Harshini

to stop the news getting out.”

“Cyrus Eaglespike?”

“Or his cronies. This isn't the act of an opportunistic man. This has been very well thought out. I'd say they've been planning it for some time.”

“Perhaps. Has King Jasnoff heard about Cratyn's death yet?”

“I don't think so. It's possible the news hasn't even reached Yarnarrow yet. It's winter in Karien, and travel will be difficult.”

“They could have sent a bird.”

“Even carrier pigeons fall prone to bad weather, Brak.”

“And your spies in Krakandar? What do they tell you?”

She smiled innocently. “What makes you think I have spies in Krakandar?”

“If you don't, it would be the only place in the south that you have none.”

“You know far too much about us for an outsider, my Lord.”

“And you seem to be avoiding the question.”

Teriahna shrugged. “I don't mean to. In truth, there's not much to tell. Damin Wolfblade arrived in Krakandar, he stayed a week or more, learnt his uncle was dead and left for Greenharbour a few days later. Adrina is with him, certainly, and so is your demon child. The news of her presence set the city talking, I'm told, so much so that it somewhat overshadowed the news that Damin had taken a bride. Between the demon child and the death of the High Prince, she's managed to keep a fairly low profile. The news is out, but it's a poor third to the other rumours currently on offer. Oh, there was one thing I neglected to mention. Damin Wolfblade contacted the Guild in Hythria.”

“Who does he want them to kill?”

“Nobody. He sent a message saying that whatever price we were offered to kill either him or Adrina, he would double it if we refused the job.”

“I always thought he was a smart lad. Can you get me in to see Hablet? This is becoming urgent.”

“If he's finished mourning.”

“Hablet is mourning Lernen Wolfblade?” Brak asked sceptically.

The Raven laughed. “In public. He's probably locked himself in his rooms and is throwing a party. But he is a King, and one has to be seen to do the right thing.”

Brak fell silent, wondering how the death of the Hythrun High Prince would affect R'shiel's plans. It was a singular waste of time, as he actually had no real idea of R'shiel's ultimate plans. He was here on trust, and that was not an emotion that came easily when dealing with the demon child.

“May I offer you some advice before your audience with our esteemed monarch, Brak?”

“Of course.”

“Hablet is a very devout man in his own way, but he despises the Harshini. He has no wish to learn they still exist and no desire to welcome them back into his court. He finds he gets along very nicely without them.”

“Glenanaran and the others have been in Greenharbour for months. It's no longer a secret that the Harshini survive.”

“True, but neither is it common knowledge. Oh, people have heard the rumours, and some even believe them, but their belief is based on faith not fact. You won't get a very warm reception when Hablet realises who you are. He'll see your presence as the thin edge of the wedge. When you deliver your news about his daughter, he'll take it as a sign that the Harshini are already interfering in Fardohnya. Be very careful.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I've no doubt of that,” she said. “But it is better to be warned.”

“I appreciate your concern, my Lady.”

Teriahna leaned forward, studied him closely for a moment, then smiled. “Do you, Brak?”

There was something in the way she spoke; something in the shift of her body that set warning bells ringing in Brak's head. She placed her hand gently on his thigh. Then she abruptly shed any pretence of subtlety and the invitation in her eyes was so blatant she might as well have cried it aloud.

“Do you really appreciate me, Brak?” she asked softly.

Brak smiled ruefully and lifted her hand from his thigh, placing it quite deliberately on the arm of her chair.

“Yes, I really do appreciate the help you've given me, Teriahna,” he said.

“I see,” the Raven replied, nodding her head thoughtfully. “There's someone else, isn't there?”

“What do you mean?”

She laughed softly. “Do you know how I came to join the Assassins' Guild, Brak? I was a court'esa, and a damned good one, too. I was recruited by the Guild for a very special job. The rest, as they say, is history. But just because I've changed careers, it doesn't mean I've lost the skills I started out with.

“There is someone else. I can see it in your face, plain as day. Who is it? Some impossibly perfect Harshini back in Sanctuary? Some lucky farm girl in Medalon?”

Her assumption took Brak completely by surprise. He had taken no lovers since L'rin in the Grimfield, back when R'shiel was a prisoner there. Since then he had been so consumed by his task of protecting the demon child, he'd had no time to think of his own pleasure.

“There's no one else, Teriahna.”

“Perhaps you're not even aware of it yourself,” she shrugged.

Brak laughed at the very idea. “You think that after several hundred years I wouldn't notice if I'd fallen in love?”

“I think after several hundred years, you're so used to not being loved, you wouldn't know what it felt like if it ran up to you and hit you on the head.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I do,” she chuckled. “But don't let it bother you. I'm sure it will work itself out. As for me? Well, I like to try new things. Sometimes I succeed, other times I don't.”

“New things?”

“I'm sorry. I've offended you, haven't I?”

“No. I just don't find myself referred to as a thing too often.”

Teriahna's smiled faded. “You should try a stint as a court'esa some time, Brak. Then you'd truly know the meaning of the word.” She looked away, suddenly uncomfortable that she had spoken so freely. Rising hastily to her feet, she pushed the chair back along the polished floor with a scrape of wood against wood. “I really should be going. I've spent far too much time away from my other duties. I'll bring your audience clothes around in the morning.”

Brak remained seated, guessing that she would prefer it that way. Teriahna walked to the door, stopping with her hand on the latch.

“There was one other thing I meant to tell you,” she said, turning back to look at him. Her manner had reverted to its usual professional mien. “I had a message from Starros, the head of the Thieves' Guild in Krakandar. He said there was an old man there who was stirring up the population against the demon child. I don't know if it's important, but I thought you'd like to know.”

“Why would Starros send you a message about some old man in Krakandar?”

“He thought it might have been one of our people on a contracted hit. It's not inconceivable that someone might want the demon child eliminated and that they would be prepared to pay handsomely for the job. And it wasn't a message so much as a reprimand. He was rather put out that I might have sent someone into his city without advising him first out of professional courtesy.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“No. Just that the old man had been preaching on street corners, subverting his people and making a general nuisance of himself. Starros thought our plan was to incite a riot of some sort and for the demon child to be killed in the ensuing chaos.”

“That doesn't sound like your style.”

“It's not. Crowds are much too hard to control. Particularly when you've worked them up into a brainless mob. Whoever the old man was, he certainly isn't one of ours.”