“Lord Alvred had some questions about the Demon Riders,” said Malikel. “They’ve had a few attacks in Edlan as well.”
Alvred leaned over Kyra, absently smoothing down his mustache. “Is it true that they and their cats are the same type of creature?”
That was an easy enough question. “It’s true,” she said. “I saw them change shape many times.”
He raised his eyebrows in keen interest. “And what have you found to be the best way of fighting them?”
“Spears, sir.” Military strategy was Tristam’s domain, but Kyra had been around long enough to answer at the simplest level. “That and telling folk to stay out of their way. They’re usually going for livestock, though they’re ruthless if you attack them.”
Alvred had a few follow-up questions, and Kyra found she could answer them to his satisfaction. Other officials came to their circle as she spoke, and the air around her grew warmer with the crowd. Apparently, the Demon Riders were high in everybody’s interest. As she spoke, Kyra became self-conscious about her lowborn speech. She was tempted to try to match the wallhuggers’ smoother consonants and intonation, but she suspected she’d only come across as foolish.
Alvred downed his wine in one swig. “This is all very interesting,” he said. “We’ve not found the Demon Riders to be much of a threat in Edlan. We did have a few attacks, which we fought off. After that, the barbarians have left us alone. Perhaps they’ve found easier marks elsewhere.”
The insult didn’t go unnoticed. All eyes went to Malikel, who looked to be suppressing a smile. “I congratulate you, Alvred, on the success of your excellent army.”
“It’s colder and rockier near Edlan, in’t it?” said Kyra. “Mayhap the Demon Riders just prefer warmer weather.”
Alvred peered down his nose at her. “And you would presume to know the minds of the barbarians? What kind of training does a girl like you have in warfare?”
Kyra flushed and squared her stance. “No formal learning, sir, but you’ll remember I was their prisoner for a month.”
Head Councilman Willem cleared his throat. His presence was commanding enough that everyone looked to him, though he didn’t start talking until the pretty serving girl attending him had finished refilling his glass. “You raise a good question, Alvred, and one that we at Forge might do well to remember. Kyra of Forge”—he emphasized the city name, subtly underscoring Kyra’s lack of affiliation with a noble house—“is a former assassin who was convicted of high treason, a member of the very group who first brought the Demon Riders against Forge. Certainly an unconventional choice to ask for counsel when the city’s safety is at stake. But Malikel’s choice in subordinates has always been unique.”
Kyra choked at Willem’s words. Willem had been the one to recruit Kyra into the Palace service after the pardon. How dare he reframe things now to cast suspicion on Malikel?
She might eventually have found her voice, but Malikel spoke first. “Thank you, Willem,” he said mildly. “Kyra is valuable to us precisely because of her history with the Assassins Guild. Her experience with them and as a prisoner of the Demon Riders gives her a perspective that we lack. Any tome on strategy will fall short upon meeting an unfamiliar enemy. Sometimes firsthand experience is the best.” He turned to Kyra. “I believe we’ve heard all we need from you. You are dismissed.”
Tristam intercepted her before she could go very far, looping his arm into hers as if they were any one of the elegant couples in the ballroom.
“Don’t leave.” He spoke conversationally and looked out over the crowd, though there was a layer of compassion in his tone. “If you let him know he’s upset you, then he’s won. It’s all part of the game.”