me,” Valor replied evenly with a tight smile. “If you, however, are suggesting it, you can go straight to hell,” he added in a colder voice.
Kithvaryn snorted in what Jala thought was amusement but she wasn’t sure. Turning his gaze once more, Kithvaryn looked at Sovann and raised an eyebrow. “And you?” he asked his voice still mocking.
“I don’t actually carry a sword. So I suppose I would have to borrow Valor’s for that,” Sovann replied with a slight shrug. The mage’s tone was light and conversational but his expression was dead serious.