her ale.
“Tempting,” Ranja said. “But it seems something of a gamble. First off, I’d rather not go anywhere near your uncle. Secondly, you can’t put in a good word for me with your father if Elidyr kills you, and from what I’ve seen of the man so far, he wields more power than you do. We have a saying in my line of work: ‘A promise of payment is always an empty one.’ ”
Lirra shrugged. “Then forget we talked and go take your information to Lady Raskogr. But if you help me, you’ll learn even more about the symbiont project, and that will give you more bargaining power with Bergerron. And the more of his secrets you know, the more likely he’ll be to pay you to keep quiet about them.”
“If he doesn’t kill me outright to keep me from talking,” Ranja said. “Still, I didn’t get into this line of work to play it safe.” She grinned. “All right, Lirra. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
The shifter stuck out her hand to shake, but before Lirra could reach for it, the woman quickly drew it back, an expression of near panic on her face.
“I’m sorry,” Ranja said. “I just … I mean, I can’t …”
“That’s all right.” Lirra understood. This must have been how Rhedyn had felt when she’d been reluctant to touch him, and she felt guilty for ever having made him feel this way.
“Let’s settle up and we can get started.” Lirra raised her hand to get the serving woman’s attention, but just as the woman started toward their table, one of the garrison soldiers loudly said, “Bankers, eh? Well, they must deal in
Fury blossomed inside Lirra like a red-hot flower. Gritting her teeth and doing her best to hold in her anger, she reached into her purse, removed a couple silver coins and tossed them onto the table. “That ought to take care of the bill,” she said to Ranja, her voice tight. “Let me know if it doesn’t.” She then stood and forced herself to move slowly as she made her way to the soldiers’ table.
All three of the dwarves were glaring at the soldiers, and two of the dwarves had their hands on the pommels of the long knives they wore at their sides. The dwarves were of a type-all male, black hair, black beards, squat noses, thin lips-and she assumed they were family based on their resemblance. Brothers, or perhaps cousins. Dwarven businesses were usually family ones.
The soldiers were laughing too hard to notice her at first, but before long the young soldier who’d been the first to start taunting the dwarves looked up at her. He was younger than she’d thought at first, younger even than Osten, and she doubted he’d been with the garrison more than a couple months.
The youth regarded her for a moment before giving her a sneer. “I’d say ‘Look what the cat dragged in,’ but not even the most flea-bitten feline would go anywhere near something as ratty looking as you.”
The tentacle whip twitched beneath Lirra’s robe, eager to strike out at the loudmouthed youth, and Lirra restrained it with an effort of will. She forced herself to speak calmly as she addressed the soldier. “You may be off duty, but you’re still wearing your uniform. I don’t think Rol Amark would appreciate the way someone under his command has been mocking visitors to his town. Do you?”
The youth was clearly taken aback by her mention of the garrison commander’s name. He glanced at his friends, saw them looking at him with amusement that he was being called out by a stranger, and he turned back to Lirra, determined not to be made a fool of.
“What gives you the right to lecture us? We’re Karrnathi soldiers. We don’t answer to civilians.” He looked her up and down. “And certainly not ones who look as if they spent the night sleeping on a dung heap.”
Fresh anger surged through Lirra, and she imagined drawing her sword and lopping the fool’s head off.
The other soldiers started to laugh at the insult their comrade had delivered, but their merriment quickly died away when they saw the grim expression on Lirra’s face. Up to this point, she’d allowed her cloak to cover her uniform, and she was tempted to reveal it to the soldiers now, but she resisted. She didn’t want anyone in town to know who she was.
“I’m a veteran,” she said, “and I doubt I’m the only one in here.”
Everyone in the Wyvern’s Claw had gone silent as they watched the confrontation taking place in their midst. More than a few of the patrons cheered at Lirra’s words. She noticed the dwarves were watching her carefully, and while they hadn’t made any comments of their own so far, all three of them now gripped the handles of their long knives and had drawn them halfway out of their sheaths. Lirra continued, her tone becoming increasingly strained as she went.
“The way you’re acting is a disgrace to your homeland and your family. I suggest that you apologize to the three gentlemen sitting over there”-she nodded toward the dwarves-“and then go back to the barracks to sleep off all the ale you’ve swallowed before you embarrass yourselves or Karrnath any further.”
Though Lirra currently looked like any other down-on-her-luck ex-soldier, her military bearing and confident tone of command caused the soldiers no small amount of confusion. A couple looked as if they thought it best to do as she said and depart, but of course the loudmouth wasn’t having any of it. The last thing he wanted to do was lose face in front of his friends.
He stood and turned to face Lirra. He was taller than she was, and he stepped toward her, clearly intending to use his height to intimidate her, but she didn’t move so much as a fraction of an inch away from him. He scowled, displeased that his petty tactic hadn’t worked. He then held out his hand.
“Travel papers.”
Lirra groaned inwardly. She had her papers with her, of course. Karrnathi citizens were required to keep them on their person whenever they weren’t in their homes, and soldiers carried their papers all the time, regardless of where they were. But her papers would reveal her to be Lirra Brochann, Captain in the Karrnathi army, and a member of the Order of Rekkenmark. She outranked every soldier here. Indeed, she outranked every member of the garrison, with the exception of Rol Amark, who was also a captain. But she couldn’t afford to expose her true identity just to put a wet-behind-the-ears soldier in his place.
She held up her right hand in what she hoped was a gesture of conciliation. “Look, why don’t you just apologize to the dwarves, and then we can-”
The youth drew a dagger from the sheath on his hip, stepped forward, and pressed the tip to the underside of Lirra’s jaw.
He leaned in close to her face, and she could smell the stew and ale on his breath. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, bitch. I said present your papers-
The anger she’d fought so hard to contain now roared through Lirra like an uncontrollable wildfire, and an instant later the tentacle whip uncoiled from around her forearm and grabbed hold of the young soldier’s wrist. It squeezed and the bones inside snapped like kindling. The soldier cried out in pain as his fingers sprang open and the dagger tumbled to the floor.
Lirra leaned forward until her mouth was close to his ear. Her voice was cold and dagger-edge sharp. “A couple words of advice: First, never draw a weapon on an opponent until you’ve taken the time to gauge his or her strength. And second, never call me bitch.”
With a thought, she commanded the tentacle whip to hurl the youth away. He soared through the air and slammed into the wall next to the tavern’s fireplace, bounced off, and hit a table occupied by a half-elf who only barely managed to jump out of the way in time. The table collapsed into kindling and the youth hit the ground, groaned once, and lay still. Lirra had no idea how badly injured the fool was, and at that moment, she really didn’t care. As angry as she was, he was lucky to be alive.
The youth’s fellow soldiers sat for a moment, stunned, but they quickly gathered their wits. They leaped to their feet, drew their swords, and glared at Lirra with undisguised loathing. She realized what she’d done then. Despite her best intentions, she’d revealed her true nature. She was a host to a symbiont, an impure thing to be reviled. Seeing the mingled fear and disgust in their eyes caused Lirra’s anger to drain away. She didn’t want to hurt anyone else.
A voice came from someone standing at her side, startling her. She hadn’t heard anyone approach.
“You’ve seen what my companion can do,” Ranja said, her words coming out as a near growl. Her full bestial aspect was upon her, and she looked more animal than human. “Your friend undoubtedly needs a healer. Why don’t you collect him and leave before there’s any more trouble?”
The soldiers looked at each other, clearly unable to decide what the best course of action was. Lirra could
