15. Landry
15
LANDRY
L andry froze. His heart stuttered as the shadowy figure stalked toward him through the darkening forges lit only by their dying embers. His hammers hung from the wall by their loops, and all his tools, which could be weapons, were stored neatly away. All out of reach.
“You were at the guild meet. Why?” he blurted out.
The dark figure stopped and cocked his head. The man stepped from the shadows into the ruddy glow of the dying forge fires that cast sickening shadows and light across his face. For the first time, Landry saw who skulked. His chest tightened and his heart stuttered. He clenched a fist—a poor defence against the king’s darkest servant.
“I was.” The spymaster’s even voice gave no answer—or hint of intention.
Landry stood ready, though he was not sure what for. What did the king’s spymaster want with him? He could barely hear the cracking of the embers over the rush of blood in his own ears. Was he to be arrested? To be the latest innocent to be charged with treason? To be used as bait to draw out the dissent that bubbled too close to the surface? What would become of his family if he were taken?
“You need not worry. I’m not here to arrest you,” Dimitrius said, as though he could read Landry’s mind.
Perhaps he can , Landry thought darkly before he silenced the thought and glared at the king’s spymaster with as much suspicion and hostility as he dared. “What do you want, spymaster?” Landry asked, striving to keep his voice level. His thoughts had fled—he had forgotten the man’s true title, his House—but Landry was too consumed by concern at his own predicament to worry about the rigidities of politeness. He did not trust the immaculate, dark man, with his sly smile, cunning eyes, and clean hands that he reckoned had never done a hard day’s work.
The spymaster flexed those smooth, unworn fingers as he stepped forward, casting himself into shadow once more. Landry took a step back. “Call me Dimitrius, Master Landry.”
Landry swallowed. The king’s spymaster knew everything, it was said. Sickness swooped in the pit of his stomach.
“I know you and the guilds struggle to meet the king’s tithe, and other taxes, in light of the disruption to your trade routes.”
Landry said nothing. He would not incriminate himself or his peers, if that was what the spymaster sought.
“What if I could help?”
Landry narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
The spymaster sighed. “I’m not trying to trap you. You may know me as the king’s spymaster, but many of my duties are less… unsavoury than you might believe. I know the king will not listen to you. He will not aid the dwarves in defeating the scourge of goblins. But you and I are not alone in longing for a fairer country, Master Landry. The ability to live our lives in peace, good health, and fortune. Do you not want the same for your wife, sons, and daughter?”
A chill struck Landry to his core, horrified at the mention of his family. This dangerous elf knew his family in such detail? Landry’s fingers twitched. He longed to feel his hammer in his hand—its strength and security—though he knew he would be no match against the powerful elf before him. Landry growled. “Do you threaten my family?”
Dimitrius held up his hands, eyebrows raised. “Of course not, Master Smith. I merely offer you… a better way forward, shall we say. I cannot promise anything, but if I could secure the trade routes once more, so the guilds could resume full, unhindered business and Tournai could remain stable over the winter, you would be amenable, yes?”
“What do you want in return?” Landry asked flatly. He was no fool. The court of Tournai did not barter in gifts. Favours were hard-won, earned through great effort, and debts were always collected when it came to the elves. He had learned that, at least, from Aislin’s callous family.
Dimitrius’s gaze sharpened, the affable smile fading from his face. Landry knew the spymaster had realised he could not be tricked or cajoled into whatever he plotted. “I need nothing from you, Master Smith. Nothing but your word that when the time comes, I will have your support.” Dimitrius waited expectantly.
“Support for what?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
Landry clenched a fist. I can neither deny nor accept him . After a pause, he swallowed. “I will consider consulting the guilds with your proposal.” He folded his arms. Unusually tall for a mortal, he was glad he stood in equal measure with the slim elf before him. He stood in silence, glaring, channelling his suspicion and fear into open distrust and dislike. The conversation was over. Leave , Landry growled in his head, wishing he could utter the command out loud.
The spymaster stirred, then nodded sharply. He glanced around the forge, his eyes lingering over the curiosities within. “I will bid thee goodnight then, Master Smith. I’ll return for your answer soon. Extend my warmest greetings to your wife and children.” The spymaster’s words were genial, but his eyes were hard and cold.
Landry waited until Dimitrius turned away and strode from the forge before he blew out a shuddering exhale and sagged against the wall. He hurried upstairs to where those he loved and the warm hearth awaited. There, he could shut the door and bar it against the dark of night and the spymaster’s threats… and pretend they did not darken his threshold.