to make it only darker. From where she stood in the sunlight, Miranda could see only about twenty feet inside to where the hall had been split in half by a wrought-metal gate marked with the same fist and mountain as the banners outside.
Sparrow squinted into the dark hall. “Very impressive,” he said, sounding decidedly unimpressed. “But we didn’t come all this way to see a cave. Where is Izo?”
The bandit grinned and pointed at the gate. “Through there. You can leave your horse with the boys. They’ll take care of your things.”
“Which is why I’m taking them with me,” Sparrow said, unhitching his bags and flinging them over his shoulder with surprising ease.
The bandits laughed at that, and their guide gave Sparrow a knowing wink before waving for them to follow him into the dark hall. The iron gate opened before they reached it, and a man stepped forward to greet them. The moment she saw him, Miranda began to shiver. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew all the way to her core that something was terribly wrong with the man in front of her. He wore no weapon she could see, and he was skeletally thin. His face was pale and hollow, and though his clothes were fine, they hung strangely limp on his body, like rags on a scarecrow. Behind her, Gin began to growl deep in his throat.
Even their bandit guide seemed a little put off by the man. He went through the gate without looking at him, motioning for his guests to follow. The strange man just watched them pass, his eyes eerily bright in the dark as he shut the gate behind them.
On the other side of the iron gate was a smaller but far grander chamber. Fat torches hung on the walls, their smoky light painting everything in flickering reds and oranges. Rich rugs lined the stone floor and gold glittered from the ornate wooden cabinets that lined both walls. But all of it—the silks, the rare metals, the chandelier of antlers hanging from the high cave ceiling—was just a guide for the eyes, leading them toward the back of the cave. There, on a raised stage lined with an impressive display of weaponry, below a great red banner marked with the same icon of the closed fist and mountain she’d seen all through the city, was an enormous iron chair covered with furs, and seated on the furs was a man.
Miranda blinked. For all the buildup, he was not particularly impressive. Though he was sitting, it was clear he was not remarkably tall, his shoulders not particularly broad. His black hair was streaked with white, and his face, though perhaps handsome once, was now old before his time, worn by years of hard living and bad food. His eyes, however, were sharp as daggers as they watched the newcomers enter his hall. His gaze jumped from one to the next without even a raised eyebrow for Gin. He wore no jewels, no weapons, but plain as he looked, Miranda would have known who he was even without the throne. She’d seen his picture on Whitefall’s wall. This was Izo the Bandit King, the third-most-wanted criminal in Council history.
“Well, well, Garret,” Izo said in a deep, rich voice as the skeletally thin man climbed up to stand beside him. “What do you bring?”
Their bandit guide bowed. “Messengers, my king. They say they’re from the Council.”
Izo began to chuckle. “Well, well, fifteen years of getting the cold shoulder from Zarin, and here you are. To what do I owe the honor?”
Sparrow stepped forward with a flourish, his voice booming theatrically through the cave. “Greetings, great Izo, lord of bandits. My name is Sparrow, assistant to Sara, Head Wizard of the Council. This”—he gestured toward Miranda—“is Miranda Lyonette of the Spirit Court, and”—his hand shifted again—“Tesset, our guard and guide. We have been sent here by the Council of Thrones to make you an offer.”
“An offer?” Izo grinned at his bandit. “If the Council wants me to stop raiding their borders, you’re a pretty sorry showing, little bird.”
“Please,” Sparrow said. “Such matters are between you and the northern kingdoms. We are here to find a missing wizard, a man named Heinricht Slorn, who we believe has come to your lands.”
“Ah,” Izo said. “I see. You want to know if I have him.”
“Or the freedom to search for him in your woods without having to worry about waking up with a slit throat,” Sparrow said.
“The woods are fraught with danger,” Izo said with a shrug. “I’m not a charity house, Mr. Sparrow, but I could perhaps see my way toward helping you, if the price was fair.”
“I have been given the authority to be very fair in this matter,” Sparrow assured him.
“Is that so?” Izo sat back, stroking the stubble on his chin. “Give me an example.”
“Well,” Sparrow said. “Take your latest incursion into Council lands. Your men burned and pillaged the city of West Clef, and Markel of Sorran, the rightful lord of West Clef, is understandably upset. He’s been pushing the Council to formally declare war on your little operation for years. Now he’s got a few hundred dead tradesmen and a burned Council tax office to add to his complaint. He may be a small border lord, but his words are falling on very sympathetic ears at the moment. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Council voted to take action within the year. However”—Sparrow raised a long finger—“should your help guide us to our man, alive and well, I can promise you that no declaration of aggression will ever get past committee. A great promise indeed for such a small inconvenience on your part, don’t you agree?”
The thin man leaned over and whispered something in Izo’s ear. The bandit nodded and began to smile.
“Great indeed,” he said, sitting forward. “But why are you wasting my time with talk of missing wizards? Why not get straight to why you’re really here?”
For a moment, Sparrow looked surprised, but the expression was gone so quickly Miranda thought she’d imagined it. Izo, however, missed nothing.
“I’m no backward mountain horse thief,” he said slowly, shifting his eyes to Miranda. “I make it my business to know everything I can about what goes on in the Council Kingdoms, but even if I were ignorant as you seem to think me, I would know the name Miranda Lyonette, the poor Spiritualist who keeps bungling the capture of Eli Monpress.”
Miranda stepped forward, red-faced, but stopped when she felt a hard grip on her wrist. She looked over to see Tesset shaking his head.
“Did you think you could just slip her past me?” Izo scoffed. “Did you think I would not know? You said yourself, this is my land. I know everything that happens here, and I would never miss something as splendidly convenient as the three of you just happening to show up in my town the day after Monpress himself mysteriously appears inside my borders.”
This time even Sparrow looked shocked, and Izo grinned so wide Miranda could count his gold-capped teeth.
“Oh, I knew,” he said. “I was thinking of how to catch him myself. Ninety-eight thousand gold standards will catch any man’s attention. Though, now that you’re here, things are more interesting than simple money.” He turned his smile to Sparrow. “I may be a bandit, messenger bird, but I’m not stupid. I know what kind of power your mistress Sara can throw around in the Council when her mind is set.”
Sparrow made a good show of looking abashed. “I would never imply—”
Izo waved his hand. “Save the flowery talk. Truth be told, I don’t really care why you came into my lands, be it hunting missing wizards or thief catching. But if you want to do whatever it is you came here to do, then here are my terms.” He leaned forward on his throne. “First, I want all charges and bounties against me dropped. Second, I want full recognition of my sovereign right to the northlands, from the Sorran border to the mountain peaks and from the edge of the Shaper lands all the way to the eastern sea.”
He sat back when he was finished, enjoying the stunned silence.
It was Miranda who recovered first. “Impossible!” she cried. “Sorran to the peaks? From the Shaper lands to the sea? That would make you the largest kingdom in the Council! It’s never going to happen. You’re a bandit and a murderer, not a king. You have no sovereign right to anything.”
Izo gave her a hard look. “Is this the Council’s answer?”
“Not at all,” Sparrow said, cutting in front of Miranda before she could say anything else. “If you help us find Heinricht Slorn, and get us Monpress alive, and we are able to bring both safely back to Zarin, Sara will see to it that you become a king in full.”
“Done!” Izo said, standing up. He marched down from his throne and took Sparrow’s hand, shaking it hard. “Garret, make our guests comfortable. Tonight, we plan a trap even the famous Monpress can’t weasel out of.”
