So stop whining and do what you can to make sure you don’t get them killed.
She focused on Davith again. “So they’re planning to kill me. How?”
Davith shook his head. “I don’t know that. Just that she told me that your vicinity was likely to be
—ah— unhealthy in the near future.”
Unfortunately that left Marguerite with far too many options. And I don’t know if the Sail is willing to break their own cover or not. They could drop a corpse in here and frame us for murder, then discreetly garrote us in our cells, or they could simply have someone walk in, stab us, bundle us up in rugs, and pitch us off the side of the mountain into the lake. Or just stab us, let the maid discover the bodies, and sacrifice a pawn to take the fall if anyone connects the two.
Damn it all, that’s what that attack on Shane was, wasn’t it? They were either trying to remove him, or testing to see what I’d do in response. And instead of going to the Sail and demanding answers, I did nothing.
Marguerite weighed the possibility that Davith himself was the assassin, and discarded it. Davith was, as the saying went, a lover, not a fighter. He could probably have overpowered her, but he was certainly no match for Wren, let alone Shane. Although I doubt he knows that Wren is a paladin.
Wren seems to have played her part better than I did.
“All right,” Marguerite said. “If I send you with a message to Fenella—”
Davith was already shaking his head. “Marguerite, no.” He started to reach out a hand, then yanked it back when Shane growled. “You can’t negotiate your way out of this one, I promise you.”
“You’re saying Fenella doesn’t have a price?”
“Everybody has a price.” He carefully avoided looking at Wren. “I’m saying that you can’t possibly meet it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that?”
“Because I know what the stakes are.” He shook his head, then winced, lifting his fingers to his bruised eye. “The Sail believes that this artificer is a threat to their very existence. They aren’t going to be put off for a few gold and a hot tip on what’s selling in Delta next season. They’re fighting for their lives, and they’re going to kill anyone they think might get in their way.”
It was what she had expected, but she didn’t have to like it. Marguerite drummed her fingers on
the table. “So why did you decide to warn me, then? Can’t have been safe.”
Davith already looked uncomfortable, but now his expression resembled a man sitting on a tack.
“You helped me out once,” he muttered. “I owe you one.”
“You expect us to believe in your honor?” said Shane, going from standing to looming with a minor shift of weight.
“I do have some, you know,” Davith said. His left eye was rapidly swelling closed, but he managed to look wry nonetheless. “Valiantly as I have tried to squelch it. I don’t much like Fenella, and I don’t like seeing someone I’ve known for years slaughtered just because she’s trying to get the same information that I am.” He shook his head. “I want to beat you at the game, not see you dead.”
“Well, there’s that,” said Marguerite. She believed him, strangely enough. Davith, for all his many flaws and deceptions, was neither bloodthirsty nor malicious. “Of course, now you’re in almost as much trouble as we are, since the Sail undoubtedly saw you coming here.”
Davith leaned back in the chair with a sudden grin. “Ah, but that fine shiner your bodyguard laid onto me will help enormously. And when you give me the information about where Maltrevor’s pet artificer is holed up, that’ll help even more.”
Marguerite snorted. “And why exactly would I do that?”
“Gratitude, obviously.” Davith spread his hands. “It’s not like you can do anything with it now.
We already know where Magnus is staying, we just don’t know where exactly she is, and you know what these highland clans are like. You can’t bribe them and you can’t charm them and if you try to fight one, all his fifty cousins turn on you. The Sail’s on their way there already, it’ll just take them ages to search the place. Those hills have more holes than a good cheese. But you’ve got that information, don’t you?”
Marguerite laughed. “How did you know?”
“Pfff, half the court knows that your bodyguard here carried you back from Maltrevor’s rooms.
The only reason you’d go to his bed is to get that information. Not, alas, a feat I can replicate.” He clasped his hands together. “You give it to me, I give it to the Sail, they’re so pleased with me that they overlook my possible indiscretion, you sneak out of the fortress and I take home a sack of coin.”
“Brilliant,” said Marguerite admiringly. “Really quite a fine plan. I salute you. There’s just one tiny problem.”
His good eye narrowed. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
Davith sounded more resigned than upset. “You could be putting me in a very precarious situation.”
“My heart bleeds,” muttered Wren, not quite under her breath.
Marguerite’s heart did bleed a little, mostly for Wren. She wasn’t going to like this either. “We’re running,” she said. “But we’re headed into the highlands. And you can either come with us, or we can leave you here.”
“Hog-tied,” added Shane.
Davith snorted. “My days of being tied up by attractive men are long past, knight.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “What do I get out of this, again?”
Marguerite shrugged. “Your skin. Without that information, how charitable do you think Fenella is likely to be?”
Davith’s scowl was all the answer she needed. “You’re completely mad,” he said. “Maybe you can sneak out of the fortress, but once you’re on the road, they’ll be hunting you clear to Cambraith.”
Cambraith. Marguerite exulted internally. He’d just handed her the only piece of information she needed. She saw the flicker in Shane’s eyes as he registered the name too. “Well, we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” she said lightly. “Right now, we need to get out of here. Fast.”
Nobody said anything for a moment. Davith groaned and rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re going to make me suggest the best way to kidnap myself?”
Shane’s growl was so low as to be almost subterranean, but Davith was not a fool, no matter how often he acted like one. He held up his hands. “Right. I was just saying. So, there’s two ways out. We either try to brazen our way through taking a lift, and risk them cutting the rope, or we go down to ground level through the cellars.”
“Cellars,” said Wren instantly.
“What, you don’t favor being splattered across the landscape?” asked Davith.
Wren flushed. “The cellars it is,” Marguerite said hastily. “Then we’ll take a ship across the lake into the highlands.”
Davith scowled. “Dodging the Sail’s people, as I said, the whole way to Cambraith.”
“Then think of all the chances you’ll have to escape,” said Marguerite lightly.
“I’m thinking of all the chances I’ll have to catch a stray arrow, thank you very much.”