This time, though, Evan wasn’t thinking about cargo. He was thinking of a boy who liked to build things. A boy with a wellspring of pain hidden behind his stony face, his eyes the only window into a dark history.
The meeting was to take place at the Barrister’s Inn, one of those places where the name promises more than the establishment delivers. Evan couldn’t imagine that any self-respecting barrister would be seen in this hangdog little dive on the Heartfang River, just west of the harbor itself. Maybe that was why Destin had suggested it.
And now, here Evan was, dressed in his best leathers and linen, Destin’s amulet resting against his chest, Destin’s dog sprawled like a warm rug over his feet. Evan, as nervous as any untouched groom on his wedding day, was surrounded by an unlikely crew of pierced and tattooed chaperones. The only other people in the taproom were the bartender and a table of seamen deep in their cups.
Evan had been watching all the comings and goings through the front door, so he was surprised when one of the seamen heaved himself out of his chair and strolled over to their table. “Lieutenant Rocheford has asked you to join him in the back room,” he said in Common.
“Lieutenant . . . Rocheford?”
“Aye,” the suddenly sober seaman said. “He says the two of you used to go salmon fishing together when you were young. He’d like to buy you a drink.”
Only Destin would know that, which meant either the meeting was on the level, or Destin had betrayed him in great detail.
He kept secrets when you were together. There’s every reason to think that he’s still at it.
Across the table, Brody Baines scowled and shook his head. The message was clear: Don’t fall for it.
“Ah,” Evan said. “Now I remember.” He stood, and the others pushed back their chairs, too.
“He wants to meet with you alone,” the seaman said, stepping into their path. “He says you’ll understand once you hear what he has to say.”
“No, Captain,” Teza Von said quickly, putting his bulk in the way of the seaman. He made an impressive wall. “If he wants to talk to you, he can do it out here.” The rest of the crew muttered agreement.
That was when Breaker burst out from under the table, charged across the room, and began flinging himself at the back door, bouncing off, and doing it all over again.
Evan’s heart all but stopped, and then it seemed like he couldn’t get his breath. It was true. Destin was—he must be—just on the other side of that door. Evan had to take this chance. He had to.
“Wait here,” he said to his crew. “I’ll call you in if it goes wrong.”
“But what if we’re too late?” Jorani cried. She was the newest addition to the crew, and the youngest.
“Make sure you’re not,” Evan said. He crossed to the door, nudged Breaker to the side with his foot, and opened the door. As soon as it opened wide enough, the dog shot past him and into the back room.
And, there, in a chair by the fire, was Destin Karn, fending off Breaker the demon dog, who was doing his best to lick him in the face. When Destin looked up at Evan, Breaker finally made contact and then, apparently satisfied, curled up in Destin’s lap.
Evan turned, nodded reassurance to his crew, then stepped across the threshold, pulling the door shut behind him. “I brought your dog back,” he said, leaning against the door.
“So I see,” Destin said, stroking Breaker’s head. His face was concealed, then revealed by the light from the flickering flames. He was dressed entirely in black—the colors of the Ardenine King’s Guard. Evan wondered if that was intentional—meant to maintain a distance between them. “It seems that you have acquired the ability to raise the dead.”
“Some of the dead, some of the time,” Evan said. He paused. “Are you with the King’s Guard now?” He gestured toward the uniform.
Destin nodded. “I’m in a . . . particular division of the King’s Guard. Outside of the normal chain of command.”
“Does the fact you came in costume indicate that you’re here in an official capacity?”
Destin laughed. “If I were here in an official capacity, you would be in chains. You’ve become quite notorious, here in the wetlands. I’m proud of you, Pirate.” He pushed a chair out with his booted foot. “Would you like to sit down?”
Feeling a little foolish, Evan crossed the room and sat down in the chair nearest the hearth. Still country to this city boy. If Evan was deadly, Destin was always deadlier.
Evan had grown, but Destin had grown, too, so that the soldier still had a good three inches on him. He was thinner, too, though maybe the proper word was honed. Honed by whatever had happened since they’d been apart. Honed into a sleek and deadly weapon for the wetland king.
The silence between them grew until it was awkward. For two years Evan had dreamed of this meeting, and now he had nothing to say.
“I believe this is your meeting,” he said finally.
Destin lifted a decanter of amber liquid, poured for himself, and then extended it toward Evan. “Would you like any—?”
“No, thank you,” Evan said. He needed a clear head to pick his way through this minefield of a meeting. “I’m—I just had something.”
Destin’s smile was hard-edged, bitter, almost a grimace. “A wise move, Pirate. Never accept a drink from me. I am the midwife who delivers the king’s enemies into hell.” Destin swirled the liquid in his glass and drank it down, his throat jumping. The message seemed clear. I am not for you, and you are not for me.
“Am I one of the king’s enemies, Des?” Evan asked softly.
“Well, there is a heavy price on your head,”
