Destin stepped inside and shut and locked the door behind him. Then turned to glare at her, his arms folded.
Lila grinned when she saw his expression. “Blood and bones, Karn, I’m so glad you’re still alive. It always seems that I’m a lot happier to see you than you are to see me. Well, except for that time you came to Oden’s Ford. Then there was that time in King Gerard’s garden—”
“How did you find this place?”
“I needed a cup and some comfort, and this place was recommended,” she said. She held up a cup she’d no doubt filled down in the taproom. “It’s truly amazing. You really can get anything you want here.” She winked at him.
“If you’re thinking that you can blackmail me, you—”
“Heavens, no!” Lila actually looked offended. “If you think I have any interest in your private life, so sorry, I don’t. And I don’t want you to have to ‘disappear’ me. The best thing about being shameless is that I have no interest in shaming anyone else.”
Destin couldn’t help thinking that she was not quite as shameless as she made herself out to be. But he sighed and slid out of his court coat and hung it up carefully. He then walked around the room, creating wards to frustrate eavesdroppers. Then poked at the fire.
“Karn. You can’t have been gone from Delphi that long.” She fanned herself. “Do you really need a fire?”
“Did I ask you for your opinion?” With the fire going to his satisfaction, he sat on the edge of the hearth. “How can I help you, Lila? Surely you aren’t hurting for business, with a civil war in the offing and the ongoing war with the Fells—”
“And an invasion from the empress in the east.” She eyed him, her head cocked. “But you already knew about that.” There was a trace of a question mark at the end of that statement. It struck him that she was watching him in the same way he’d watched Queen Marina, trying to ferret out whether he’d been involved.
“Actually, I just heard,” Destin said. “What can you tell me about this empress? Did a northern princeling refuse her hand in marriage or what?”
“Not all wars are about unrequited love,” Lila said.
Destin couldn’t help laughing. He’d missed Lila, he had to admit.
“What have you heard?” he said.
Lila gave him a look that said, You first. Then relented. “What I know I heard from my relatives on the coast.”
“The smugglers?”
“We prefer ‘merchants and traders,’” Lila said. “Anyway, they said all the ports on the east coast are in an uproar, trying to fortify against possible attacks by sea, people wondering what the empress’s intentions are. They’re used to pirates—they know there’s always a risk when they put to sea. But this is the first time pirates have come inland, acting like they mean to stay.”
“Have they advanced beyond Chalk Cliffs?”
“I don’t know,” Lila said. “I’ve been on the road.”
“Are you selling magecraft to them?”
She shook her head. “My understanding is that they don’t use magecraft. Their soldiers are magelike, but they don’t use amulets and they cannot be controlled with collars or defended against with talismans.”
“Too bad,” Destin said, rubbing his chin. “You think you have a whole new market, and it comes to nothing.”
“Exactly. So. How are you getting on with King Jarat?”
“Why?” Destin asked warily.
“This empress is bad for business,” Lila said. “I wondered if he would be amenable to helping the northerners boot her out.”
Destin stared at her, then burst out laughing.
Now it was Lila’s turn to glare at him.
Destin blotted tears from his eyes. It had been so long since he’d had anything to laugh about.
“What’s so funny, Karn?”
“I—I’m sure if you explained the damage to your business, King Jarat will get right on it. Maybe you could offer him a split of the profits.”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it exactly that way, but—”
“I’m serious. He could use the cash. He can use it to buy more ordnance from you.” Destin raised his hands, palms up. “Perfect.”
“Shut up, Karn,” Lila growled.
“Maybe there’s something else you can sell the empress,” Destin said. “I understand that she forces prisoners to drink her blood and turns them into slaves.” He lifted Lila’s cup and waggled it under her nose. “How about . . . cups? Or maybe a product to get bloodstains out?”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.” Lila grabbed her cup back and drained it.
“Actually,” Karn admitted, “I’m not. I know enough about the empress to predict disaster if we’re not able to drive her away.”
“Then work with me,” Lila said.
Spending time with Lila Barrowhill always proved worthwhile, even if it had its price in aggravation. Somehow it was a pleasure to work with a person who never hid behind a fa?ade of respectability.
He rose, opened a secret cabinet, and pulled out a bottle of bingo and two glasses. “Shall we?”
35
THE EMPRESS’S NEW CLOTHES
Lyss and Breon were housed in a luxurious suite of rooms in one of the finished wings of the marble palace. They each had their own bedroom, with a connecting living area. The suite opened onto a terrace overlooking the ocean, but the only way out of the wing was through a locked wrought-iron gate and past a guard post that was staffed with blood mages around the clock.
Servants came and went with food trays and linens, their sandals whispering over the stones. Breon tried to strike up a conversation with some of them, but got nowhere. Lyss finally realized that it was because they were deaf—which is probably the best protection against a spellsinger.
A young woman came in one day with an armload of nightgowns and silk robes that she then hung in a tall wardrobe. She measured Lyss from top to toe, murmuring her surprise over the battleground of Lyss’s body—a maze of old scars and fading bruises.
Lyss tried speaking with her, using the four languages she knew. Clearly the young woman heard, but she didn’t understand. Finally, Lyss pointed her thumb into her chest and said, “Lyss.” Then she pointed at the girl, who smiled and said, “Lara.”
Two days later, Lara brought several bundles of new clothes. There were two sets of garments similar to those that the blood mages had worn—the ones who’d attacked the keep at Chalk Cliffs. Loose-fitting breeches that narrowed just below the knee; a linen overshirt; a long vest, decorated with embroidery and braid; a thick leather belt and leather gauntlets; and a head wrap.
There were also two sets of what looked like a court uniform—fine dress breeches and a long coat complete with braid and glitterbits, the empress’s siren insignia on the back. Plus four sets of smallclothes. The boots appeared to have been made to match the boots Lyss was wearing when she was taken captive.
Gesturing, Lara directed her to try the clothes on, to make sure of the fit. They fit perfectly—even the boots fit reasonably well. Lara demonstrated how the head wrap could be worn as a loose cowl or drawn across her face, exposing only her eyes. When Lyss looked in the glass, she saw just another Carthian warrior.
Well, then.
Lyss smiled at Lara. “Perfect,” she said, making a turn so the seamstress could see all sides.
Lara smiled back, curtsied, and left.
Lyss sat on the low bed, her mind tumbling from one bad possibility to the next. It seemed that the empress meant to keep her around for a while. That could be good news or bad. She’d heard that the empress somehow turned her captives into mages and forced them to fight for her. Was that what she intended for Lyss?
Lyss could not let that happen, but she couldn’t think of how she could avoid it, short of tying strips of sheet together and hanging herself. But she was her mother’s sole living heir. Worse, it would mean the end of the Alister line—the line that had survived more than a thousand years against all odds. It was as if she heard her father’s voice in her head. Stay alive.