corner turning purple with rage while Sezri held him back. Gin joined them when they reached the keep stairs and fell in behind Eli, glaring straight at the thief with his teeth bared. Now that Gin was looking after their prisoner, Miranda was free to turn on Sparrow.
“We were just getting into negotiations,” she whispered. “Why did you make us leave?”
“Because it was time to leave,” Sparrow said. “Or didn’t you see the murder in the big one’s eyes?”
Miranda looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, she could see Sted through the iron gate shouting something at Izo, who was rising from his throne in red-faced fury as he answered.
“Stop looking,” Sparrow said sharply.
Miranda turned back to the torch-lit road. “Whatever you say; one night won’t make a difference,” she grumbled. “There’s no way you’re getting Whitefall up here.”
Sparrow’s grin vanished, and he looked sideways at her with a condescending sneer. “You assume too much, darling. There are two pillars that prop up the Council of Thrones. The first is Merchant Prince Whitefall; the second is Sara. If push came to shove she could have the entire Whitefall family up here tomorrow, and for a combination of Slorn, Eli Monpress, and the Heart of War, she just might. She’s been talking about that sword for years, but has never been able to find it.” His voice softened, and he tilted his head thoughtfully. “Who would have thought its current wielder would be traveling with the thief? Though it makes sense, considering the spectacular feats his group has pulled off.”
Eli burst out laughing at that, though the sound turned into a squeak when Gin bit him. Sparrow blithely ignored the entire affair.
“I’m going to check on Tesset,” he said. “Then I’ll drop by the infirmary to see this Heart of War for myself. You go back to the house and lock the thief down for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll answer Izo’s demands. You can come along if you promise to keep your mouth shut this time.”
“No promises,” Miranda said, halting at the door of the house they shared.
Sparrow didn’t even stop, he just waved his hand as he walked down the dirt street toward the barracks where the infirmary was set up. Miranda watched him go for a moment and then turned on her heel and stomped off the other way, looking for one of Izo’s men to bully into giving her her own building to stay in. Gin stayed close behind her, his eyes pinned on the water-bound Eli as he bumped along behind in his liquid prison.
Back in Izo’s hall the air was growing violently tense. Sted stood at the base of the stairs to Izo’s seat, held back only by Sezri’s slender hand across his chest. “You have no right!” he roared. “Liechten is mine!”
“I have every right!” Izo shouted back, standing before his throne with his hand on his sword. “Everything in this land is mine to do with as I please, and I will not have my rights disputed in front of my guests by one of my own men!”
“I’m none of yours!” Sted bellowed. “I’m no one’s servant! I am Berek Sted! I came back from death for this, and I will have my rematch with Josef Liechten even if I have to do it on your corpse!”
“Sted!” The demonseed’s thin fingers dug into the larger man’s cape-covered chest.
“No, Sezri.” Izo sneered. “Let the ox bellow. Your Master has been a good ally to me, but I will not be told how to handle my affairs. I rule this land, make no mistake, and I will use its prisoners as I see fit.” He sat back down on his throne, drawing his sword and laying it across his lap as he glared at Sted. “Leave. I grow tired of your tantrums. Tomorrow, I’ll decide what’s to be done with the swordsman. Beg your Master that I don’t also decide what’s to be done with you.”
For a moment, Sted’s eyes went wild. He pressed against Sezri until the smaller man began to tilt and it looked like Sted would fall on Izo like a tiger. But then, like a curtain falling over a lamp, the furious light went out. Sted stepped back, turned on his heel, and marched out of the hall, slamming the iron gate as he left. Sezri watched him leave, never moving until Sted’s enormous shadow vanished into the night.
“That,” he said, turning to look at Izo, “was a very foolish game to play.”
Izo waved dismissively. “I’ve been leading bandits for fifteen years. You think I don’t know how to handle men like Sted?”
“Sted isn’t one of your thugs.” Sezri’s voice was sharp with disgust. “Have you forgotten whom he serves?”
“Men like that don’t serve anyone but themselves,” Izo said, laughing. “Your Master is kidding himself if he thinks otherwise.”
“My Master sees all things,” Sezri said quietly. “It is by his goodwill alone that you have risen as far as you have. You would do well to keep that in mind.”
“He helped,” Izo said. “He gave me monsters like you, but I was the one who planned the raids, who beat the other bosses. I was the one who took every two-bit gang from here to the coast and turned them into an army capable of taking on Council cities. True, it would have taken me much longer without your Master’s aid, but he has received good payment for what he’s given. I’ve kept my end of the deal. Slaves flow from my camps to the Dead Mountain every day. Now it’s his turn. He promised to make me a king of the Council, and I will hold him to his debt.”
“And you shall be king,” Sezri said. “Offering them the swordsman was nothing but foolish arrogance and impatience.”
“Call it what you will,” Izo said. “I did what I had to do to make the Council move. If that upsets your Master’s deal with Sted, that’s not my problem. I’m not about to sit back and give up what I’m owed so your Master can pay another.”
Sezri clenched his fist. Izo’s arrogance was going too far. Inside him, he could feel the strength of the seed building, ready to lash out, to show this pathetic little man the true power of the Master. But before he could even think the command, the beloved voice filled his head.
Enough, Sezri.
The demonseed closed his eyes, nearly crying as the Master’s voice rolled across his mind.
Let the human do as he likes. All will be answered. Now, go and find a spirit you can devour without raising alarm. Your strength will be needed soon.
“Yes, Master,” Sezri whispered, bowing his head. “All will be as you command.”
The voice chuckled, sliding over his soul like a hand stroking a cat. Such a good child.
“What was that?” Izo’s voice snapped Sezri from his euphoria, and the demonseed glared in disgust at the tiny, human spirit on his makeshift throne.
“Do as you like,” Sezri said, turning on his heel. “King Izo.”
There was a scrape behind him as Izo stood up. “I hope you’re going to check on Sted.”
Sezri didn’t answer. He simply stepped into a shadow and vanished, sliding through the dark until all he could feel was the seed inside him and the fading power of the Master’s voice on his soul. He stopped when he reached the forest just beyond the city. There, in the dark shadow of the trees, he began to hunt for a spirit that would suit the Master’s purpose, unaware of the pair of animal eyes watching him from branches above.
Nico sat in the dark in the corner of the small house, her coat draped over her head like a funeral shroud. Directly across from her, the tall man in the brown coat sat on a bench by the fire, staring at her. Outside, bandits were laughing and drinking; inside, the room was silent except for the low hissing of the coals. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since the woods.
None of this would have happened if you’d just accept my gifts. The swordsman’s dead and it’s all your fault. You know that, don’t you?
Nico closed her eyes and buried her head in her knees.
Across the tiny room, the door opened, letting in a swirl of cold, smoky air before shutting again. Nico glanced up. A man wearing a green silk coat, green ballooning pants tucked into tall, polished boots, and a short blue cape with silver lining was standing in the entrance. He looked startlingly out of place, but the man sitting by the fire nodded a familiar greeting.
“Sparrow.”
“Tesset,” the foppish man replied as he bolted the door behind him.
The man in the brown coat, Tesset, waited until Sparrow was finished before asking, “How did it go?”
“The usual way,” Sparrow said, unhooking his cape with a shrug. “Wonderfully, then horribly, and finally stopping somewhere just short of acceptable. Izo’s no idiot, but he’s not subtle enough for politics. He played his hand straight and strong. Unfortunately, though not surprisingly, the Spiritualist and Monpress mucked things up. I
